Speaking for myself, the past 2 months of blissful relaxation have been more or less bitchin, and the thought of buying textbooks and attending freshman seminars feels like a dagger to the heart. I’d rather not waste my last few weeks with my darling high school summer friends just bumming around and drowning my sorrows in queso dip, so in between buying dorm room supplies and re-reading all the Harry Potter books, I’ve been looking for ways to truly relish these memorable last days:

I’ve had a Toast Night: I decorated my backyard with paper lanterns, candles and tons of Christmas lights and invited about 12 friends over to be merry and toast the past years of our lives, the wonderful summer and our hazy futures. It was the perfect balance of totally precious and disgustingly cheesy, something we all needed to commemorate 12 years of schooling… and an occasion to drink outside.

I’ve been soaking in the sun: I don’t know if it’s just me, or if it’s everyone, but I aspire to arrive at college the shade of a well-toasted marshmallow. This is the last span of time to get natural sun and Vitamin D (which we all lack come wintertime) and a perfect excuse to lounge around the pool and gossip and hang with your pals. Just make sure you slather on some SPF.

I’ve been going to any bonfires I happen to come across: Bonfires are the epitome of the end of summer. They’re so chill and usually the guest lists are varied, so you get a chance to wrap up loose ends, recount some good memories with random acquaintances and perhaps cuddle up with the boy you’ve been texting all summer long and will probably never see again once you skip town.

I’ve been eating out less and eating at home more: Not gonna lie, I’ll probably miss my mom’s cooking before I miss my mom. So in order to prepare, I’m stuffing my face now.

I’ve been spending less time on Facebook: Instead of chatting my friends (or stalking them via Newsfeed), I’ve been hanging out with them, taking walks with them, hugging them. Pretty crazy, right? It makes things way more special, plus you’ll probably burn more calories, which helps you achieve that bangin’ bod in time for school.

Win/win.

The end of summer has potential to be so stellar; what have you been doing to celebrate it?

However, I decided that I would not let the rest of the summer go to waste.  I’m going to take stock of all the things I was excited about before the summer began and make sure I do them before I go back to my dungeon dorm room.

Eat A Lot of Free Food – My mom loves to cook for me whenever I’m home.  I don’t have to say anything more than, “I think I’m coming up to visit on Saturday” and she’ll have already bought the ingredients for my favorite meals.  Things like eggs benedict, home-made macaroni and cheese (with six kinds of cheese!! mmm), cherry roasted baby-back ribs and so much more are thrown at me (not literally, although I fully support food fights) from the moment I step out of my car.  Plus, a plate of brownies or cookies that seem to fall into my hands at random times.  Yes, I’ll leave fit to burst and probably need a couple days to sleep off the food coma, but it’s so worth it.  Just thinking about a whole semester of dorm food and ramen noodles makes me wanna go home right now…

Do Nothing All Day – Summer is all about doing nothing.  At least, the idea of summer is about doing nothing. The reality is closer to what happens during the school year, but sweatier.  Before you get to campus and have a class schedule (and work schedule and group meetings and whatnot), take a day to do nothing.  Literally nothing.  You can sit outside with an iced tea, take a nap (preferably in a hammock – that’s very summery), or just sit.  Sound like a waste of time?  It is.  A glorious, relaxing waste of time.

Go To The Beach -  Perhaps the epitome of a summer scene is someone laying on a towel on a gorgeous, sunny beach.  This is what I salivate over when I’m walking to class at 7am in the pitch dark, fighting four foot mounds of snow.  If I wanted to go to the beach while I’m at school, there would be a significant drive involved and probably some studying on the beach (nooooooo!).  However, during the summer you have all day!  Just throw on your suit (you worked hard for that bikini body, girl), grab a cooler full of frosty deliciousness and head on out.  Nothing simpler or more rewarding (ahhh golden tan).  Just don’t overdo it…you don’t want to head off to campus and have people snicker and point at you while muttering something about oompa loompas.

Go Camping – I’m sad to say that I don’t go camping very much.  Every summer I think about it and discuss half-buzzed plans with my friends involving a campsite that probably doesn’t exist anymore and five coolers full of mostly beverages.  This summer, however, I’m actually going to do it.  This may or may not have anything to do with the fact that I’m going to be homeless for about 9 days before I can move into my dorm room at the end of the month.  At any rate, a tent will probably have more space than your dorm room.

Have a Bonfire – This is something that you definitely have to organize before you hit campus (mostly because there are no fires allowed on campus…trust me, I’ve asked around).  This will also be a great way to gather up your besties and have a night to reminisce about all your summer adventures (adventures = that night you lost one shoe and left your bra at the bar).  What with the amounts of alcohol, s’mores, hot dogs, and other things that are super unhealthy for you, a bonfire will be an amazing way to relax before you are stuck in class dreaming of a day without studying.

Though I can’t wait to get a little bit of color on my nearly-clear skin, I have to admit, I’m going to miss slipping on my Uggs to mask the fact that I haven’t shaved my legs in three days. But don’t worry- there are some traditions that can still be year-round phenomena.

Just because the snow melted…

…doesn’t mean you need to bare your bod. This is both a pro and a con. You shouldn’t feel the need to be uncomfortable in class because you’re afraid your girls are going to fall out of your hot new halter, but there are a lot of girls on campus who think that sunshine is synonymous with show-us-your-skin. If you’re dreading putting your jiggly triceps on display (I know I am), don’t worry; buy a lightweight cotton three-quarter-length tee and you’ll still be okay. And if you’re the girl who hopes the groundhog doesn’t see its shadow because you’re aching to stop wearing pants, remember: leggings alone are not permissible bottoms.

…doesn’t mean you need an excuse to stay warm. It’s easy to stay in bed and cuddle up with your boyfriend because you don’t want to bear the cold. But who says that summer is going to take away from the romance-factor? If you’ve spent the winter by the fireside, now’s the time to get creative with your man. If you thought the crisp, white, snow-filled countryside was romantic, just wait until your first bonfire snuggle.

…doesn’t mean you have to cease “staying in.” When the temperature suggests that trekking to the bar will also insinuate six-inch icicles hanging from your nostrils, it’s easy to make staying in an excuse. But just because you can finally wear a tube top and not pay for a coat check, it doesn’t mean you need to hit up the bar scene immediately. For one, intimate dorm parties and movie nights are still hella fun. For two, you’ll still save money. And finally, exams are right around the corner. If you’re having fun without an open bar night, why fix what’s not broken?

Writer’s note: as I’m writing this column, my roommate’s boyfriend just pulled himself away from the Nora Roberts Trilogy on Lifetime with the following advice:

…doesn’t mean you won’t fall on your ass. Not necessarily something you WANT to salvage from the fleeting winter, but be warned. Just because it’s not icy out, it doesn’t mean you can skip around campus in heels and not worry about slipping, sliding, and face-planting right in front of your quad. Be careful, folks!

…doesn’t mean you can’t partake in winter sports. Um hello? Ski bunny? Take up water skiing. Figure skater? Go to your closest roller rink. Hockey player? Roller hockey in your driveway, obvi. Besides, there are way more summer sports that you can still participate in. On the plus side? If you’ve been cooped up in an indoor pool all winter, you can look forward to the open water in just a couple more weeks.

Writer’s note: My roommate’s boyfriend just interjected yet again, yelling, “Doesn’t mean you can’t still have snowball fights!” He was trying to be funny, but then we had a moment where we both simultaneously realized the rather disturbing sexual innuendos connected to that assertion. I think I will close here and let you readers share what winter activities you’ll be keeping up through August…

Take advantage of the cool fall nights– they are more fun (and can be more romantic) than you think!

Have a bonfire

Summer bonfires make you sweat. Fall bonfires keep you warm without overheating. It’s the perfect time to gather your friends, cozy up around some flames, and reminisce about the “good old days”– like the time you got so drunk you passed out in your dorm stairwell (which may have been last weekend). If you’re still in the creepy Halloween mood, you can pull a “Summer Camp” and recite urban legends under the moon, or you can pass around a couple of forties and see where the story-telling gets you. Bonfires are a great way to set the mood in a group setting, so if you’ve been feeling shy around someone special, it’s the perfect opportunity to initiate something.

Go on a Hayride

Nothing screams “Autumn” like sitting on a bale of hay and being taken around a farm on a horse-drawn wagon. After being cooped up in stuffy lecture halls all day, a hayride is literally a breath of fresh air. If you’re feeling stressed from school, go on a clear night, sit back, relax, and be one with nature… and the twenty other people crammed into the cart! Besides, sharing a bale of hay on a cool night with a guy is a great excuse to snuggle up. Got energy to burn? Try a corn maze instead!

Be Creative.

Make leaf rubbings. Make a scarecrow to scare creepy dudes away from your room. Carve a pumpkin. Trace your hand and make it a turkey. String some acorns, or make an apple doll. If you can’t think of things to make, call your mom and ask her what kind of junk you used to bring home from kindergarten art class. Recreate it, and see if you’ve gotten any better.

Play in Leaves.

In case you haven’t noticed, the things on this list are things you may have thought you’d outgrown since the autumn days of yesteryear. Think again. Life is short, and the days are getting shorter… put your inhibitions aside and jump in a pile of leaves on your way home from the dining hall. If you wait much longer, you’ll be forced to jump into snowbanks, and you might end up with frostbite or ice in your shirt. Note: If you play in leaves on your Friday stumble home from the bar, you may or may not be reported for domestic disturbance, so keep the noise down.

Eat. Everything.

Everything fall-related that is. I’m talking candy corn, pumpkin pie, caramel apples, popcorn balls– and wash it down with hot apple cider! You don’t need a fall holiday as an excuse to indulge in some of the season’s finest sweets and treats. Grab the girls and have a fall picnic on the quad– you won’t have to worry about summer’s pesky mosquitoes or the smell of citronella candles. Besides, you can multitask and eat these goodies while you engage in any of the above activities!

Mmmmm.

But this is GG, people. Chace Crawford sexcapades can hardly satisfy our thirst for smut clothed in Prada. Cut to Chuck, chardonnay in hand, on a beach with one…two…three insanely hot girls. Oh, Chuck Bass. You are what every sixteen-year-old boy should aspire to be before graduating high school.

First shocker of the episode: GG informs us that “Lonely Boy” Dan isn’t so lonely after all. It seems he has a new chick — wait, maybe two new girls? Can you spell R-E-B-O-U-N-D?

Of course, before our first commercial break, we need a love triangle, and some legit dramz. Send Chuck to meet Blair, looking sweet and dapper with roses in hand. Insert random new man (James), let Blair make steamy eye contact with Chuck and then shove her tongue down new guy’s throat. This is how it goes down for high schoolers in the Hamptons.

It’s game, set, match for Blair when she enjoys dinner with both James and Chuck, yet she still feels the need to run after Chuck when he storms away from the table with his tail between his legs. WTF Blair? We know you don’t feel the same way for James as you did for Nate. Otherwise you wouldn’t be chasing Chuck. Alas, poor Chuck, who used to be made of steel, turns on the waterworks again, just in time for another gratuitous Chace Crawford shot — hottie Nate running down the street in his underwear after his new lover’s husband comes home early from work.

The GG writers get to show off their wit as Blair vents to Serena. Line of the night: “Damn that mother-Chuck-er!.” No wait, Blair can top herself: “All I could see is that Chuck Bass-tard.” Oh, B. You’re killing me. Just hop in a limo and ride the boy for heaven’s sake. Or is that, like a pair of leggings, too last season?

Just before commercial break number three, everyone gets set up with their dates for this episode’s party, a shameless product placement in the form of the “Vitamin Water White Party.” The party scenes, of course, begin with a montage of beautiful people in white bikinis (drinking Vitamin Water), and an array of awkward looks (and Vitamin Water) as tension brews between Jenny and her bitch of a boss and Nate and his married mistress (who all drink Vitamin Water). Of course, if looks could kill, the death row sentence would be awarded to Chuck for his staredown of Blair and James.

But is Gossip Girl really becoming the Waldorf Show? In order to save the best juice for the last few minutes, it’s time to bring Dan back into the picture.

Until he showed up at S’s granny’s doorstep, I’d somewhat forgotten that Grandma Van der Woodsen used to have it out for Lonely Boy. Did anyone else’s jaw drop when Granny invited Dan to the party as her date? It’s too bad that Blake Lively looks absolutely gorgeous in her party ensemble, and that she and Chace Crawford would make the most beautiful babies, because I was rooting for some Serena/Nate action… until I remembered Dan, who happened to arrive just in time to see Serena fake-make-out with Nate. Dammit, Dan.

Typical Dan calls Serena out for her drama, only to have his two ladies from the opening credits show up and throw colorful martinis on his white suit. Could’ve seen that one coming. Yet, finding out that Dan is both hypocritical and some kind of playboy makes Serena want to rekindle the old flame. As Gossip Girl says, “When words get in the way, there’s only one thing to do…”

“MAKE OUT!” screamed my roommates and me, in unison. This late in the episode, and the only non-GG watcher in the room has to ask, “Are these people supposed to be in high school?” Um, yeah, don’t all high schoolers drink their faces off, have affairs with married women, and hump like gorillas on Versace sheets?

But back to the main event: Blair and Chucky. Obviously, Blair’s game of chess has to explode in her face, as James realizes he’s her pawn. But he can’t just leave after one episode! James makes his “big confession,” the one Chuck needed a PI to uncover. Drum roll, please….

He’s really Marcus Beaton, he’s British, and a lord. And he likes that Blair dissed him and called him boring. I could see a little S and M working it’s way into this relationship.

Well, if Chuck thought he’d uncover some dirt on James/Marcus, he was wrong. And he knows now that he doesn’t have sh*t on a British Lord. So he gives in, but not before he begs Blair not to leave with him. Blair makes the final offer: give her three words and eight letters (“I love you,” for those of you that missed it). And Chuck drops the ball.

What the Chuck?

Chuck and Blair have totally stolen the spotlight for this whole episode, and it seems the writers had a couple of minutes to spare at the end, so they give us Serena and Dan. On a beach. With a bonfire. And freaking fireworks start going off. Barf.

A lot of recapping of last season tonight, a few twists and turns, and a lot of potential drama set-ups for the rest of the season. But with the Chace Crawford hot-bod-shot count already climbing, I can tell that it’s going to be a great season.

I’ve seen a lot of drunken injuries in my day. Some are funny; some not so much. You really shouldn’t need to wear hard hats or protective armor to a party, so here’s a brief list of some potentially painful injuries, and how to avoid them.

Injury: Cigarette burns.

Avoid them by: Not drunkenly smoking your cigs all the way through the band; not giving someone with a lit cigarette your hand; not putting the wrong side of your lit cigarette into your mouth.

Injury: First, second, or third degree burns.

Avoid them by: Being conscious of where the bonfire pit is at a keg party on a cool autumn night; not attempting to walk through said pit in an effort to reunite with your friends after peeing in the woods.

Injury: Stitches on your scalp.

Avoid them by: Not jumping up and down on your lofted bed and cracking your head open on the ceiling; not falling out of a lofted bed after sloppy, drunken, sex, and cracking your head open on your f*ck buddy’s desk.

Injury: A shiner the color of an eggplant.

Avoid it by: Not chugging straight Bacardi and proceeding to faceplant your nightstand. These actions may or may not also have a negative effect on the nightstand, which may or may not break apart from the impact of your face.

Injury: Swollen, bruised kneecaps.

Avoid them by: Not attempting to do “the worm,” despite your complete lack of dance ability. Especially on concrete surfaces.

Injury: A cut-up upper lip.

Avoid it by: Not drinking from your beer bottle after all of your friends slammed their beer bottles on yours in an attempt to make the beer foam up and overflow; you never know if they chipped the bottle.

Injury: Sore [insert body part here]

Avoid them by: Not trying impossibly tricky, kinky new things while having sloppy, drunken sex. Sloppy, drunken sex can also sometimes lead to accidental penetration in places that no man has gone before.

Injury: Dislocated knee.

Avoid it by: Not dropping it like its hot with your guy friends at the bar when you already have a history of bad knees that dislocate easily.

Injury: A bruised ego and a crippled reputation.

Avoid it by: Knowing your limits and partying wisely. Once you’ve sobered up, all of the above are pretty embarrassing to have to explain to inquiring minds, and you don’t want people to think that you are the victim of domestic violence.

On a serious note, folks, alcohol-related accidents happen all the time on college campuses across the country. The National Household Survey on Drug Abuse and the Harvard College Alcohol survey reported that between 1998-2001, alcohol-related unintentional injury deaths increased about 6% among the college population, and during that period, over 500,000 students were unintentionally injured because of drinking, with over 600,000 students admitting to being hit or assaulted by another drunk student.

It’s all good to look back at last nights’ antics and laugh it off, but when weekend craziness goes too far, it can have extreme consequences. So keep yourself and your friends safe, designate a DD, and if you’re accident prone before you even crack your first beer, it may be in your best interest to invest in some protective gear.

From my personal experiences, summer flings can be quite delightful; you get to have three months of non-committed fun, living for the moment.

I spent three months one summer at the beach, where I met a cute, surfer boy who took me to every beach bonfire there was. During the days, we hung out on the beach, basking in the sun and getting to know each other – to a limited extent, as we both acknowledged what would happen at the end of August – and at night we spent time laughing, dancing and enjoying the moment, with an occasional make out or two. Wink. Wink.

At the end of the summer, we said our goodbyes, had our goodbye kiss and exchanged numbers, emails and addresses. I was content with the situation; I knew what we had was a temporary thing and I made peace with that before we even shared our first kiss. He lived in Arizona, I lived in New York; the time zone, let alone the 1,000+ miles between us made me aware of the impossibility of our “magic love” reunion. I think he expected water works; he wanted me to cry and get all mushy at the thought of losing him, but I tried to be adult about the situation. We had fun, but fun was all we’d ever have. We kept in touch for a little while, but eventually it faded to a “how are you” IM once in a while…and now, he’s just a faint memory of a summer well spent.

The best part about a summer fling is how great a time you can have with someone, as long as you are aware of what will happen at the end of the summer. Whether it’s a fun make-out buddy or a three month romp fest, you need to be aware of the consequences: a fling is exactly that, a fling, and if you fall, you will set yourself up to get hurt.

My suggestions ladies and gents is this: if you want a summer fling, be prepared for what it means to make out with or sleep with someone for three months and not wind up with the fairy tale ending. If you can handle that, then by all means, indulge yourself, and give us CC-ers some details while you’re at it.

Have any of you ever had a summer fling? Spill the deets!

So, 1 Sparks, 3 Stellas, 2 Jello shots, and 3 Jager shots later, Brent and I were having the most mind-blowing sex of my whole life. In the afternoon. His sheets smelled good and he had pictures of his family on his wall and his body (every last bit of it) was PERFECT. It was wild and hot and ridiculous and straight out of my fantasies.

Then I took a nap.

I woke up and Brent was having some friends over for a BBQ. He came into the room and closed the door behind him and smiled at me. (And this boy has dimples, so when he smiles, it’s like cute little daggers made of bunnies and rainbows are shooting through my heart.) He, dressed, came and laid down to me, naked, on the bed.

“Can you stay the night with me?” he asked.

Well, of course I f*cking could. I didn’t have a car to take me anywhere else, did I?

“If you want me to” I responded, with a smile; unlikely as cute as his.

“Good.” And he started kissing me. Sweetly — in the way that makes your heart stop. Not at all like the kind of kiss you’d imagine a boy would give a girl he just had circus-sex with.

He asked me to come out and meet his friends. I tied my hair up messily and didn’t even bother with makeup. Something about that post-greatest-sex-in-my-life glow makes makeup seem really unnecessary.

I sat on his lap and he held me while talking to all of his friends about how awesome I am and how randomly our paths had crossed that day. When the party began to die down, he took me by the hand over to his hammock. Tied to grapefruit trees and under the stars, we made out like we were being filmed as Zac and Vanessa for HSM4. That’s how cheesy it all felt.

We started talking about all of the “important” stuff. Ya know, god, sex, exes, existentialism, blah blah blah.

Brent turned to me, “How did I not know you were so awesome when I met you the first time? We’re so much alike. I wish you lived here. If you did, I would date you…like…every day. Don’t go home.”

I was enamored at the thought of having my week long trip turn into a hot romance. What can I say? I’m a girl.

Back in his room, we had even hotter sex than before. Then we cuddled and he fell asleep first, holding my hand. All through the night, he’d wake up to kiss me, and then fall asleep again. We woke up together eventually and had 3 more sex sessions.

“Do you want to build a bonfire on the beach tomorrow?” he asked me.

“Why not?” I responded.

“I don’t know…I just…I want to see you every day before you leave. Can we do that?” he said, while seeming more vulnerable than healthy.

“Okay,” and I smiled. Because…why wouldn’t I? He was gorgeous and nice and…he liked me.

When my friends came to pick me up on their way to the beach, he got dressed to come out and meet them. Naturally, they loved him. We spent the day at the beach talking about him and discussing how cute he was for wanting to build a bonfire. I was smitten.

And then I didn’t hear from him all day.

Or night.

Or all morning the next day.

Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday.

He never called.

I finally texted him, utterly disappointed in myself for having expected him to NOT treat me like dirt.

“Well, Bye.”

I never got a ‘Bye’ back.

Nothing.

So, now I’m angry.

What the f*ck? Why couldn’t he just have sex with me? Why all of the lovey-dovey talk? Why couldn’t he just straight up ignore me? Why all of the keeping-me-hanging banter?

I know it sounds crazy, but I would have been OK had he not planted the seed that there could be something more. But he did. And then he let me down.

I’m so frustrated. Is it as simple as I just got played?

But I’m young. And the fact that I’m eating cereal right out of the box because I can’t afford milk is just one of those side effects of trying to find yourself…right?

At least that’s what I thought. Until I went back to school this weekend (for the first of many weddings) and realized that everyone had gone and grown up while I was searching for pennies to pay for my coffee in New York.

It isn’t that I’m stuck back in my college days. In fact, I did quite the opposite after graduating. I moved further away (literally and figuratively) than anyone from home. But when I went back I realized that while I was still trying to find myself they had already done just that. With steady jobs, big rocks on their fingers, wedding planning and bed times.

My already confused and heartbroken self had just encountered one thing I had never planned on: my friends, all 23 and 24, were acting old.

Now I’m not saying that they were stiffs, we all drank and danced and had a really good time at the wedding. Sh*t, they even played Chubby Bunny by the bonfire (yes, there was a bonfire). But at the end of the night, when we got back to our hotel room, everyone was tired and wanted to go to bed…. at midnight.

And I was stuck on the floor with half a beer and some pistachios wondering what had happened to the girls that used to stay up half the night goofing off and talking and laughing until we cried or peed our pants or both.

Maybe it was the fact that I felt such a chasm between us. Me, up in New York a predictable mess and trying to find out what I want for myself. And them, down South, having everything figured out.

But it isn’t so much the geography that separates us but the ideals of what we want. I suppose I don’t want to have everything figured out right now because years later I want to know that I struggled and I searched and I understood where I was going before I got there.

I am happy for them that they have it all together and I am happy for me that I am just now starting to fall apart.

I know that this life, this unpredictable, messy, emotional life I am trying to sort out is the one I am supposed to be living. So maybe I am not grown up yet. But I’m looking forward to the years it takes me to become the grown up I am meant to be.