[Every week, CC and John will bring you some of the weirdest, funniest, saddest things he hears on his college campus. Join the Overheard revolution! Leave your own overheard convos in the comments.]Four guys talking over Saturday breakfast:

One guy: “Man, I’m f—ing hungry. I’m gonna slam so much sausage into my mouth.”

Second guy: “Yeah, dude. You do that.”

After a pause:

First guy: “What did I say?”

“RuPaul, singing Little Drummer Boy, on a 45? Worst record ever.”

“I made them a nipple-straw.” Read More »

Everyone knows the ONE GOLDEN RULE when it comes to best friends that are guys: DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE, SLEEP WITH THEM.

After a few drinking games and too many shots of tequila it would have taken a bold letter tattoo of “the golden rule” tattooed straight on my FACE in order to obey it. Tequila makes rules exempt and makes best guy friends the perfect lay. Until the next day…

My best friend was like my brother (insert disgusted face here). He knew everything about me, the guys I dated, my bad habits, my snarky attitude and what I looked like with no make up and how red my zits could get. We would stay up late playing poker and card games, or searching for an ice cream place that was open past midnight and if they weren’t he’d stop and buy me my favorite mint chocolate chip at the grocery store. We had inside jokes and I made fun of his blonde girlfriends and he made fun of my skinny emo boyfriends. We were each other’s exact opposite of who we were typically attracted to.

The first time we slept together the sexual tension was palpable. One day we were speaking to each other doing Anchorman impressions and the next day we were — wildly attracted to each other (blame it on the inebriation). We were so attracted, in fact, that we managed to have sex with Ong Bak The Thai Warrior playing on the screen in the background.

…Nothing like kung fu to get you going. Read More »

Some people skydive. Some turn to religion.

I changed my hair.

This habit started approximately two years ago when I was struggling with the worst of college relationships—the pseudo-boyfriend. You know him: you two keep it “chill,” hang out and hook up without the constraint of a title, and you can’t get jealous with any real justification, because you agreed on the untitled title.

This PBF had a tendency to keep his exes around (those who made the cut to fill the actual girlfriend position) and answer their calls at all hours. Including 4:00 in the morning, while sleeping next to me.

Bear in mind that my hair was long for over twenty years. We’re talking perfectly straight, volumeless blonde hair to my waist that guys beg you to keep. Hair that you can’t get back. Knowing this, I walked into the salon and firmly told my stylist what needed to be done.

“Chop it.”

I think she almost cried.

The PBF pretended not to notice that I had parted with over six inches. After that, I used it as a metaphor for cutting him out of my life.

After living as an almost-adult for a few months, I felt the need to commemorate my transition period. I noticed one day that my roots were coming in, and it hit me. Bye bye, blondie. I needed to go dark. Read More »