Katy Perry does pin-up pink

Would you go to Avatar land?

Making sneakers fashionable

The real life worst boyfriends ever

Oh Canada!…and their hot men

When bad hair happens to attractive people

5 sketchy guys you’re likely to meet at college parties

What to do the morning after a hookup

How to feel more in control of your life

Granted, I’ve always been way ahead of the social learning curve but I think most of us would agree.  Forget leaving your twenties behind, I think those awkward early teen years are the ones I’d sooner like to leave in the dust.  Seriously.  Do you remember…

Having not-so-great fashion sense.
I remember being a freshman in high school and wearing an Abercrombie tee for gym class that said “Nighttime Full-Contact Football” across my boobs in sparkly letters.  And I believe I paired that stellar top with some white running shorts and those Adidas sneakers everyone had.  Except mine were gold.  Now tell me, who let me walk out of the locker room looking like such a horrendous mess?

Bad hair.
Maybe you were the brunette who tried Sun-In and ended up looking like Carrot Top.  Maybe you thought pink highlights were a good statement to make. Maybe you didn’t know what a flat iron was. Or were you like me and experimented briefly (but on multiple occasions) with bangs?  And I’m not talking about the cool side-sweepy ones.

Dating idiot guys because they were cool.
You learned to interpret their various grunts because words just escaped these beautiful creatures.  The epitome of high school dating success was having the hunky captain of a major sports team (aka basically any of the teams except golf club) walk you to class.  It didn’t matter if he was a senior taking freshman English for the fourth time or if his drink of choice was Peppermint Schnapps stolen from his parents’ liquor cabinet.  You were in L.U.V.

Braces.  Acne.  Glasses.
The nerd trifecta.  Chances are you had at least one.  If you suffered through all three, then I’m super proud you made it out alive.  You must have had an excellent psychiatrist.

“Dad, can I get a ride?”
Unless you lived in the deep South where they practically hand you a diver’s license along with your birth certificate, chances are you were bumming rides from the ‘rents 24/7.  What’s cooler than getting picked up from a party in a Volvo station wagon driven by a 45 year-old-man in his pajamas?  Pretty much anything.

What do you miss least about your teen years?

I'm not trying to be your mother - oh goodness, no - I'm just here to help you out of those little etiquette dilemmas. So here goes: a quick lesson in etiquette. The sh*t you might actually need to know.]

I always leave salons with bad hair cuts. (Although I must admit the last one was my fault- it should have tipped me off right away when I realized the hair stylist did not speak a word of English.) Anyway, last week reader Josie asked us to feature an article on hair-salon etiquette: “manners pertaining communication with your hair dresser from conversation to tips, how to react if you don’t get the expected results, etc.” So here’s to you Josie..

Small talk. For most women (and some men), their hairstylist is their therapist, best friend, psychic, and lover (you know, hypothetically speaking) all rolled into one. What you tell them is completely up to you, but remember that while there is practically an unwritten rule about the stylist-stylee confidentiality, your stylist isn’t legally obligated to keep quiet. Just because you trust her to give you a killer hair-do, doesn’t mean you can trust her to not tell everyone about your cheating on your taxes, boyfriend, calculus exam, whatever. In fact, salons are havens for gossip, so just be careful.

On another note, if you don’t want to talk to the person cutting your hair, you really don’t have to. I’ve been there; once you run out of small talk (“Yes, it is hot outside, isn’t it?”) and have nothing more to add to the conversation, the silence gets pretty awkward. If you ever find yourself in this predicament, politely escape via magazine. Relax. It’s okay; just make sure to glance up now and then to make sure your hair is coming along the way you’d like.

Bad haircuts. What should you do if you end up with a bad cut? Ask them to fix it. And by “ask” I mean “tell.” Yes, it might be a pain in the butt for them to redo your hair, but remember that you’re paying them for the service. If your hair doesn’t come out exactly the way you want it to, it’s not rude to expect someone at the salon to fix it. It’s better for them if you speak up and get a haircut you love than to walk out unhappy and tell everyone where that mullet came from.

Note: This isn’t a free pass to be bitchy or to start crying and threaten her with the scissors. If you’re unhappy with the results, calmly explain to the stylist what’s wrong with the look, why it isn’t what you asked for, and offer up a suggestion on how to fix it.  This can usually be avoided by bringing a photograph/sketch of the exact style you want from different angles or explaining beforehand your definition of “just two inches.”

Tipping.

I hope that helped clarify some things. I’ve had my fair share of salon disasters (going in for red hair…coming out with purple?), so I’m pretty confident in these tips.

And once again, if you’ve got any etiquette conundrums, questions or gray areas you need help sorting out, let me know in the comments. I’ll be sure to help you out in next week’s column!

First we had the trainwrecks, Matt and Kimber living in a dump with their newborn baby, who might as well be smoking crystal meth too. Not to mention their brush with gay porn to make money to feed their habit, but I’ll get into that later.

Anyway, let the dissecting begin.

I am dying to know what will happen to Matt and Kimber’s baby. That poor thing may just cry itself to death. But I guess they aren’t completely terrible parents. I mean, they did bring her to the daycare center at the porn production studio. Um, seriously?

Since we’re on the topic of porn, Matt getting into the gay porn biz, is kind of hilarious. If I remember correctly, doesn’t he like to do guys? He may not have gone through with it this time, but I have a sneaking suspicion that he might consider it again since Kimber is now doing their drug dealer.

Now, on to Miss Eden. This bitch deserved to have her ass handed to her by Christian. Yes, he is so unbelievably shady and manipulative, but I really couldn’t help but adore him at this very moment. I never saw it coming. However, I have no doubt that Eden will return with some god awful scheme to get back at him.

Oh so exciting!

And last, but certainly not least, there was the headcase Eden (with the bad hair) who probably would’ve become addicted to all three pill prescriptions that Christian gave her if he didn’t crack his whip and send her to drug rehab. Side note: I think she exaggerates her heterosexuality because her mom is a lesbo. But that’s just me.

Sadly, we’ll have to wait two weeks for the next new episode. What will I do with myself next Tuesday?

First, her parents go and give her a stupid name like Rumer. It’s not spelled right to be the noun (or transitive verb), so her name is basically a made-up word that sounds like the thing your worst enemy spreads about you in high school.

Second, her mom goes and marries a guy only a few years older than her. So now she’s got a perpetual kid in a trucker hat as a dad, and probably has to fight off urges to A) sleep with him herself or B) picture him naked with her mom.

Thirdly, her real dad has been known to rub up against every hot young thing in Hollywood.

Gross.

And as if all that wasn’t enough, she’s got some of the worst genes I’ve seen in a while.

It’s totally not her fault, but I mean, who knew that Bruce Willis and Demi Moore would combine to create someone…so round? I’ve truly never seen a face so oval in my life, and her newest choice of hair color isn’t helping things.

PerezHilton can’t stand her, and always calls her out on whatever she tries to do to divert attention away from her radically round head.

If I were her, I’d be crying every night from some of the things he writes.

While I consider myself to be above insulting someone’s genetic make-up, I’m not above saying that if I were Rumer Willis, I’d be pretty damn pissed at my parents.

For everything. Ever.

…Especially my tiny eyes.

Okay, I think we can all agree that Carrot Top, even when he first popped up in Hollywood, was no Justin Timberlake. He wasn’t even a Screech.

But he also wasn’t appearing in my nightmares, either, waking me up in a cold, cold sweat, like he is now.

I know we here at College Candy have mentioned the ginger-kid “comic” before (and that was one too many times) but seriously, DOUBLE-YOU-TEE-EFF?!

What the CRAP is this?!?!? There are so many things going wrong with this man, that I’m about to fall over and have a brain aneurysm:

1. The hair. We get it. Big, poofy, curly orange hair. It’s your thing, it’s your gimmick. It’s bad.

2. The eyebrows. The dyed black eyebrows. Orange eyebrows would have been better than this.

3. The mesh tank top. Mesh tank tops should never be worn, under any circumstances. Especially this circumstance.

4. The…muscles? Do these things even qualify as biceps? They are mutant-like and asymmetrical.

5. The “Carrot Top” patch on his jeans. Blegh.

The weirdest thing (and weirder than the obvious plastic surgery) is that there are celebrities everywhere that actually resemble Carrot Top, and I’m not the first one to notice:

Danny Bonaduce!

Shawn White!

Joan Rivers!

After checking him out on IMDB, it seems like Scott Thompson has little on his professional horizon. He was, however, slammed pretty bad at Flavor Flav’s VH1 Roast. Kinda feel bad, but if he’s gonna go out in public looking like a gargoyle, he’s got it coming.

Oh yeah, there’s one more thing about Carrot Top I forgot to mention…

He’s Fergalicious!