There's more to us than what's popping out of our dresses, you know.

I just got back from the happiest place on earth. And no, I’m not talking about Disneyland. Although Vegas is a lot LIKE Disneyland, but instead of candy you have booze and instead of rides you have prostitutes. Which I guess can be considered rides…. If I had spent more than three days there, my entire body and life would have started decaying as quickly as my morals did (just kidding guys, no secret marriages here!).

But beyond all the slot machines, free booze and horny people everywhere, Las Vegas is like single life grown in a petri dish; it’s bigger and more rampant, and it lets you observe some things. A lot of the weekend involved putting on our hottest outfits, going to the hottest places, and (hopefully) flirting with the hottest guys.  But somewhere in between flirting with the bouncer to get to the head of the line (which probably only works for Lindsay Lohan) and making eyes at the cute guy across the dance floor, it hit me: the giant singles meat market that is Las Vegas is not too far off from the giant singles meat market that is my life in Chicago. Read More »

Ahh summer time. The heat is blistering, the Natty Lite is chilled and the pool beckons. For those of us not taking summer classes, these three months are a glorious break from homework, studying and fluorescent lighting. Yes, the whole summer yawns out blue skies and cut-offs until late August and it’s hard to imagine ever going back to school.

Except, I do imagine it. I catch myself worrying about non-existent assignments and responsibilities that won’t resume until September. But even more, I constantly find myself spacing out at work, reminiscing about all the good stuff that comes along with college. Mostly the whole not-bored-at-work-9-to-5 thing.

And I miss it!

Meal Plans: While I’m lucky enough not to be taking classes this summer, I do have to work — which means I’m stuck in a college town all summer long without the benefit of visiting home, and therefore the benefit of home cookin’. My freshman year, I ate dining hall food. My sophomore year, my sorority dues included a meal plan. This summer, with my sorority house closed and the dining halls freshmen-infested, I’m armed only with my apartment’s kitchen and whatever the hell I find when I Google “easy, cheap, healthy recipes” and pudding. Do I enjoy learning to cook? Absolutely. Would I prefer a cook to prepare my meals? Uh, hell yes. Plus, there’s no clean up if you’re not the one using all the dishes… Read More »

By my senior year of college, I could fly through my assignments and earn A’s on half-assed work. I could effectively balance bar-hopping and writing essays, and working part-time jobs and cramming for midterms. I knew that grad school would kick it up a notch, and I was ready for the challenge. However, I had forgotten what it felt like to try and not succeed, and I wasn’t quite as prepared for my self-esteem to take a beating.

I admit to not putting 100% into my academic efforts in college, but that was because I didn’t need to. I was writing papers with a buzz on and taking finals hungover, and still made Dean’s List. I knew that grad school would be different though, and I fully intended on being a legitimate scholar.

If you are considering grad school, you are probably doing very well in school. By senior year, you’re probably breaking the curves and tutoring your friends. You probably stand out in class for having thoughtful ideas and a firm grasp of the subject matter. Newsflash: Everyone in Grad School has gotten used to being a star scholar.

Often, PhD students and MA students will be mixed into classes together. I went from taking Shakespeare classes with business majors who didn’t know the definition of “iambic pentameter” to listening to a PhD debate over which folio edition was most likely the Bard’s original manuscript. WTF? My thoughts exactly. Read More »

If my life was a movie, I’d look jaw-dropping-hot in a little black dress, and every college hook-up would involve a Freddie Prinze, Jr. lookalike leaning in for a kiss, while Six Pence None the Richer’s “Kiss Me” plays in the background. But, since my life is not She’s All That, my spit-swapping stories involve a lot of liquor, and a lot of regrets. There’s a Now! That’s What I Call Music CD out there with Aaron Carter’s “Aaron’s Party (Come Get It)” on the track listing. I know this because it made up the soundtrack of a one night stand a few years ago. Yeah, that’s how my sex life goes down.

Life doesn’t come equipped with an orchestra. If your sexcapades, like your iTunes, are on shuffle, here are a few songs you probably don’t want on your playlist.

1. “Dat Baby”–Shawty Putt feat. Lil Jon

With a chorus of “Dat baby don’t look like me,” and an opening line, “Dat baby ain’t mine… I’m sorry, bitch you heard Maury,” this jam is an instant libido-killer. The last thing a guy wants to hear as he’s sliding into home base is “You are NOT the father!” Sure, you’re using protection, but condoms aren’t 100% effective…paternity tests, on the other hand, don’t lie. Besides, no woman wants to find out that her cute college hookup won’t take responsibility if an accident does happen. Read More »

Seriously, how awkward is the break-up convo? In the words of 90s one-hit-wonder Nada Surf, “even if you’ve gone together for only a short time, and haven’t been too serious, there’s still a feeling of rejection when someone says she prefers the company of others to your exclusive company.”

Sometimes, I think finding out that your mate has cheated is a blessing in disguise, because you can sidestep the entire “this isn’t working” discussion and end things in an explosive fight instead. Of course, for those of us who just had to choose nice, faithful boys, it can be hard to let the poor guy down. So, we make up excuses. Sometimes we even lie. Read More »

For some reason, all the men I encounter lately consider awkward to be the new hot thing in the art of pick-up lines. I’m not sure who these work on, or if they really do, ever, but something must be inspiring people to come up with gems like the following. Maybe it’s that crappy Pick Up Artist?

1.“You intimidate me because you’re [insert your ethnicity here].” Hi, try responding to that—when you’re clearly not interested—without sounding like a complete racist. I deserve a drink from the bartender just for being made to feel that uncomfortable, thanks.

2. “You look like you should be on that show So You Think You Can Dance.” Caveat here is, if you are not dancing in any way, shape, or form. I’m wearing shorts and 4-inch heels, these aren’t exactly my dancing shoes, but thanks? Read More »

Getting hit on can be one of two things; slightly flattering and fun, or completely disgusting and oh-so incredibly lame. In my experience, being hit on by lesbians is an occurrence almost totally devoid of the latter.

I’m sure some of you have lesbian pick-up horror stories (or fantasies, whatever the case may be), but whenever I’ve been the attempted pick-up-ee by another woman, I have felt neither the grossed out shivers or the latent uncomfortableness that often accompanies the male pick-up.

For one thing, women always start a conversation first, asking a question, asking a name, instead of going right for the proverbial jugular of “you’re hot, can I buy you a drink?” Easing into things allows both parties to feel like they’re actually talking, rather than diving headfirst into a mating ritual. Read More »

Has this happened to you?

You’re at a bar, minding your own business, talking to your friends and occasionally turning to see if that cute guy by the bathroom is actually with that girl he’s standing next to, or is just waiting in line to pee, when out of nowhere, a dude steps into your line of vision and says something slightly to very insulting. Don’t understand how it’s possible? Here are two real life examples:

Dude: “You two girls suck”

My friend and I freeze, staring at him in complete confusion.

Dude: “Seriously. You suck.”

Me: “Ok.”

I don’t know what else to say, and don’t care enough to trade insults with him. Nudging my friend with my elbow, I signal that it’s time to vacate the area.

Dude: “I mean, I’ve been here for an hour and haven’t been able to talk to either one of you!”

He grins, and asks us our names, and starts to talk to us. He’s actually friendly, but we leave soon after introductions because neither of us can forget how utterly rude he had been only moments ago.

At another bar with another friend, I’m trying to squeeze through an insanely huge crowd of people to get a beer. I can hardly breathe, and am in no mood to be yelled at by some tall, skinny, bi-speckled geek, but he continues to shout directly into my ear. Read More »