[One of the greatest aspects of college life is the morning-after recap with friends. You stumble out of bed, grab your liquid of choice, and gather around the living room to replay (and remind yourself of) the events of last night. You laugh, you cringe and you share the highest of highs...and the rock-bottom lowest of lows. We thought we'd bring the fun of the recap to CollegeCandy, so grab that coffee and take part in the deliciously awkward moments your CC friends have to share.]

I will admit it, I’m an awkward girl.  I’ll say goodbye to someone and then walk in the same direction as them with a stupid grin on my face.  I’ve messed up high fives more times than should be legally allowed.  I’ve called my roommates good friend (whom I’ve known for months) “Tyler,” when his name is “Lucas”…HOW DO YOU MESS THAT UP?  I’m able to take a perfectly normal moment and transform it into a typical scene in any Wes Anderson film (it’s a gift). The trouble is, I don’t realize how incredibly dorky I must look until looking back, and slapping my forehead accordingly.

So by the rules of physics (which I am unsurprisingly sucky at) it would only make sense that I would take this persona I’ve been cursed blessed with and apply to almost every sexual encounter I’ve experienced.  Well, of course, the beginnings are more of learning experiences rather than “fun timez.”   Now let’s time travel back 7 years when it all began…

Cue the hazy flashbacks and dream-like sound effects. Read More »

Like Nair, I’ve always been a little freaked out by my hair.

Being Italian, I’m blessed with lots of the stuff. It’s nice on my head, but anywhere else…a little less so. At least according to society.

The first time I realized nobody liked a hairy girl was in 6th grade. I was sitting in class in a t-shirt, trying to deal with early June heat and a new sensation I now know as “bra sweat”.

A kid, who I’m pretty sure was (and probably still is) named David, turned around and stared at me while the teaching wasn’t looking. “Yo, look at your arms!” he said as loudly as only a 12-year-old boy can, “who invited Harry and the Hendersons over?”

Harry and the Hendersons was a show based around Bigfoot.

That stinging comment has (obviously) stayed with me for years, and since then I have shaved everything—at least everything I could reach.

I often wish I could just chuck the razor in the drawer and never deal with balancing precariously in my shower again, but 6th grade David is always around, along with completely hairless movie stars, magazine models, and guys who continually obsess over girls being clean shaven “down there”.

This girl, on the other hand, is no slave to the razor. At least, she hasn’t been for a year. Read More »