I consider myself a pretty honest person, I'm no Mother Theresa, but I don't lie, especially to authority figures and people I need things from. Back in my sophomore year, I didn't exactly live up to this creed and it came back to kick my butt. Hard.
PARTY FOUL! Don’t act like you haven’t heard it before. According to Urban Dictionary, it’s “something socially unacceptable done in a social gathering.” For those of us who have been in the presence of a party foul or may have accidentally committed one ourselves, we know that they’re much more than that.
So…I’m back, just a few days away from my very last semester of college ever. It’s a strange feeling, knowing that this is the last time I’ll buy my school supplies, search for cheap books online, write down all my assignments, and swear to keep it together this year.
It’s almost the big 20-11 and that means it’s time to make your list of New Year’s Resolutions. Or more importantly make resolutions for all the absolutely annoying people around you -- or should we say, resolutions to help you deal with them better. You know, so you don't strangle anyone this year.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year— except for the fact that you’re at the top of Santa’s Naughty List. Coal definitely isn’t something you put on your wish list this year but we both know you’ll be getting a lot of it. Luckily it’s not too late to trick Santa into thinking you walk around with a halo on top of your head. Here are some ways to redeem yourself.
• Do you dress to impress girls or guy? • 7 ways to save time in the morning • Here's why we love NYC • Why are guys so abrupt on the phone? • HAHAHA • So these are the worst parents ever • I'm happy Halloween is over
Unlike Brody Jenner, I was extremely depressed when I saw Avril Lavigne's trashy corset and horse-tail extensions smeared all over Maxim this month. Regardless, loyal to the man-mag and the bro-tastic insight inside, I snatched up the magazine. And that badboy was thick!
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in college, it’s that half of the contacts in my phone are people I don’t know. I may have known them for the length of a drink or a line outside my favorite bar, but memory fades with last call.
I’ve come to learn two fundamental truths this week: the happy hour does not exist, and breaking and entering is easier than it looks. I'm serious.
Your cell phone alarm is going off in your ear to the tune off She Bangs by Ricky Martin, inducing the hangover you worked so hard for last night (note to self: change to something MJ immediately). Your body pillow is the most obliging (and loyal) bed partner you’ve had in months, and the monsoon outside is actually starting to lull you back to sleep.
Dear Friends/Family/That Random Taxi Driver That Picked Me Up and Took Me Home After Finding Me Face First On The Sidewalk Sometimes I like to drink. A lot. And on those occasions I may or may not (okay, always) do stupid things. It is not me, you see; it is the alcohol.
I met Josh* one night in October and thought he was cute. He was tall, had dark hair and eyes, a nice body and dressed REALLY well. We met when I was pre-gaming in the dorm, so it wasn't like I ever knew him when I wasn't under the influence, and this tends to lead to bad decisions on my part. Very bad decisions.
While perusing (and by “perusing” I mean obsessively checking and re-checking) Facebook for the fourth time yesterday, I noticed that no one had done anything since the last time I logged in (an hour before). In a fit of never ending boredom that made signing off impossible, I decided to look at pictures of me.
While you're busy busting out A+'s and making new friends in college, it's always really nice to go home for a weekend. And that is especially true during your freshman year when home friends routinely have elaborate parties where people drunkenly reunite.
Much like my post dedicated to numerous images of celebrity camel toes, there are some pictures that sometimes you’d just rather not see. But you’ve gotta admit, sometimes curiosity gets the best of you and other times you just need a really great link to gross out your friends or, better yet, scare off that ex-hookup who’s been sending you one too many love e-mails a day.
It's unfortunate that a glorious holiday that is supposed to be about laying out on the beach, getting burnt, and winning hot dog eating contests has turned into something so ugly and so misunderstood. Sure the Fourth of July is a day to celebrate our independence as well as our American pride, but that doesn't mean that it's an excuse to desecrate the colors red, white, and blue in such a horrible fashion.
Last weekend I went to my friend's birthday at one of those exclusive NYC clubs where you can't get in if you're not on a list. My friends and I got decked out for a big night on the town, which meant I put on a really short dress, slipped on my big practically-unwalkable heels, and shaved my legs.
• ROTFL. Who thought Biebs was a GIRL? • Weird things abound in men's fashion. • Down goes Lady Gaga. Woops! • A few reasons dudes love the dirty talk. • Some people should not be allowed to procreate. • A guide to wearing seersucker properly.
I couldn't have said it better myself. Amen, brother.
(Girl, bringing a drink back to a table.) Guy: Whad'ya get? Girl: It's a gimlet. Guy: Oh. We usually freeze those. Or put them in the gravy.
It was one of the first warm nights in a long time and everyone on campus was throwing impromptu house parties. I knew I'd be walking all over campus, so I ditched my plans for a dress and heels and opted for jeans and flip flops instead. I met up with some of the girls in my sorority and we headed out to one of the many parties of the night.
My night began like most others: taking shots to the beat of some Lady Gaga song (gimme a break - it was last fall), followed by endless rounds of pong (and probably some trash talking about how I once made a behind-the-back shot). To say the least, my texting abilities slowly declined with each game, and soon my night went from “hey what’s good?” to “meet pu laterrrrrrr???”
(Two girls, walking) Girl 1: OK, we take this to the grave. Girl 2: Yeah, no one can find out. Girl 1: Kinda like the time I cried in the Lizzie McGuire movie. Girl 2: Or when you peed on Stacie's boot
So the dorm policy at our school is tighter than a drum, and at times, it seems as though the administration has figured out every possible way to keep us out of each other's dorms at 3 am. Luckily, for one dorm, a crafty little in-and-out maneuver has been devised called The Sneak. One night, I was (un)fortunate enough to get a glimpse of just how The Sneak works.
(Two girls, walking.) Girl 1: So how was last night? Girl 2: It was great. Craziest sex I've ever had.... But I'm worried. I think he might like me.