By Aaron Hernandez
It all started one foggy winter night (foggy for atmosphere and winter for a lack of specific memory). After one especially raunchy meeting for the Campus Chronicle (yeah, I know, meta), the topic of a certain “fashion show” was brought up. Piqued by my own narcissistic pipe dreams of being a model, I shimmied on over to my future fashion show partner, Taylor Pittenger (T-pit for short). She had brought up an interest in being a designer for the upcoming show. The mission was clear: somehow find a way to get in on this fashion thing. So I did what any logical human person would do. I forcibly injected myself into T-pit’s plans as a designer and, much like some potentially lethal parasites, I took hold. Fast forward to the literal night before the show. The three musketeers, T-pit, myself, and Hannah Barnes (a.k.a. No Sleep) slowly descended into insanity. The classic struggles were there. Fits of pent up rage and regret. Laughing at nothing. Realizing just how comfortable laying on the floor really is. But somehow, we made it. But why regale the suffering that is hot glue and insomnia? No reason, really. I’m really here to talk about one piece in our cardboard collection: the samurai.