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My college roommate, Julie, called me last night. As soon as she said my name, I knew who it was.

We were roommates for only one quarter, but what a grand quarter it was. Within minutes of meeting her, I knew I loved her! (no, not like that, you lesbo-obsessed nuts).

We reminisced for hours and then she shared her news. Julie's getting married in June! To her prince charming in Virginia Beach. Then they are honeymooning to Lake Tahoe.

In all the nostalgia, I decided to pull out an old piece I wrote a while back and put it up here on the journal. This is totally true. We really did this... along with many other crazy acts. We even have picture to prove it. One such picture is on my fun pics page and shows me and Julie roasting marshmallows over cinnamon candles in out dorm room... or as we called it - "Breaking the law!!"

Here's the piece I call "Morsels of Motivation."

I refused to allow the infamous "freshman fifteen" to catch up with me. So my high-speed walk turned into a slow jog. I tactfully opted to foot the mile between my speech communications class and my fifth-floor dormitory room.

Every prospective freshman that went through summer orientation was warned by the all-knowing upperclassmen about the "freshman fifteen." The wise juniors and seniors told use the dreaded weight is the average gained when new college students realize the dining and munching freedom that accompanies their new parent-free style of living.

My roommate, Julie, and I vowed to outsmart the uninvited curse. When the weather was nice, we passed up the campus bus and hiked from class to class. We hauled our tennis racquets to the university's courts as often as the team would tolerate our countless stray balls. We did sit-ups every afternoon while watching syndicated reruns of our favorite television show.

As I entered Langdale Hall and trudged through the lobby towards the lonesome stairwell, my eyes were involuntarily drawn to the attractive shiny doors of the elevator. I hastened my pace towards the stairwell and smirked knowingly as the malevolent contraption opened its jaws to devour yet another small group of freshman girls.

Julie had our makeshift gym prepared when I arrived. The beds were pushed flush with the walls and the exercise pads were stretched out before the television. "Come on! 'Friends' is about to start," Julie announced in a panic. "Can you get the rewards?"

"Sure," I said as I dropped my backpack and headed for the closet. I reached for a bag behind a large storage box on the top shelf in the back corner. I retrieved the bag of rewards from its dark hiding place and positioned it at the foot of our exercise pads.

We had good intentions. Really, we did. But sit-ups were hard work for college students who hadn't faced the grueling likes of a headstrong, high school gym coach in over a year. Since the threat of running laps in the hot sun was no longer a factor, we required a little extra motivation to get in the sit-up mood.

"Commence exercise," Julie directed as she and I began our daily routine. I placed my hands behind my head and leaned forward. I strained and pulled and moaned and released cries of utter determination. Finally, my left elbow brushed my left knee and my right hand reached for a reward.

Success! I popped the bite-sized chocolate chip cookie into my mouth, released my stomach muscles, flopped backward onto the pad, and prepared for the next strenuous round.