I Infiltrated an A Cappella Group So You Don’t Have To

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That’s right gang. Despite having no vocal training, no singing experience, and only the vaguest idea of what a time signature is, I went undercover and pretended to be in an a cappella group for two (2) years so you don’t have to. And now the jig is up, and I’m here to share with you all the things I’ve learned in my secret time singing without instruments. The Group in Question: Take Five, Kenyon’s premiere jazz a cappella group, the sexiest group on campus and the only group stupid enough to take me.

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10 o’clock List: Ways I Almost Died at Kenyon

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courtesy of Kenyon’s website

Here’s the thing everyone: sometimes I’m a real dumbass. Like, in terms of Book Smarts and being a Learned Young Man, no, I’m not dumb in that regard. In fact I like to think I’m pretty smart, if it’s all the same. But just in life? Real dullard, every now and then. And the danger about being a fool out there in the world is… well, danger, which I seem to find myself in more times than my parents would be comfortable with, probably. So, that being said, here’s some of the times I nearly died on this campus because I was being stupid:

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Old K Laundry Looks

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hi, Nate here, I picked this image, does anyone else remember the Chamber of Secrets game where you had to fight the Weasley’s washing machine? Crazy

I want to preface this cursed article by saying that I am fully aware of how disgusting the concept of this is. I’m here to tell you that I don’t give a singular hoot. Needless to say, I didn’t care enough about myself or my health to stop myself from embarking on this journey! Here are five outfits perfect for any occasion that I made from the pile of clothes left in the Old K laundry room:

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The Sun is Back and Now I have No Excuse

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When I first pitched this idea it was supposed to be a joke, I thought to myself [read aloud in Cookie Monster fashion]: “haha dis a funny bit and I rely on external validation to live. Me want laughs. Me get laughs.” Hubris. Pure hubris. I thought all this crap would end with the first day of spring. I thought the sun would come back and I’d shed my seasonal depression like a drunk girl shimmying out of skinny jeans at the end of the night. I thought I could blame all my vices, all my misfortunes, on the dismal, Dante-esque circle of hell that is Ohio winter we all just slogged through, but instead I still wake up in the mornings, sun pouring through my window like what should be hot coffee, feeling like a Moxie turd crushed underfoot in the library pit.

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