Editor's Note: The Collegian reserves the right to publish anonymous submissions only if an author's well-being is at stake and the article's message is deemed worthy of publication. As a closeted non-heterosexual male at the University of Richmond, my experiences on this campus are drastically different than those of heterosexuals. People stay in the closet for many reasons -- family, religious, financial, profession, social and safety.
A drinking survey from the Richmond College Dean's Office revealed that students' drinking habits do not usually affect their academics. Dan Fabian, chemical health coordinator and associate dean of Richmond College, created the survey and sent it in an e-mail to undergraduate students on Nov.
It's true that the recent frat e-mail was disgustingly prejudiced. But more to the point, the images that were so bluntly described are not that far from the true social life of a typical Richmond student. Here's the REAL problem: The university cannot figure out how to clean up after its students.
If the University of Richmond had a Gossip Girl, it would probably be Charlie Kline. Not only does he know what movie is playing at The Pier, who is looking for a babysitter and where apartments are for rent, he also may know what you did last weekend, where you bought your shirt and why you broke up. Tucked behind the blue counter of the Campus Activities Desk, located at the valve of our campus' aortic Commons, Charlie is unintentionally the C of many A and B conversations. "I hear some random, random bits of conversation," he said.
For six seasons, Americans have tuned in to NBC's reality show "The Biggest Loser," a weight-loss competition whose winner receives $250,000. The show's sixth season, which is currently airing, documents the struggles and sweat of eight teams, each made up of two family members. But, when the new season began airing on Sept.
"Who's next?" she calls as you step up to the plate. "I'll have the turkey sandwich with BBQ Baked Lays, two strawberry yogurts, a veggie tray, a large Powerade and an oatmeal cup," you say as she punches the color-coded buttons, the balance rises, the Spidercard is swiped (twice) with a "How you doin' today?" punctuated by the one-handed wave of a paper bag, and before you can answer, she's off... "Did she get all that?" you wonder as you watch her glide through the aluminum galley.