"Mom! Can you bring me some ice cream??"

It’s your last class of the week and it’s creeping by even more slowly than usual. You flip through your stack of Power Point slides. Twelve pages to go and only twenty minutes left in the class. There’s no way you’ll get out of here on time thanks to that ass in the front row who raises his hand every 3 minutes.

You aren’t paying much attention to the prof (why should you? You’ve got the entire lecture printed out in front of you) and instead are counting down the minutes until you’re back home for the weekend eating your mom’s famous burgers and showering without flip flops.

Class finally ends and you run back to the dorm. You only have an hour to pack before you need to hit the road. You dig your suitcase out from under your bed (“That’s where my round brush went!”) and throw it open. You don’t need a lot for your two day retreat; you don’t plan on doing much besides lay around on your parents’ couch and raid the pantry. You toss in a few pairs of sweats, one nice outfit (because your mom has made it clear that she didn’t buy you all those nice jeans to have them sit in the closet) and some very basic toiletries. You’ll just use mom’s shampoo/ conditioner/ hair dryer/ makeup… if the need arises.

There is still plenty of room left in your bag so you drag your laundry bag out of your closet and start filling up the suitcase with your dirties. You’re sure your mother’s empty-nest syndrome will be alleviated with a few loads of your laundry. And if nothing else, at least you’ll be able to do it for free.

Once your bag is zipped – which required a lot of pushing and a gallon of sweat – you change into something that won’t leave your mom yelling at you for looking like a hobo, dab on a little makeup, throw the necessary books/laptop into your messenger bag and head out. Read More »

You’re at a house party or a bar… or in line to get into a house party or bar. It doesn’t matter. Wherever you are, you’ve just spotted a very handsome boy and you want to talk to him. You turn to your friends and point him out.

“OMG, girl, he IS hot. Go to him,” they say. Then you spend the next 5 minutes debating the best conversation starter/reapplying lip gloss/yanking your shirt down a wee bit lower to show off the girls. When everything is in order (“Do I have anything in my teeth??” you ask your friends as you flash a big, toothy smile), you move in.

Due to some extreme Power Houring before leaving the house, your friends are feeling rather rambunctious. As you make your way to get a drink, they shove you into the boy. Not part of the carefully laid out plan, but that move has been known to work wonders in the past. Read More »

So you met a boy. A perfect boy. A boy who loves True Life marathons and Frosted Mini Wheats as much as you do. A boy who kissed you on the cheek after walking you home and took your number (instead of drunk-friending you on Facebook). You totally heart him.

After coming in the house and telling your roommates all about how sweet and funny and “OMG he was wearing the hottest jeans,” you lay in bed thinking about him. And make a mental note to get a bikini wax ASAP, because you will most definitely be seeing him (in the buff) sometime soon.

You spend the next day clutching your phone, willing it to ring. You take it to the library, the gym and even into the bathroom. You jump every time the phone rings and mentally prepare yourself to turn on the charm, only to realize it’s a friend or, of course, your mom. Finally, you receive a text message:

Hungover in the library. Not fun Read More »

You’re in a sweaty basement playing beer pong. You and your partner – who you happened to pick up next to the keg – have finally been taken down. You chug the final four beers from the other side of the table and let the next team take their spots.

For the rest of the evening, you and cutie partner boy tell the tales of an awesome game…while rubbing each other’s backs and making flirty/inappropriate comments between beers. Before you know it, you’re outside on the driveway eating his face like he’s a giant slice of late night pizza. (Mmm, pizza.)

“Wanna go somewhere?” He asks.

“Obvi,” you answer as he’s grabbing your hand and leading you back to his place. You stumble down the street, making out at every stop sign and red light you encounter.  Soon you are back at his dorm which, thankfully, is a single. Also a single? His bed. Read More »

Your hair is done, your makeup is on and you’re outfit is perfect. All you have to do is pack that wristlet and you’re ready to head out with your friends. Money? Check. ID? Check. Camera? Check.

Before you leave, you mix a few drinks and have a mini dance party with the girls. Two rum and Diets and a few old school Britney songs later, it’s time to head out. But not without a “SELFIE!!”

You gather the girls around, make your sexy face, stick that arm out and capture the moment.

“Let me see!” your friends shriek.
“Ew. I have a double chin. One more!” So you take one more.
“Cuuuute!” everyone agrees. You put the camera back in your bag and head off to the bars. Read More »

Your closet door won’t close around the bulging mass that is your laundry basket. The same basket that you have been rifling through for the past week to find something that isn’t too dirty to wear to class. This morning, as you stand in a towel that belongs to your roommate, you reach in and pull out a t-shirt. You sniff it and decide that with a few sprays of Burberry Brit, you can get by.

But the t-shirt sitch seems to be the least of your problems. As you open your underwear drawer you discover that just like your sock drawer, your tank drawer, and your jeans drawer, you are running on empty. Yes, even though you bought 35 pairs of underwear so you could do your laundry only once a month.

You are left with two choices: going commando and risking a Britney situation, or pulling on some bikini bottoms and risking a major wedgie day. (There is also choice #3 – wearing a pair of undies inside-out – but that is only for extreme circumstances… like living in the jungle.) Begrudgingly, you opt for #2, but only because #1 would mean you’d have to wash that last pair of sweats at the end of the day, leaving you with literally nothing to wear to the laundry room. Read More »

You finished your last exam early and, after waiting for someone else to turn theirs in first (you don’t want to be first!), ran down the steps of that lecture hall, slammed that baby on the desk and skipped your way to freedom.  As you walk home you notice how great the air smells, how bright the sun is and how beautiful your campus is. School is out and you are feelin’ groovy.

After regaling your roommates with tales from your 90 minute essay exam (“I totally rocked that shiz!”), you head to your room to start the end-of-the-year cleaning session. You grab a garbage bag, sit down at your desk and start sifting through the piles of papers, books and notebooks that litter your desk.

In the back of your mind, you know that some of those notebooks will come in handy for next year’s classes. In the front of your mind, though, you know you will never look at them ever again. So, in a celebratory fashion, you toss one binder after another into the Hefty. Read More »

[Every week, CC and John 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 or send ‘em over!]

(At a Starbucks.)

Girl: So this is the only gin joint in town, huh?

Barista: No. This is a Starbucks.

(Two guys on move-out day, carrying cases of beer.)

Guy 1: Man, we’re gonna fill up an entire recycling bin.

RA, poking head out of room: Excuse me?

Guy 2: No, don’t worry, it’s okay. These are full of urine.

(Guy, in a bookstore cafe.)

Guy: Agh, this isn’t iced coffee. This is … nice coffee. And by that I mean not-nice coffee. Read More »

The car has been packed, your roommates have been hugged and you’re only a short car ride away from a summer at home. Your parents try and talk strike up conversation on the way (“So, honey, how did that last exam go?”), but you just want to sit in the backseat and flip through your pictures from the last week in silence.

Too bad looking at the camera makes you want to barf. So you shut your eyes and lay your head on the clothes piled up next to you and go to sleep.

Soon you are back in your childhood bedroom. It’s weird climbing back into that twin (non extra long) bed and staring at pictures of your high school friends you haven’t talked to in months adorning the walls. It’s weird not having to use a key to unlock the bathroom down the hall. Hell, it’s weird to pee alone. Being home is just weird.

All you want to do it lay down and relax – the last week of studying and partying has taken its toll on you – but the moment you do, you hear an all-too-familiar call. Read More »

Mmmm. Mysterious dark spots on the floor.

You wake up with one thing on your mind and one thing only: water. You want to drink it, you want to bathe in it, you want to take advantage of all of its healing powers. You stumble out of your room and head to the kitchen. When you take one step out the door, however, you realize this is a mission you cannot accomplish without shoes.

Thanks to last night’s party, your house is a disaster. There are empty beer cans everywhere, the floor is soaked with beer, and for some reason there is an empty jar of pizza sauce on the floor and marinara hand prints all over the kitchen walls. And [vomit] the smell. Gross.

You dig a pair of flip flops out from under a pile of dirty clothes and head to the oasis that is your Brita in the fridge. You tear the duct tape off of the cabinet (because obviously duct tape will prevent drunk people from rifling through your things) and grab a cup. As you chug your 3rd glass of that sweet nectar from the gods, your roommates, also wearing shoes, start trickling into the kitchen. Read More »