Peppered throughout magazines and blog sites are optimistic articles about delicious summer activities and fashion trends to anticipate and enjoy. However, there is one thing about summer that is so heinous and disgusting that I feel I must warn the masses before it destroys them: flip-flops, fashion’s Anti-Christ.

Rebound sex is like cilantro: either you love it or think it tastes like feet you absolutely despise it. But unlike the most polarizing garnish on the planet, rebound sex comes with baggage and emotions. And then more emotions. Even if that’s not what you planned.

Something tells me this lady isn’t making a salad.

You shouldn’t fake it. It’s bad to fake it. It’s rude to fake it.
But the truth is, there’s an exception to every rule. And in the case of fakin’ a big O, there are three.

Like most of my friends, I went on birth control my freshman year of college. But unlike most of my friends, I didn’t go on it because I was having sex (if you know what I looked like freshman year you’ll understand why that was a long way off), but because it seemed like the thing to do. And because I heard it would make my period more pleasant. And my boobs bigger.

You finished your last exam early and, after waiting for someone else to turn theirs in (you don’t want to be first!), ran down the steps of that lecture hall, slammed that baby on the desk and skipped your way to freedom

In just 2 weeks, Prince William (AKA. the one that got away) is going to marry Kate Middleton in front of a global audience.

You know what’s depressing? Coming home after a long day of classes and group meetings and work and discovering that your DVR is totally empty. What the hell, TV? What is up with every. single. one of my shows going on hiatus at the same time?

The random hook up. Probably the only thing more common at a college party than drunk people screaming to Journey. That’s why people are there, isn’t it? That’s why we girls spend hours picking out outfits that are sexy without being too slutty, and risking third degree burns with a flat iron.

If you don’t know what TOMS shoes are, something is wrong with you. Seriously, even my mom has a pair. And she’s 60. I have 5 pairs. My best friends each have 2. And every time I’m anywhere, I spot at least 5 other people wearing them.