When the almighty Facebook was first created, it was intended to be a network devoted to fostering connections with future classmates (and friends) at your future school. Fast forward a few years and Facebook is a melting pot for parents, preteens, companies, celebrities and anything else you can imagine Facebook connecting you to.

Remember when MySpace was cool?  Well, as is often said around the office: MySpace is the poor man’s Facebook. Or if that doesn’t work for you, how about this: MySpace is the pedophile’s Facebook. You might prefer one to the other but both get an A for being equally acceptable judgments. Although MySpace might take the cake for the invention of the duck-beak, kissy-face photos that girls just love to post as their default.

Moral of the story: When Facebook hit the scene, America nixed MySpace quicker than Ronnie could pass on Sammi. Read More »

While I’m not known for having tons of morals, standards, or values, I do know the difference between purchasing something and stealing it. However, for some reason, taking things without exchanging money at college is not considered stealing. It’s considered hilarious, thrifty, and even heroic in some cases.

Throughout the past four years I’ve improved my stealing skills and I can now easily slip an entire overhead projector into my pants while distracting my professor with nonsensical questions about alternative office hours. And the best part about taking things at college is that it’s not the use that’s important; but rather the obscurity. A traffic cone? Awesome! Frat Composite? Sick! A wheelchair? Stellar!

But now as I sit in my living room looking at the stolen fishbowl full of billiard balls, the cabinet filled with dining hall forks, and the freshman we took to do the housework, I’m starting to realize that it’s soon time for me to stop grabbing everything I can put my hands on. I didn’t realize it had become a problem until I was home over winter break in the mall and I found myself straining to pocket everything that wasn’t nailed down to the floor. I would walk down the supermarket aisle with my mom and whisper “pocket the apples, frozen peas in the purse.” She not only did not abide, but she questioned how she raised me so wrong. ( I have a long list if she’s truly interested one day, but that’s another blog.) Read More »