So, in an attempt to avoid an ulcer or an unfortuante road rage incident, I vent to you, dear reader. Please feel free to join in and comment about anything–really, anything–that pissed. you. off. this week. Let it all hang out. I feel you.]

People who talk in the library:

Within the stacks, there is always a pretty clear-cut volume hierarchy. You know the second floor computer lounge is bound to be buzzing with group discussions and Facebook revelers taking a break from the books. You also are well aware that the most hidden recesses with “QUIET ZONE” flyers plastered everywhere are meant to be serenely silent. This means that you— Pencil Tap to the Baseline of “Heartless” Guy —are not welcome. You, Girl Who Answers Her Super Effing Loud Ring Tone and Proceeds to Discuss Last Night’s Exploits Loudly, should excuse yourself (and forget your student ID so you can’t get back into the library). “I will listen to my iPod at ear shattering treble and, yes I know you can hear it across the room” Man, I will gladly drop your Nano in my Starbucks if you don’t crank it down. And especially you two, Pretentious Indie D-Bags Discussing Kafka Loudly Enough So We All Know How Devastatingly Brilliant You Are—I might be impressed if I were not attempting to study for my OWN final, not yours.

Chicken Littles.

Everyone has encountered at least one individual with the gift to spread anxiety like a pandemic. It’s hard to tell if their jittery twitching is nerve, coffee, or crack induced as they rattle off dates mentioned in your European History class. Your study group becomes hazardous to your health with this study buddy around—their catastrophic what-if scenarios about the final are ulcer inducing, and your confidence level will plummet as they convince themselves (and you) that achieving anything above a 69 % in this course is utterly ridiculous and completely impossible. If they can’t convince you that the sky is falling, they’ll get you to believe your GPA is.

Mr. and Ms. “I Can Get a C – on the Final and Still Keep My A.”

They already aced the first exams, the midterm and the term paper. While their scholastic planning ahead is most definitely admirable, how are you not ITALS going to let jealousy get the best of you and be irritated as hell by them? Yes, in theory, you could have spent a little more time studying for that first test, but it was the Monday after the first home game weekend! So now you’re stuck busting your ass for a test that’s 45% of your grade while your totally prepared friends skim their notes before heading out to enjoy the end of semester “SH**-SHOW BLOWOUT” your favorite bar is having. Just hope they don’t turn into…

People Apparently Without Finals or Respect for Others.

College is the land of the forgiving. Here, and only here, can you get away with having a living room rave until 4 am…on a Tuesday. While not exactly courteous, it is still excusable to pound on your neighbor’s door after bar crawls and ask them if you can squeeze through their window, onto their roof and into your window after you locked yourself out. And relying upon the kindness of strangers (to take you to the nearest fast food restaurant) is pretty run of the mill, if not advisable for your safety. Hell, you can even throw enormous keggers that flood out of your dorm/ apartment and into the parking lot and your neighbors won’t call the cops! Unless it’s finals week. This means you, a**holes with the amplifiers that live two doors down from me. This means you, beer pong team who live beneath me and evidently needed a practice tournament the night before my Classical Myth exam. This most definitely means you, drunk girls stumbling/ screeching around directly beneath my balcony. Count your blessings that my level- headed roommate was too enveloped in Business Calc to aid me in emptying a bucket of ice water over the railing to help you sober up.

Whew. Ok, now I’ve taken my last sip swig of RedBull, I’m selling back my books and burning my notes, then I am headed home for a month of sheer, decidedly un-educational bliss. What had you almost ripping out your hair (or the pages of your Stats book) this week?

Let’s face it: We LOVE to gossip. We gossip about friends and we gossip about foes. Such idle talk allows us to convey information quickly, although not always accurately. This being said, it is no surprise that the website Juicy Campus has been increasing in popularity since it was founded on August 1, 2007.

When my friends first introduced me to Juicy Campus, I wrote it off as another place for people to share their college exploits online. But I quickly realized that this site was different; I actually knew the people that were being discussed! Friends, classmates, hookups—no one was free from the wrath of this critical group. Let’s just put it this way, if the “Burn Book” from Mean Girls was published online for all to see and comment on, I would imagine it would look similar to Juicy Campus.

The site was created by Mark Ivester, a Duke University Alum, with “the simple mission of enabling online anonymous free speech on college campuses.” (Editor’s Note: That’s a nice way to refer to sh*t talking!) There are currently 64 colleges listed on the site, including many prestigious institutions such as Harvard, UPenn, and Brown. The topics on the site range from the innocent (“Best Frat on Campus”) to the scandalous (“Sex with Professors”). Each post gets a rating ranging from 0% Juicy to 100% Juicy, so the juicier the gossip, the better the rating.

And because everything posted on Juicy Campus is anonymous, people have no censor when it comes to describing how they truly feel about someone. As a result, degrading, racist, homophobic, and downright hurtful remarks are prevalent throughout the site.

As guilty as I feel reading through the posts, I often find myself deciding to read “just one more.” I mean, who doesn’t want to know if she is considered the hottest girl on campus? But sometimes this curiosity gets people into trouble, as was the case here when a junior at Baylor University found her name not under “Hottest Girl,” but rather under “Biggest Slut.”

The embarrassment doesn’t end here. A couple of my own friends have been named on the site (yes, first and last name) saying they are “easy” or “ugly” when I know that it is simply not true. Furthermore, I have encountered posts where people comment on another person’s genitals (one of which referred to a guy that I had been seeing—kind of sucked) or even post naked pictures of an ex in retaliation. I don’t know about you, but I would be mortified.

The site takes no responsibility for the information posted, claiming that the authors are the ones responsible. In fact, as shown on CNN, people who have been hurt by the website have no way to fight back. Kind of hard to place the blame on Mr. Anonymous, wouldn’t you agree?

So we are left with one question: Is Juicy Campus just a fun place where college students can dish out the dirt on their friends and classmates, or has it become a way for people to tarnish the reputation of others with no repercussions?

[Photo courtesy of NYTimes.com]

This table time can often result in blackmail-worthy anecdotes about your Mom’s coed days from Uncle Bill. Unfortunately, it can also result in HORRIBLE AWKWARDNESS should you overshare and let slip any of the following (I know, I thought they’d be cool with it too):

1) That time you got so drunk at the club that you passed out in the bathroom.

Also not good to share: the fact that your equally wasted friends did not notice your sudden absence, and were alerted to your condition only when the cleaning staff found you at 6 am. This story, while earning you street cred amongst your fellow college lushes (I think it’s hilarious, obv), will not go over well with Mom for various reasons. 1) Contrary to her own experiences in college, she would like to believe that you–her responsible and intelligent daughter– would never participate in such tomfoolery. 2) She ain’t sending you to school to get drunk.

Best to skip this little tale and save it for a more appropriate time: boasting during “This one time, I was so drunk…” circles.

2) The time your random roommate had their (um, and your) apartment raided by the DEA.

A stretch, I know, but I’ve heard stranger. Basically any drug-related incident that you were (unfairly) implicated in, and later had your good name cleared from does not need to be shared with Mom & Dad. You obviously handled the situation, and your parents do not need the added stress of constantly fearing for your safety from drug dealers. Plus, I mean, what are the odds of that happening twice? But, you know– if it does–then you should probably tell them. And, also, avoid rooming blind.

3) Any minute details of your sex life.

In fact, pretend you don’t have a sex life. Do they know you’re probably not sitting in your room knitting on Friday nights? Yes. Do they want to be informed that you are, quite commonly, grinding with a hot guy or making out with said stud? Um, no. All they need to know is that you’re responsible about your activities, you have a clean bill of health, and they have no impending grandchildren. Unless your mom is a wacky, new age sex therapist, a high school health teacher, or Lorelai Gilmore, just…you know, skip it.

4) That you didn’t earn those fab grades with perfect attendance.

If you are one of those chosen few who attends class for first day attendance, paper due dates and the final exam in exclusivity yet still pulls an A – good for you (I hate you!). JK, you’re not that bad, just lucky. Anyhoo, though, your parents don’t want to know that you are the one hit wonder of attendance, and that you spent most lectures doing more productive things with your time. They’re happy with the end result (your kick ass GPA), but by no means do they need to be enlightened that your tuition covers an average 5 days of class. Keep up the good(?) work, but keep your lips sealed.

5) AN.Y.THING. that happened on Spring Break.

What to tell them: Where you’re going, where you’re staying, emergency contact numbers, and when you’ll be home. That’s it. For me, this is a given as I pay for my own spring break adventures and my mom simply pretends the week itself does not exist. But seriously, even if your parents “really do want to know how your spring break was, just curious!” DO.NOT. TELL THEM. Describe the beautiful landscape, the quaint shopping, the exorbitant cost of “bottled water”. Just don’t tell them what you did, who you did, or where you did it. Capiche? What happens on Spring Break…will get dragged up during future references to your faults should you ever tell your parents what really went down.