Listen, I get it — I’m a loser. I’ve been a big ole fan of The Daily Texan since I was a senior in high school (don’t ask), and one of my favorite things to do around May was read the 30 columns from old ass graduates leaving behind an era of great journalism.
One time, I stress vomited on 26th Street in broad daylight because of the Texan. It was equal parts strawberry and migraine. And then a frat boy yelled, “Are you pregnant?” at me from across the street. And I still work here. That’s how much I love this place.