Dan Gallagher
Dan Gallagher is a fourth year student at the University of Delaware. He hopes to one day own a dog and make money.
Dan Gallagher's Latest Posts
Springsteen, Squirtle and Sex: Questions You Need Answered
Half of these questions are made-up, half of these questions are stupid, and half of these questions are sexy. If you or your mother would like to email me actual questions, please send them to dangall@udel.edu
I Hate You August
August is the neglected hormonal teenager of the summer months. It doesn’t receive the love that America heaps upon July, nor is it embraced with sun-kissed arms like June.
The Perils of the 2056 Presidency
I have an irrational fear of being ousted by the general public for something I will write in the immediate future. My preferred nightmare includes:
1) I am on pace to win a revered place in society. (United States Presidency, for example)
2) Heartbreakingly, something “edgy” I wrote between the ages of 16-24 will be uncovered by the general public. (I use “edgy” because the idea of socially accepted writing changes from decade to decade. Just ask Mark Twain!)
3) This article/tweet/Facebook status will cause a fierce outcry from the public, thus resulting in my loss of United States Presidency.
Pillows are for Losers: Seven Places to Pass Out on a College Campus
Number Seven: Barstool I suppose that last final would’ve been hard, had it not been for your six Red Bulls, four Monsters, two black coffees, and one beautiful sunrise. You’re a ticking sleep bomb of adrenaline, energy drinks and coffee breath, but DAMNIT if you don’t celebrate the conclusion of another semester. Please, grab your [...]
A Polo, Lacoste, and Brooks Brothers Shirt Walk into a Closet
Minutes before their owner was to go out for the night, three shirts had a conversation regarding who reigned supreme in the college closet hierarchy.
A Home-Schooled International Student Writes to His Mother and Tries to Understand What the Hell American College Lifestyle Is
I write with chills in my bones and contempt in my voice. The sense of direction I thought I incurred from years of schooling has become frayed, pointless, and ephemeral. This sleep-away camp, which was promised to me as a gateway to intellectual stimulation, is nothing more than a booze-soaked exhibition in horndoggery, casting away those who seek academic guidance in favor of perpetual alcoholic incompetence.