Don’t ask me how they managed to convince him to participate, but it was a highlight of a fantastic talent show for parents week put on by the always incredibly talented students of Franciscan University. I promise I am not biased (not that it matters, since this is a column).
More than halfway through the semester and many a thing has passed. It’s pretty safe to say at this point that the whole “semester of a lifetime” thing was just what it was made out to be. Nothing could be better.
Alright, you got me. I lied. I have a complaint. The Mensa, along with all these ethnic foods except the Italians (see below), just isn’t cutting it for this calorie-deprived American.
Europeans eat too healthily. I am desperately craving American food. Good, greasy, cholesterol-raising American food. Especially Chik-Fil-A: an original chicken sandwich with an order of large waffle fries and cookies and cream milkshake. Or maybe I could go for a double cheeseburger from Five Guys, where the greasy juices are just ooze all over your taste buds.
Seriously America, you have got to work on your export game. Second-rate KFC and McDonalds just aren’t going to cut it for much longer. Sure, they will suffice for the desperate foreign soul, but think about how much better you would make the world if you introduced them to the wonders of Chik-Fil-A and Five Guys. I’d say we need to take a real serious look at the Italian way of doing things. I mean look at these guys. They cook the best food on the planet. They know it. They are proud of it. It’s the only reason that this onset of desire for more unhealthy foods has taken so long to arrive into my life this semester, but I digress.
So what do those masterful Italians do? They go and impose their exquisite culinary achievements on the rest of the world. Win a man’s stomach and he will be your slave. Think I’m exaggerating? What have the Pub and Wendy’s done to you? That’s what I thought. Don’t give me that garbage. You know exactly what I’m talking about. The caf don’t have your stomach like the Pub and Wendy’s do. Unless it’s Judy at Late Night. Shout out to Judy, we miss you and look forward to you welcoming us to Late Night once again next semester.
On a final and totally random note, this whole six hours ahead really sucks when it comes to sporting events. The National Championship started at 3:00 a.m. local time so it was impossible to watch, especially if you had class in the morning. But hey, UNC got that heartbreak back from last year with the win this year.