"She's gonna get fat."

As college students, we are constantly inundated with new knowledge. It can be useful, thought-provoking, or crammed into our head on a Starbucks-fueled binge several hours before an exam. However, very rarely do we question the validity of all this new knowledge (unless you take philosophy classes, then you’ll question away).

That’s where College Candy comes in. We’re not going to debate whether or not the Theory of Relativity actually exists (a disappointment, I know, but I’m a communications major and stopped taking science classes after Baby Bio fresh year). However, we are here to thoroughly investigate the most widespread college knowledge (no, not rhyming): the myth.

Alright guys, I’m gonna level with you: I’m a big fan of the brewskies. I like Sam Adams Pumpkin Ale, Sweetwater 420, the occasional stein of Newcastle, and the slightly more frequent funnel full of Bud Light. I particularly like that I can drink copious amounts of beer without the consequences that would come from drinking the same amount of vodka, water & lime. Most of all, I like that beer lends itself easily to day-drinking.

What I don’t like about beer (besides how much it makes me want to sing drinking songs) is that it makes me fat.

It’s not even the eventual, slowly-creeping-towards-your-thighs fat. It’s like an immediate, “I’m so carbonated and delicious and I’m going to make you so full you can’t suck in anymore” variety of fat. So it’s no wonder that beer contributes majorly to the Freshman 15, right? Ehh, yes and no.

The typical 12 ounce beer has around 150 calories. So obviously, each one you drink adds to your bottom line of calorie intake. The more calories you consume without burning them off, the more weight you’re gonna gain (I know, it’s all very scientific). But if you carefully measure out your Stairmaster time to counteract the beer pong tournament you plan on winning later and you’re still gaining weight, it might not be Natty Light’s fault.

A strange thing happens when I drink beer. Come the end of the party/night/gameday/Happy Hour, I feel this strange magnetic force pulling me in the direction of anywhere that serves cheese fries. I’m not the only one, right?  Ok, good.

Beer, while awesome, still has alcohol in it (actually I’m pretty sure that’s what makes it awesome). Alcohol has this sneaky, two pronged approach to weight gain. In and of itself, it’s a highly caloric waste of nutritional value. On top of that, it lowers inhibitions. So not only are you more likely to make out with that guy who dressed up as a Smurf for Halloween (my best friend is still trying to get the blue body paint off of her sheets), you’re more likely to think that a Big Mac is totally worth blowing your day of careful eating and yoga. And it might not stop at the Big Mac, because we all know McDonald’s is a gateway drug to pizza and Lucky Charms.

So, while beer will make you gain weight (without exercise and self-control), another often-overlooked aspect of weight gain is beer’s BFF, Drunk Eating. The best way to avoid gaining a beer gut that isn’t even beer? Don’t stock your fridge with unhealthy crap, keep snacks in pre-portioned containers or bags, and for the love of all that is holy do not ask the cab driver to stop at Taco Bell on the way home! Instead, eat a good dinner with complex carbs and protein on nights you know you’re goin’ out big. Good judgment before 5 rounds of flip cup might just ensure better judgment after you are dubbed queen of the first try flip.

That’s where College Candy comes in. We’re not going to debate whether or not the Theory of Relativity actually exists (a disappointment, I know, but I’m a communications major and stopped taking science classes after Baby Bio fresh year). However, we are here to thoroughly investigate the most widespread college knowledge (no, not rhyming)—the myth.

So we’ve all heard this particularly morbid myth (no, not any of the ones from Urban Legends—although Brenda was a bad-ass scary killer) about one surefire, if not tragic, way to snag a 4.0. The general myth goes a little something like this: If your roommate dies, you automatically achieve a 4.0 average for the semester.

There are a ton of variations to this myth; if you weren’t in the room at the time of death, you only get a 3.5 (sorry, not traumatized enough!). Or if you have more than one roommate, you’re not all going to get the golden 4.0 (they don’t want to run out of perfect GPA’s, I guess?). And, of course—you can’t kill your roomie for the express purposes of getting a 4.0 (killing her for ruining the suede clutch you lent her, now that’s another story).

As it turns out, however, there is (surprise!) no such rule on any campus in the United States of A. You may have heard it repeatedly since you were a freshman, you might have a lab partner who will swear on a stack of Bibles that it happened to his 2^nd cousin at Ole Miss, hell your parents might even still believe this myth, but it is one million percent fictional.

First of all, as Snopes points out when it lists the different variations of the rumor, there are way too many provisions that would need to be established to ensure that all 4.0’s were given to the bereaved fairly (unfairly?). What if you were home, but they died in the living room? What if you were out of town at the actual time of death, but you found the body? What if you were out shacking and came home to crime scene tape across your door?

Then of course, administration would have to deal with helicopter parents who wanted to ensure that their children received the GPA they “earned” (via their roommate’s death). who’d do anything to get a Harvard Law-worthy GPA.

The bottom line is, this myth is completely and undeniably false. If you really don’t believe me (I know, that lab partner was pretty effing convincing) read through your entire student handbook and find this policy. Chances are you’ll read only about the grief counseling and other services offered to traumatized students (those services aren’t going to be of the “Here’s straight A’s” variety). If I’m wrong, I will come to your school and go streaking across the quad. But if I’m right (and I am) you’ll have to come to Tallahassee and do the same. Trust.

As college students, we are constantly inundated with new knowledge. It can be useful, thought-provoking, or crammed into our head on a Starbucks-fueled binge several hours before an exam. However, very rarely do we question the validity of all this new knowledge (unless you take philosophy classes, then you’ll question away).

That’s where College Candy comes in. We’re not going to debate whether or not the Theory of Relativity actually exists (a disappointment, I know, but I’m a communications major and stopped taking science classes after Baby Bio fresh year). However, we are here to thoroughly investigate the most widespread college knowledge (no, not rhyming)—the myth.

We’ve all been there. It’s 9:04 am on a chilly Wednesday. We’re regretting our decision to pass on Starbucks (and especially regretting the decision to have a “practice” beer pong tournament with the roomies last night). We’re drumming our fingers on our desks, thinking of our still warm beds, wondering if our professor is going to show (and praying that she doesn’t).

Ok, now it’s 9:05, only 15 more minutes (10 if we’re waiting for a T.A.). If Dr. So-and-So still hasn’t shown, we are free and clear to peace out and crawl right back into bed. It’s the golden rule of classes- if your prof is x-amount of minutes late, class is automatically canceled, and the students who waited so—ahem—patiently, will suffer no penalty.

I remember the first magical time this happened to me. I was a nervous freshman, bundled up in my Hollister jean jacket, listening to the agitated upperclassmen counting down to 15 minutes around me. When our T.A. still hadn’t shown, they simultaneously dipped out, and one sophomore took pity on me enough to explain that I, too, should leave. “It’s like, on the campus website as an official rule,” she’d told me. From that day forward, even the slightest offense of tardiness starts me on an internal countdown.

But am I right? Yes and no. Most schools (including mine) won’t waste precious ink in the student handbook to specify such a rule. An official at University of South Florida agrees: “ I have never seen a written policy on this question.   I’ve heard the rumor about waiting 15 minutes for a prof with a masters, 30 minutes for a PhD….but I have never been able to locate a formal policy.  (And if I were a student, I would be sure to be the last one to leave, however long the rest of them waited).”

According to Snopes though, some schools do specify the elusive waiting period. At Clemson, it’s a required component of every class syllabus. However, the differentiation between T.A. wait time and professor wait time is pretty nonexistent. While fully accredited professors do enjoy more benefits than their assistants, they don’t automatically earn an extra 5 minutes of students’ time (when they’re late to class.)

So how to deal with this dilemma? When in doubt, check your syllabus, if there’s nothing in there about a “wait” policy it’s up to you whether you sit there for 15 minutes or the entirety of the class period (or just see what your classmates think). But unless you can find a specific rule in your student handbook, this myth is most likely false at your institution of higher learning. As for me, I’ll continue to interpret my professors’ lateness as a perfect excuse for me to skip class (although I normally don’t have any trouble coming up with them on my own).

What would you do? Have you ever had a professor explain their “late-wait policy”?

As college students, we are constantly inundated with new knowledge. It can be useful, thought-provoking, or crammed into our head on a Starbucks-fueled binge several hours before an exam. However, very rarely do we question the validity of all this new knowledge (unless you take philosophy classes, then you’ll question away).

That’s where College Candy comes in. We’re not going to debate whether or not the Theory of Relativity actually exists (a disappointment, I know, but I’m a communications major and stopped taking science classes after Baby Bio fresh year). However, we are here to thoroughly investigate the most widespread college knowledge (no, not rhyming): the myth.

This week, I’ve been busy with preparations for my 21^st birthday party on Saturday (FINALLY). Amidst trying to find a free party bus and a hot pink dress right after everyone’s Fall colors came out, I began to stress about the optimal level of intoxication I’m aiming for (somewhere in between taking over the DJ booth and being escorted out of the club). I don’t want to be too drunk, but I know I’ll be surrounded by people trying very hard to get me very wasted. I thought to myself, “Well, I’ll start with a few rounds of shots, then downgrade to flip cup and beer pong to mellow myself out.”

There it is, the golden rule. Liquor before beer and you’re in the clear! The thing is, I know this isn’t true, I knew on my 16^th birthday that this “rule” was BS. The amount of alcohol you drink—not the type and not the order in which you drink it—determines how drunk you get.

But how has this myth persisted for so long if so much scientific evidence proves it’s false? Well, for me at least, personal experience holds much more weight than whatever the people in lab coats have to say. And my personal experience has taught me that beer before liquor almost always leaves me sicker. So why the huge disagreement between the scientists and the drunk people? Let’s examine this logically.

If you start the night out with a shot and a few mixed drinks, you’re well aware that you need to pace yourself (most of the time). You space out your Long Island Iced Teas evenly, or perhaps drink water in between them (OK, I’ve never actually done that). Once the bottles run out, you mosey on over to the keg to enjoy some quality Natty Lite. You continue drinking at the same rate you were before, and spend the rest of the night being witty and charming before making out with that hot lacrosse player you beat at beer pong.

But what if that equation were reversed? Science tells us that you and the lacrosse player still would have been good to go, seeing as how your 12 oz. beer contains the same amount as your 1.5 oz. shot of liquor. Unfortunately for you, the liquor is absorbed much more quickly than the beer (especially if it’s mixed with anything carbonated).

So if you start out filling up your Solo cup every 5 minutes with beer, you’ll probably continue that pace when you switch to mixed drinks…and end up drinking way too much, way too fast. Goodbye #42; the only thing you’ll be kissing tonight is your toilet.

Come Saturday, I will feel free to accept shots from various people at any point in the evening, regardless of how many keg stands I may or may not have already done. The key to my new drinking plan? Have my mom help me keep track of how much I’ve drank (yeah, she’s comin’ to the party!) and switch to water for a while if I feel myself crashing and burning.

The liquor before beer myth is definitely, definitely false, so drink away and in any order (just pace yourself!).

That’s where College Candy comes in. We’re not going to debate whether or not the Theory of Relativity actually exists (a disappointment, I know, but I’m a communications major and stopped taking science classes after Baby Bio fresh year). However, we are here to thoroughly investigate the most widespread college knowledge (no, not rhyming)—the myth.

One of the most well known and deeply feared college myths are three little words: breaking the seal. As defined by the most elite source of definitions, Urban Dictionary, breaking the seal is “The point at which you first piss after you have been drinking your favorite alcoholic beverage and at this point you will be pissing every ten minutes.”

We’ve all been there. Enjoying a lively round (or 6) of flip cup when all of a sudden, your bladder reminds you that it has a maximum capacity. You try to discreetly excuse yourself to visit the ladies room, but your concerned besties remind you—very loudly—that you can’t break the seal!

So this seal we all desperately protect, does it actually exist? Or is it possible that it’s simply an alcohol-fueled figment of our imagination? I’ve enlisted a panel of urological experts (read: my boyfriend in med school and Google) to figure out if this phenomenon is real.

Apparently, the more jello shots, Natty Lite or vodka tonics you consume, the higher your Blood Alcohol Level (I know, who’d have thunk?) Anywho, all that warm and fuzzy ethanol flooding your system affects certain hormones that your brain produces, like the must “dance now” and “sexy-time” hormones, as well as a hormone called ADH (an anti-diuretic hormone), which helps your body retain water by controlling the amount of urine you make.

Alcohol inhibits ADH, so the more you drink, the more you’ll have to pee. Also, in case you never caught on, alcohol is usually a liquid, and the more liquid you intake, the more you will expel. Breaking the seal has nothing to do with the amount that you’re gonna pee afterward, nor how often nature will call. And if you don’t “break the seal” you will still feel a need to pee anyway, so it’s all sorta the same thing, right?

I know it’s heartbreaking to realize that there is no magical seal built by your first 5 beers, but on the bright side, you won’t feel a twinge of guilt if you decide not to risk a UTI by holding out.

So, the moral of the story is that if you gotta go, you gotta go! Don’t bother holding it, because the more you drink, the more urine your body will produce, and the more frequent your bathroom excursions will be. The best advice I can give you is to re-fill your cup before waiting in line for the bathroom. You won’t waste precious binge-drinking minutes and once you reach the bathroom you’ll kill two birds with one stone. Cheers!