Haven’t we all had a certain person’s face stuck in our head but for the life of us, we just cannot remember their name! We usually solicit the help of a friend by giving vague and somewhat inaccurate descriptions of this person that don’t help at all. When they are no help, we give up and bust open a yearbook and then carefully examine every single photo until we find our culprit (hopefully I’m not alone in this).

We here at CollegeCandy have stumbled upon a video that takes this common instance and adds a little twist. Watch and chuckle!

Louis Vuitton has always been the signifier of luxury lifestyle: suitcases, satchels and…contraception? Pictures of a monogrammed condom have been spreading faster than an STI after Halloween, and it’s said to sell for a whopping $68. Because when wrapping it up in such a fashion, the sex will definitely be better than when using the free condoms given out on campus, right?! Talk about getting some serious bang for your buck.

Oh, and by the way, it’s also supposed to be a gift that gives back, since a portion of the proceeds are said to benefit amfAR, the American Foundation for AIDS Research. Sure, it costs a pretty penny, but can you really put a price on sex that could potentially save lives?!?

This just sounds way too good/ridiculous/hilarious to be true…

Technically, a Louis Vuitton condom exists, as in there are condoms with the Louis Vuitton monogram being made. But according to the “official” website LouisVuittonCondom.com (and contrary to what many other blogs are reporting), the branded contraception isn’t actually from the luxury brand at all. In fact, the product was “designed” by Georgia Republic architect Irakli Kiziria, a man just trying to make a buck off of another man’s money, really. Oh, and possibly raise some money for amfAR too.

From what I can tell, the entire purpose of fake luxury items is to show them off to others and pretend that you really do live enough of the high life to carry a couple thousand on your forearm like it’s nothing at all. So why would something as private as a condom ever be enticing to produce as an imitation? Actually, it’s a fake version of an item that doesn’t actually exist. And it’s disposable after a single use…and who knows how safe that single use actually is anyway, since it’s coming from an architect instead of a reputable brand.

Thank goodness this isn’t actually a condom produced by Louis Vuitton. And even if the fashion house did go into luxury contraception, I highly doubt that monogrammed ridges would be any more enjoyable.

Ashley is a UC San Diego grad who is holding on way too tightly to a potential career in magazines and goes to Vegas all too often. She’s fascinated with celebrities and strawberry beer and doubles as a pathological texter/emailer/blogger. Feed the addiction with tweets @cashleelee. Thanks in advance.

A few summers ago I confided in my brother that I wanted to get a tattoo.

“That’s really permanent,” he told me. “How would you feel if you got the Backstreet Boys tattooed on your ankle when you were obsessed with them in middle school?”

I actually wouldn’t mind, which is probably a larger issue, but I understood his point. Tattoos are forever (and if they’re not, they are even more painful to get off than they are to put on), so if you want to get one, it’s gotta be something meaningful. Something you love now and will love until the day you die. Something that isn’t trendy, isn’t something you’ll get sick of, and isn’t something that’s gonna stretch and sag as you get older.

Now, it only this guy had talked to my brother….

It’s funny cuz it’s true.

[Everyone’s got a morning after story and we wanna hear yours! Send it over to us and we’ll post it – anonymously, of course – right here!]

Freshman year.  What’s there to say?  You go in with the best of intentions: not losing your scholarships, making the deans list, aiming for the toilet when you puke.

For me, the first few weeks of school went along like perfection.  I had met the one goal I had set for myself, the top tip I read in all the college mags: get to know your professors.  They all knew me by name, even the ones I had for packed seminar classes.  My Sociology professor would go so far as to wave to me on campus.  If that wasn’t an achievement, I don’t know what was.  Plus, he looked just like Maury Povich, which – bonus – I thought was so cool.

Anyway, one evening I find myself in the library being an A+ scholar…sort of.   Picture the scene:  I’ve got a textbook open, my Starbucks in front of me, and I’m just jamming out to my iTunes when The Most Beautiful Guy in The World stands up and leans over the little desk divider.  In an exact quote, he says, “I love that song.”  Expletives abound in my brain as I rip out my ear buds, wondering if these charming blue eyes are really masking his rage at my liberal use of the volume-up button.  In an ultimate loser move, I stare back in silence.  “The Postal Service, right?  Yeah, they’re really good,” he continues.  I’m still staring.  He’s drumming his fingers on my desk in rhythm with the music, which continues to play entirely too loud.  “I’m Will….you are?”  I finally blink, the first time since the start of this whole one-sided exchange, and mumble my name, choking halfway through the second syllable.  “Okay, well then, I guess I’ll be seeing you around,” he goes, and then winks (which, for the record, did not come off even mildly cheesy) before sitting down and going back to work.

Cue the sweaty palms and racing heart.  I cannot think about school at a time like this!  Are you insane!?  I shove everything into my bag, take one fleeting glance at the florescent lights glistening off Will’s gorgeously mussed hair, and then run the hell away.

In the sake of space, time, and short attention spans, I’ll give you a quick rundown of the weeks that followed.

The next day I ran into Major Hottie while getting a hot dog (seriously?) in the cafeteria.  This time, somewhat more prepared, I offered him ketchup for his chicken sandwich.  It may or may not have dropped on the floor as I went to slide it to his plate.  Once again, he was painfully calm and collected, asking if I wouldn’t mind sitting with him.  Mind?  Sir, I would sit with you naked in a blizzard (famous last words).   For the better part of two hours, he talked and I laughed louder than a normal person should.  We joked about hot dog eating etiquette and how he crashed his Beemer into the side of his house over the summer (wait, what?).  He told me about how he’s living in this fancy apartment off campus with two other guys who he insisted were a bigger mess than he was.  The whole time, I found it all very charming and agreed to go out with him that weekend.  A first date lead to a second date lead to a third and so on.  By fall break we were…close friends.

It was at that point that he propositioned me.  No, not like that, like this: “Hey, so I’ve been thinking.  Me and the guys were gonna head out for break a few days early.  You know, they don’t even go to class anyway.  Uh, I was wondering- maybe you wanna come?  I’m going to reserve my dad’s plane so you don’t need to worry about getting a ticket or anything.  And I’ve got skis, too.  You can borrow some.  Basically you just have to bring yourself, the rest I’ll take care of.”

His father’s plane?  Skis?  This was all news to me!  Not being the argumentative type, I violently shook my head up and down and promised to be with them when they left for the airport the following morning.

You know how people remember where they were and what they were doing the day Kennedy was shot?  Well, for some reason I remember how blue the sky was the morning I went to meet Will and his band of heathens.  Between struggling with an over-packed duffle bag and shoving through morning sidewalk traffic, somewhere along the way I must have glanced upward.  Because as I look back on this day, the biggest detail I remember was a cloudlessly blue sky.  Beyond that, I think I’ve blocked everything else out so as not to suffer from post traumatic stress disorder.

Somehow they got me in the plane (I’m terrified of flying, a fact I forgot to mention to anyone) and before I knew it we were in the air.  Horror.  I was gripped with the chilling realization that a) I have no idea where this flying death trap is taking me, b) Aaliyah died on a small aircraft that was overloaded with baggage and I know I saw a lot of heavy winter paraphernalia go in the cargo area, c) no one knows of my whereabouts, and d) there is genuine wood paneling in this thing.

For the first time in my life, I drank dark liquor like the man I was not and blacked out until we landed.  Will had to help me down the dumb little plane stairs and into a yellow Hummer (truth) that was going to drive us to our wintery destination.  I think I slept on that ride, too.  It was at dinner that I fully snapped back into action.  They gave me vodka; something that was so familiar and comforting, it almost brought tears to my eyes.  While two of the three stooges flirted with a significantly older woman (whose name was Kitty or Candy or something equally as fitting), Will explained to me that we were at his family’s chalet (his word) and that if there was anything I needed, just “put it on the tab.”

Like any good girl in a bad situation, I finished my drink and just decided to go with things.  Little did I know, that night “things” included getting way drunker than I’ve ever been in my life, rolling in the street as Friend #1 peed next to me, watching Friend #2 smash a car window with a mailbox, helping Will steal a deer head off a hotel wall, and finally breaking into someone’s hot tub while (unbeknownst to us) they were in their living room watching the whole thing.  Snowflakes drifted down as we sat in the bubbly water like a happy, dysfunctional family passing a flask and singing ’80s hits.  I guess the homeowner didn’t want guests, however, because before we knew it red and blue lights came flashing and I began sobbing as a stranger urged me to put my clothes back on.

Sobriety hit me like a two hundred pound beam.  Ohmigod, someone’s putting me in cuffs!  I’m not like this; I’m a good kid!  Next to me Friend #2 resisted arrest and kicked around in the snow.  Will shouted something about wanting to see a man named Jack.  God help me, I just stood there trying not to pee my pants.

Reality sunk in as the booze fully left my blood stream.  They put me in the slammer.  Or shall I say, a posh resort town’s answer to the slammer.  There were tasteful wooden benches and a clock with no hands that had “Doin’ Time” written across the face.  On the bright side, my cuffs were off and I wasn’t behind bars, so I had that going for me.  Plus, there were three adorably rumpled guys sitting to my right with their heads in their hands.

Damnit girl, snap out of it!  How could I think about men at a time like this!?  I mentally slapped myself in the face and began plotting my escape.  Before I could say the word “shiv,” Jack strode in.  Please, if you will, picture an old timey, Western cowboy.  Now put said cowboy in a flannel shirt, really broken-in jeans, and age him twenty years.  This was Sheriff Jack and he was the about to be my best friend.

“Well Will, glad to see you back so soon,” he said through a thick accent I couldn’t place.  What? Was this some sick activity the resort plans for you?  Get drunk, get charged with breaking and entering, and go home with a blemish on your permanent record…thanks for visiting, come again!  Will looked up through bloodshot eyes and asked if Jack was going to make us spend the night like last time.  So…there was a “last time.”  I was getting a crash course in how to date Prince Harry, and if I’m being honest, I stopped liking it around our a capella rendition of “Betty Davis Eyes.”

Jack looked over his clipboard and saw us for the pathetic tourists we were.  “Yeah buddy, you’re here til 8am.  You know the drill.  I’m not gonna book you, but so help me if you move a muscle, I’ll call your father.”

He was right; we were there until I looked out the window in front of me and saw the sun coming up over the mountains.  By that point my hangover had more than set in and I was craving some greasy food and two Advil like whoa.  Jack did me one better by saying we could leave.  Just like that.  Free at last, free at last!  Thank God almighty, we’re free at last!

As long as I live, nothing will compare to the feeling of walking from that little log cabin of a building out into the freezing morning air.  Snow was falling again as I looked Will straight in the eye and said, plainly and directly, “I want to go home.  Now.”

Week after week (after week after week…), CollegeCandy and our pal John bring you some of the weirdest, funniest, and saddest things he hears on his college campus. And we know he’s not the only one who hears this stuff. Join the Overheard revolution! Listen in on some weirdos’ conversations and share them in the comments or send ‘em over. You know there’s a lot of funny things to be heard on your campus, so take off those (faux) Burberry ear muffs and tune in.

(Two girls, on a campus bus.)

Girl 1: So did they have sex?

Girl 2: No, they boarded Penetration Station but the train never left.

(Girls in pajamas, waiting in line at Dunkin Donuts.)

Girl 1: It was hands versus boobs.

Girl 2: That’s a really hard fight to win.

(Two guys, talking in the student lounge.)

Guy 1: They’ve really improved dread rendering, haven’t they.

Guy 2: Yeah. Dreads are just these big snakey lumps.

(Tour group, walking through campus.)

Group leader (yelling) : Hey! You guys aren’t fooling anyone! You’re not gay at all! … Yeah, so this is the library.

(Guy, writing a paper with another guy in the library.)

Guy: Is it funny if I … ejaculate out a window? Holding two stress balls? No, I mean, not like that.

(Guy, at a party, talking to another guy.)

Guy: I have to pee. Should I go outside, or can I use your toilet?

Guy 2: What? Why?

Guy: Don’t you have to pay for water?

Guy 2: Yeah, the toilet is heated. I don’t know if I can spare you a flush.

(Guy, raising a hand in class.)

Guy: This book is about wanting to get out of your circumstances. Wanting to make them better. Like me, see, I’m a miserable prick. And I can’t ever get away.

(Girl, on phone.)

Girl: … I don’t get it! What’s so funny about pudding farts?

(Girl, guy, in Starbucks.)

Girl: Wait, so … is your hat glued to your head?

(Girls, at dining hall for breakfast.)

Girl 1: You’re gonna have to stop laying on me.

Girl 2: But you’re soft. Breakfast is not. I wouldn’t lay on a bowl of oatmeal.

Girl 1: Don’t they do that in spas?

(Girl, talking to friends in a dorm.)

Girl: So I was thinking … like it’s really cool. When Japanese people talk to each other, they just sound like this. Or Australians.

(Girls, outside a dorm bathroom.)

Girl 1: Hey, you guys almost done in there?

Girl 2: Yeah, you done slappin’ the pants?

Week after week (after week after week…), CollegeCandy and our pal John bring you some of the weirdest, funniest, and saddest things he hears on his college campus. And we know he’s not the only one who hears this stuff. Join the Overheard revolution! Listen in on some weirdos’ conversations and share them in the comments or send ‘em over. You know there’s a lot of funny things to be heard on your campus, so take off those (faux) Burberry ear muffs and tune in.

(Girls, on a park bench.)

Girl 1: … And he said he was afraid to sleeping with me!

Girl 2: I think he’s gay. Or not human.

Girl 3: Oh no! The cockroach clones again?

(Girls, talking at dinner.)

Girl: Today was horrible.

Girl 2: Yeah?

Girl 1: I had the worst headache. It was so bad, I couldn’t pee.

(Guy and girl, getting something from a vending machine.)

Guy: I love vending machines. I love putting my coins into their slots.

(Guy, girl, talking outside a professor’s office.)

Girl: I think you’re an egotistical idiot, you’re full of s—, stupid and your face looks like a pizza. Woops! Vrrrp! Go back in time 10 seconds.

(Professor, lecturing in class.)

Professor: A meteorologist who doesn’t believe in climate change is like a paleontologist who doesn’t believe in dinosaurs.

(Girl, talking, in a dorm hallway.)

Girl: I’m going to the rumpus room. Do you have any condoms?

(Girls, at breakfast.)

Girl 1: Hey, you got some boyfriend on your shirt.

Girl 2: What? Eew.

Girl 1: No, it’s nothing gross. Just a little bit of your boyfriend.

(Guy, complaining about something.)

Guy: I don’t see why it needs to just be the ‘Vagina Monologues.’ What about the Penis Monologues? What if all I really want to see is a talking d—?

(Guys, waiting at a bus stop.)

Guy 1: Blue line. That’s all mine.

Guy 2: Dude, you can’t leave now. If you leave now, who will I fart on?

Guy 1: An excellent point.

(Guys, talking over lunch. Different guys. Seriously.)

Guy 1: You know, we have all the power of the internet at our disposal … we can connect to anyone, any time, anywhere … we can share all the information in the world.

Guy 2: And all we want to do is show our d—-s to people.

Week after week (after week after week…), CollegeCandy and our pal John bring you some of the weirdest, funniest, and saddest things he hears on his college campus. And we know he’s not the only one who hears this stuff. Join the Overheard revolution! Listen in on some weirdos’ conversations and share them in the comments or send ‘em over. You know there’s a lot of funny things to be heard on your campus, so take off those (faux) Burberry ear muffs and tune in.

(Guy, talking on the phone.)

Guy: Know how you win an argument? You spank ‘em. Can’t nobody argue with a good spank.

(Two girls, browsing in a convenience store.)

Girl 1: Twix?

Girl: 2: Nah. That doesn’t really lubricate my gears.

(Girl, yelling, behind me at a basketball game.)

Girl: No … ! Don’t dribble! Please don’t dribble! If you dribble, it’ll never come back! I’ll never come back!

(Girls, watching television in the lounge.)

Girl 1: I just like Peyton and beer.

Girl 2: I’d hit Peyton. I’d hit his chin, too, if he had. one.

(Guy, girl, arguing on the apartment bus.)

Girl: I’m not a homophobe! Stop putting words in my mouth.

Guy: I’m not! You said you thought being gay was really crazy and weird!

Girl: I never said that.

Guy: Okay, no, you’re right, you didn’t. Sorry.

(Girl, talking on cell phone.)

Girl: I can’t believe she won the Grammy. I hate Taylor Swift. I’m not listening to her again. Unless I’m drunk. Or working out. Or walking to class.

(Guy and girl, talking – from a CC reader.)

Guy: Nose hair trimmers … I think you could use some of those!

(Two girls, leaving an English class.)

Girl 1: Whaddya think?

Girl 2: I think she makes my coochie tingle.

(Guy, confused, on the phone.)

Guy: I don’t get it. Why would you give someone a purple nurple if it didn’t feel really good?

(Guy, introducing another guy to a lunch table.)

Guy 1: This is Josh. He goes to William and Mary.

Guy 2: Oh, Virginia? So you guys, like, bleed Velveeta, right?

(Girls, watching ‘The Lion King.’)

Girl 1: Mm. Jeremy Irons.

Girl 2: Jeremy’s Iron.

Girl 1: Jer – in me – Irons.

(Two girls, on the other end of the dorm hall.)

Girl: I mean … they do it at 9 p.m., then midnight, then 5 a.m. I don’t get it! Is that guy, like, made of dicks or something?

Week after week (after week after week…), CollegeCandy and our pal John bring you some of the weirdest, funniest, and saddest things he hears on his college campus. And we know he’s not the only one who hears this stuff. Join the Overheard revolution! Listen in on some weirdos’ conversations and share them in the comments or send ‘em over. You know there’s a lot of funny things to be heard on your campus, so take off those (faux) Burberry ear muffs and tune in.

(Two guys in the grocery store.)

Guy 1: What about that? Gorilla grape. What do you think?

Guy 2: No, man, like … think about it. Gorilla? Ew. I don’t want to drink that.

(Girl, on the phone in Starbucks.)

Girl: You puked in the middle of the street? How drunk were you?…. Sober? Who pukes sober?

(Guy, on the phone in the art lab.)

Guy: Listen, you don’t need to care. But I can fit inside a dinosaur.

(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.

(Professor, in an early morning class.)

Professor: Oh. Sorry.

(beat)

Professor: It’s early. I just burped for the first time.

(Girl, explaining herself.)

Girl: Oh, you see, I barfed, but it was just – this white gunk. Because I didn’t eat anything. I only ever ate Popsicles and yogurt. Because I used to weigh 150 pounds. I was 150 pounds when I was in fourth grade.

(Guy, talking on the road outside an apartment complex.)

Guy 1: God. I was so sick. Couldn’t keep anything down. I only drank iced tea for three days because it tasted just as good coming back the other way.

Guy 2: Dude, that was a rough cyst.

(Girl, on cell phone.)

Girl: It was insane. All of a sudden there was a big dance circle and the entire bar was beating the beat. Even the bartenders.

(Woman, at a deli, wearing a fur coat, fur hat and fur shawl.)

Woman: I would like seven pounds of ham. It’s cold.

(Two girls, talking in the library cafe.)

Girl 1: If I die, just keep me in the worms.

Girl 2: They’re getting hungry. They could use you.

(Cashier at a pizza delivery restaurant.)

Guy: Thanks.

Cashier: I don’t know. I’m just giving you … like, all these presents of food.

Guy: Uh-huh?

Cashier: Like I’m the witch from Hansel and Gretel or something.

Guy: Yeah.

(Two girls, waiting at a bus stop.)

Girl 1: Isn’t it supposed to make your breasts really uncomfortable?

Girl 2: It’s fine. I’ll just have the tiny human take care of it.

From JWoww.com: “Jenni has created the ultimate in fashionable clothing. She will be reinventing the term “Sexy Sophisticated.” Not only will her line be “Edgy” and “Sexy”, but it will make people of all ages and body type feel more confident in “the scene.” This exclusive line will be limited and custom made to your body type.

I love JWoww as much as the next Guidette, especially after she fist pumped The Situation in the face, but “sexy sophisticated“? For “all ages and body types“?

WTF?