WTF? So you can sleep with Edward??

When I was waiting outside of the Scholastic store in Soho to buy the 7^th Harry Potter book, I saw a reporter from the New York Post who was walking up and down the massive line and interviewing people for a story about the book’s release. I overheard him speaking with one guy who had a lightning bolt scar on his head.

I know what you’re thinking—“All right, it’s kind of odd that an adult man would dress up for the release of a kid’s book, but it’s not totally unheard of. That dude probably wasn’t any weirder than any of the other people in the line.”

Wrong. This nutbar didn’t just draw a lightning bolt on his forehead—as he told the reporter, he had literally carved the scar into his skin with a razor blade.

And to make matters worse, I was ahead of him in line. Yes, I had arrived at the bookstore before the psycho.

So needless to say, I know a thing or two about what happens when fandom gets extreme. Even so, Twihards—people who are obsessed with the Twilight books and movies—take things a step beyond anything I’ve ever seen before. As of Wednesday, at least 2,100 screenings of New Moon, the second movie in the series, were sold out—and those are only the showings measured by MovieTickets.com. There’s also a ton of Twilight merchandise available all over the web, stuff that ranges from normal (t-shirts, posters) to full-on batsh*t crazy (A shower curtain screen-printed with a giant picture of Robert Pattinson’s face. A life size vinyl wall decal of Edward Cullen’s silhouette, accented by the words “Be Safe.” A pair of underwear that’s illustrated with the sexy vamp’s face—inside the crotch). Read More »

Today was an unfortunate day. While perusing the internet, I ran across a teaser of Levi Johnston’s Playgirl magazine photo shoot. My curiosity got the best of me, and to say it killed the cat is an understatement. I think “made the cat look at a whole lot of nasty testicles…and then killed it” is more accurate.

I followed the link to Playgirl.com and was immediately overwhelmed by peen. (Note: I am not including the link here to spare your eyes.) Never have I ever seen so many schlongs in my entire life. All shapes, sizes and pube lengths; it was like my eyes were under attack by penis-shaped daggers.

This experience did more than force me to fight my natural gag reflex/delete the browsing history on the university computer I was using in the computer lab; it got me thinking about the presence of Playgirl at all. Read More »

The reign of social media lives on as the New Oxford dictionary (“The world’s most trusted dictionary) named ‘unfriend’ the word of the year. Yes, as in: “Some whack-job keeps invited me to play Farmville so I unfriended his lame ass.” Another point for Facebook, and another hit to society’s overall intelligence. To ‘unfriend’ someone may be the ultimate diss on the interwebs, but in reality, Oxford is just verbing a noun.

To make matters worse, other finalists for the word of the year included: sexting, intexticated, tramp stamp and deleb. For those not as in the loop as the New Oxford word of the year panel, deleb is defined as a dead celebrity. I, for one, have never heard the word ‘deleb’ used in everyday conversation, but what do I know? I’m still over here thinking the correct term was to ‘defriend.’ Embarrassing.

While these words are culturally clever and all, I can guarantee word-enthusiasts all over the world are groaning right now. I’m just wondering how long it takes before ‘WTF,’ ‘LOL’ and ‘UR2GR82B4GOT10’ get their moment of glory. Also wondering how long it will take my spell check to realize ‘unfriend’ is legit now. Seriously, what is this proto-language and where do we come up with it?

Every week I make a list. Not a grocery list or a to-do list…or that list, because I don’t really do groceries (there is a reason why they deliver pizza) and to-do lists are totally not my scene (if such a scene even exists) and, unfortunately, I haven’t added to that list in quite awhile.

No, this list is a top ten-style countdown about the hard-hitting issues, like which mash-ups are the best ever or which apps rock my world.

This week I’m focusing on the “click click flash” that consumes your weekend. You go out, someone inevitably breaks out the camera (every 4 minutes) and you start posing like you’re ready for the cover of Nylon. Great idea, but these pictures are going to end up on Facebook for the world to see the next day when you’re sober. Oof. And with today’s technology, you might be even caught in real time.

Who’s guilty?
Actually, who isn’t? Read More »

Week after week (after week after week…), CollegeCandy and our pal John bring you some of the weirdest, funniest, and saddest things he hears on his college campus. And we know he’s not the only one who hears this stuff. Join the Overheard revolution! Listen in on some weirdos’ conversations and share them in the comments or send ‘em over. You know there’s a lot of funny things to be heard on your campus, so get to it. We’ll throw them in a future post!

(Two girls in the dining hall.)

Girl 1: God, I am seriously the best wing man ever!

Girl 2: Well, who’s your wing man?

Girl 1: (Pointing to her breasts and shimmying) I’ve got two.

(Man, woman, waiting in the lobby of a hair salon.)

Man (looking in mirror): What do you think? It worked for Wolverine, you know.

Woman: No. It wouldn’t work for you.

Man: It’s … it’s working already. Read More »

One weekend, I went to a mixer at one of the best frats at my school. They had a huge party coming up and the only way to avoid waiting on long lines is knowing a brother very well, if you know what I mean.

Four (…or five or six) drinks later, I found myself chatting with a slightly creepy and indisputably not-cute guy who claimed to be roommates with one of the coolest, hottest members his pledge class. I figured he was my “in,” my protection from shivering in a line for two hours while my buzz drifted slowly away. So I turned on the charm, laughed at his jokes, touched his arm.

Yet even in my state of inebriation, my creep-dar started bleeping. Something was off about this kid and I couldn’t quite figure out what it was.  I decided to ask him some questions to verify his so-called brotherhood.  Our conversation: Read More »

Ready to see this guy's hockey stick?

Are you getting pumped about Levi Johnston’s upcoming full-frontal spread in Playgirl?

Wait, what’s that? You just threw up in your mouth a little?

Levi might be conventionally attractive, but his status as Bristol Palin’s baby-daddy, Jon Gosselin’s new buddy – Michael Lohan must be green with envy – and an all-around jerk (in response to New York Magazine asking him how he was adjusting to life in the Big Apple, Levi said, “I run this city. It ain’t no thang.” UGH) means that we’re less than excited about the idea of having naked pictures of this asshat plastered all over the internet next week.

After giving the matter some thought, we realized that there are actually only five guys that we’d be even more opposed to seeing in their birthday suits. Read the list if you dare—the thought of these dudes naked might just make you shudder. Read More »

Ok, so “Superman That Ho” wasn’t the most romantic song of all time, but at least it had a good beat and a fun little dance to go along with it. I expected a lot from Soulja Boy (Tell ‘Em) after that monster hit… and then I heard this (the lyrics are epic).

Did he really collaborate on a song about emoticons? “LOL smiley face”? For serious?

Congratulations, Gucci Mane and Soulja Boy; you have officially beat “Tardy for the Party” for the worst song of all time.

Sometimes you need a glass of wine.

And sometimes – like after you come home from bombing an exam to find an email from your long distance boyfriend saying he “just can’t do it anymore” and you knock a glass of water onto your brand new MacBook – you need a lot more. But something about chugging Two Buck Chuck straight from the bottle is neither classy nor refined, and having to keep pouring glass after glass just slows down the healing process.

Sounds like to need this (big) guy.

A wine glass big enough to hold a full bottle of Boones Farm Strawberry Fields?

I’ll take two, please.

Though we hate it when guys call us crazy/psycho, every girl out there has had their moment. For me, it was when I drafted an email to a non-existent person and “accidentally” sent it to my crush, forcing him to write back. Or the time I called a different crush’s work and used a fake name to see if he was indeed working late or just lying to me to hook up with some other girl. Or when I used to walk by yet another crush’s dorm to see if his light was on and if he was home.

Ok, so I’ve had my fair share of crazy-time, but it’s not my fault. I’m not a crazy person – boys just make me that way. And I know you ladies can relate.

After leaving a long, drunken voicemail for my newest conquest last weekend (“I don’t understand why you’re not calling me. I like you. Do you like me? Oh god I sound crazy. I’m not cra-” This is where my friend grabbed the phone and threw it across the room…), I sobered up, wiped up my dignity and deleted his number from my phone.

Then, as I sat indulging in some pretzels dipped in frosting, I started wondering what other girls were taking a ride on the crazy train. While no one wanted to admit it, I forced the CollegeCandy writers to fess up to their lowest moments. Read More »