Turns out cat ladies are healthier than all of us

This kid’s fart is now national news

Dangerous beauty treatments

An affordable AND cute outfit!

How to build a business wardrobe

Awesome hair makeover contest

Check out the bag ALL the celebs have

A MUST LISTEN song

Pink is all for child abuse?

New Harry Potter footage!

We’ve all heard of crazy cat ladies, but crazy rat ladies? Yikes.

• Reasons you’re bloated

• Remember valley girls?

• 10 fashion lessons from horror movies

• Who are you calling crazy cat lady

• Moonwalk your way through Walmart (video)

• Would you wear this?

Jennifer Aniston’s getting a talk show.

Morehouse College bans sagging?

Which candy is the worst for ya?

I’ve heard of cat ladies, but a cat girl??

Things are getting worse for Lohan.

Disney princesses deconstructed.

I had him. And I pushed him away.

I moved to New York City for an internship a few months ago, completely unattached for the first time in what felt like forever. I was so happy to be living in one of the most exhilarating places on earth, independent and ready to have the best time of my life. I didn’t come to the city looking for anyone or anything, just to experience NYC in it’s fullest. I had no intention of dating. In fact, after the year I’d had, it was the last thing on my mind.

Of course, it’s always when you’re not looking that you find someone.

He was ideal in every way. Ivy league grad, held a great job, sweet, very athletic, great looking and he even liked decent music. Not to mention he took me out on real dates (not just guest swiping me into a dining hall), tried to kiss me in public, held my hand… he did everything right. Hell, he even extended his texting plan because I told him I preferred texting to phone calls.

But no matter what, I just couldn’t put my guard down. I flinched when he tried to kiss me in front of people and cringed when he started referring to us as “in a relationship.” I was still single on Facebook; didn’t that mean anything?

The more time we spent together, the further I pulled away. Maybe it was a function of our age difference, but I started to question if there was something wrong with me. I liked spending time with him and everything, but I wasn’t ready to be his girlfriend. After all the a-holes I’d been with who cheated on me, lied to me, used and under-appreciated me, you’d think I’d be jumping for joy for this guy. On the contrary, I was terrified. I didn’t and do not want a boyfriend and I’m not interested in experiencing committal at age 21. Words like “girlfriend” and “relationship” strike fear into my heart.

A few months of dating and he began to notice that I wasn’t breaking down and tried to convince me to be more “mushy.” I’m not mushy. I’m a sweet girl, I laugh and smile a lot. I love hugging people and I enjoy doing nice things. However, I’m far from romantic at this juncture in my life. Even the flowers he got me made me barf a little in my mouth.  He continued to refer to us being “in a relationship” and implying that we were boyfriend/girlfriend.

Finally, after realizing that I was simply leading this poor guy on, we had the talk. And it was weird. Not only because we did it at my favorite bar while sipping on overpriced martinis (that he paid for), but because it was total role reversal. I was telling him things that guys normally tell girls when they want them to stop being clingy or assume that they’re girlfriend material. I told him I wasn’t ready for a commitment, I wasn’t looking to be a girlfriend and I wanted to slow down and maybe make things on a more “as needed” basis. You know, the “we can still be friends…I’m emotionally challenged” speech. I’m sure you’ve heard it before, lord knows I have.

He said he wanted to think about it, that he wasn’t sure if a laid back thing was in his best interests. He left me a note in the morning on my bed (yes, I stupidly brought him home with me…) detailing that “dating without romance doesn’t come naturally to me” and that he was more interested in a relationship. Goodbye. Good luck. Etc.

And there I was, alone in my bed, totally confused.

Did I seriously just end things with an awesome guy just because he wanted to be romantic and be my boyfriend? Isn’t that what I’ve always wanted – someone who liked me and wasn’t afraid of showing it?

What’s wrong with me? How could I pass up something great? Am I shell-shocked from the ghost of relationships past? Am I destined to die completely alone (not even as a crazy cat lady because I just hate cats way too much)? Did I just pass on the last good guy on earth? And what do I do now?

How do I fix this?

No one's getting booty in this room. Trust.

It’s the Scout Motto: Always be prepared. But I don’t think my Girl Scout troop leader was referring to booty calls when she ingrained that piece of advice into my head.

On a college campus you never know who you’re going to meet… and then want to take back to your room… to get to know each other better. The last thing you want is to bring a suitor home one night and have them leave the next morning without their wallet because it’s lost in a sea of your dirty laundry (true story). Or worse, bring them home and have them remember they have “somewhere to be” (at 3 a.m.) after spotting your My Little Pony collection on your nightstand.

Being prepared for spontaneity may be an oxymoron, but it has safely guarded my dignity and late night encounters thus far. Here are a few life tips I have adapted in my quest to divide and conquer, without letting those boys see my Spanx.

Good Idea: Have some sexy lingerie out on the bed. There’s no reason your guy can’t be led to believe that you sleep in see-through nightgowns every night of the week. He can file that one away right alongside “girls never poop.”
Bad Idea: Procrastination and laundry are my two archenemies, but it’s simply never a good idea to have your dirty laundry sprawled across the floor, including the granny panties you’ve been wearing all week. Helpful tip: no one will see it when it’s stuffed at the bottom of your closet.

Good Idea: Having pictures of your friends displayed throughout your room.
Bad Idea: Having a framed picture of your dad holding a 12-gauge shotgun. Let’s be real. That’s not going to set the mood.

Good Idea: Candles may be banned in dorm rooms, but try your best to keep your room smelling nice. The scent of fresh laundry or perfume wafting through your room will keep your guy coming back for more. Or, at the very least, he won’t be repulsed by the aroma of old milk and mildew.
Bad Idea: Having three half-eaten boxes of pizza scattered around the room. Two-day old pepperoni has an unforgettable scent that is sure to make you gag upon catching a whiff. Moldy cheese is not an aphrodisiac – don’t forget that.

Good Idea: A freshly made bed with crisp sheets and fluffy pillows.
Bad Idea: A freshly made bed covered in 42 pillows shaped like cats.

Good Idea: Continual bikini line and leg hair maintenance.
Bad Idea: Not shaving from November to April to reduce your heating bill and still keep warm. He may love to stroke your hair, but not when it’s on your legs.

Good Idea: Having a copy of the Kama Sutra on your bookshelf amongst other notable books and novels. Impressive and sexy. Now he can love you for your brains and your sexual prowess.
Bad Idea: Asking him to read you a few chapters of Twilight before bed. It’s either that or a chapter from Sex for Dummies, which has a prominent place on your nightstand. Awkward.

Good Idea: Having a variety of condoms readily available to you.
Bad Idea: No matter what anyone says, neither saran wrap nor chicken skin is an acceptable form of birth control.

For all the crazy cat ladies out there – get fit!

Bret Michaels is a real martyr.

People really hate Chris Brown. Duh.

Will Ferrell can’t handle the Twitter heat.

Wow, Kate Gosselin really effed up this time.

1. I put on sweats, grab a blanket and settle in front of my couch for the day/night/month.
2. I eat a box of Oreos smothered in peanut butter.

Ok, I’ll be honest – I do both. And usually polish off the jar of pb with a spoon.

I used to think that those nights made me feel better because of the intense sugar rush all that quality programming (read: Food Network challenges) distracted me from my personal issues, but a new study is saying that watching TV actually cures loneliness.

According to a series of studies performed at the University at Buffalo and Miami University of Ohio, people feel personally connected to the characters they watch on TV, so much so that it is like they are actually a part of whatever is going on week after week. These “relationships” fulfill them (much like my Oreo/pb combo fulfills me) and their need for personal contact.

So, basically, my long stints in front of the TV take away my loneliness not because they are distracting me from it, but because I feel as if I am right there with Bobby Flay cooking up a 6 course meal with a crazy secret ingredient in 60 minutes. And we are totally BFF.

I can sorta see the truth in this – lord knows I talk about LC and Audrina like we are all living together and crushing on the Brodester – but it all seems so sad. Do people really think that they are part of Blair Waldorf’s latest scheme? Do they really stop questioning the fact that they have 9 cats and a crazy knitting hobby because they feel so close to Pam and Jim on The Office?

And maybe people wouldn’t be so lonely if they LEFT THE HOUSE ONCE IN AWHILE INSTEAD OF SITTING HOME AND WATCHING TV. (Caps were used to emphasize my point…to myself.)

Oh well. At least I know I don’t need the 4,327 calorie snack I’ve been downing to get over the lonely blues. One episode of Ace of Cakes should do the trick.

I know what I’m asking for this Christmas! Lord knows I need some practice before my real cat lady days set in. Sigh.

And it scares the crap out of us.

But now we realize that crazy cat ladies have nothing on a new breed of wackadoodle: fake baby lovers.

These crazies have been all over the news lately after a recent BBC documentary aired. Basically, these women buy real-looking baby dolls and treat them like they are real. They put them in car seats, buy them cribs and take them places like a real FREAKING CHILD.

Only they are not real. They are dolls.

And these women are nuts. Just watch that video. You will never look at Cabbage Patch Kids the same way again.

The good news to come from all this is that maybe we can all buy cats now without fear of that slippery slope into spinsterhood. The bad news is that I have to rid my apartment of any and all stuffed animals out of terror that I may become a crazy fake baby lady if I don’t get a boyfriend soon.