I thought he was mere folklore — a boogeyman, a myth that goes bump(?) in the night.
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To the fridge I head, seeking the only comfort this pale life offers me.
It's brother-against-brother, cats-eating-their-own-young, neighbors-knocking-over-each-others-bins-and-blaming-raccoons — society!?
Nosh Hunt columnists were too busy to meet with the Hotel Hell guy, so we at the humour section sat down with Ramsay instead.
The fifth-year commerce student and son of third-generation oil baron Brichael Dawgman wakes up at 4:01 a.m. every day, because he knows 401k is some sort of financial term.
With all the abbreviations and hip slang floating around the thunderbird vernacular, it can be difficult to sort out everything that’s going on. Well, we’re here to help!
We may never know what it is exactly, but here are some things you can do with the big yellow thing on University Boulevard.
I think it’s been around four days, but time has lost all meaning.
Find the link between the starred clues.
Hey girlies! I’m so glad you’re here. Welcome back to another Monday — but this isn’t just any Monday. It’s Makeup Monday! And it's also technically Thursday but who's counting?
This is a result of a flyer switch-up making parents believe they were sending their kids to a field trip.
Do I want Bacon and Eggs in my ice cream? No — does anyone? Was I the first in line (the long, long line) to try Rain or Shine’s new “Bacon and Eggs” seasonal flavour? Of course.
Dear guy on the West Point Grey Buy Nothing Group: nobody fucking wants your collection of haunted political science textbooks from 1972.
Why are you still reading this? You need to get the fuck to Clubs Fair and ride that proverbial and literal bull.
This policy isn’t simply in the spirit of mischievously enabling young love (or, more realistically, situationships that last for the two hardest months of the term before painfully and inexplicably fizzling out).