Heroes Get Remembered, But Ledges Never Die

I want to preface this post with the information that I’m 5 beers deep and I’m not certain I have sobered up from last night. That’s your fair warning.

There’s a lot of people that deserve props in my life. But I’m not going that direction. The place I want to give a shout out to is an eight foot concrete slab in Bloomington, Indiana behind Woodburn Hall. I’ll start where all good stories start; the middle.

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An Ode to Jockamo Pizza

I believe that pizza is like sex, but better. There is some sort of connection my body has with lactose and gluten that really revs my engines. I don’t know if it is the 1/16 Italian I have in my blood, or maybe it was growing up with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, but few things in life can imitate the Art of the ‘Za.

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