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Your 21st doesn’t have to end badly

On my 21st birthday last February, I did not get a bartender to spank me or defecate all over the bathroom stall. I had a low-key toga party at a friend’s house. So I was disgusted when I read [last Friday's "License To Party," by Caitlin Byrnes], that in some circles such behavior comes out of degrading efforts to celebrate 21st birthdays.

How to avoid Tate’s many annoyances

It was a cool day, a day not unlike today, when I was walking to my first class. I had little time to spare so I knew my only route to on-time arrival was through the dreaded Tate Plaza. My palms were sweaty and my knees grew weak as I walked the steps that lead to the battlefield – papers falling from the sky like missiles, opinions ringing out like gunshots and masses of humanity caught in the chaos not knowing where to turn or how to escape.

Road ahead not easy for grads

I don’t know which scares me more: not having a job after graduation in May, or having to go home and live with my parents. It appears I will have to make the choice. Last week, I lost my job as part-time secretary at the Georgia Center. Budget cuts, they said.