"If I clean this toilet I can have a beer tonight."

I’m constantly amazed at how challenging it is to be an adult. It’s like everyday there’s something new I have to do that won’t get taken care of unless I actually take the initiative to do it.

I’ve basically had to turn into a parent for myself in order to get anything done. I remind myself to do things repeatably even though I heard myself the first time, I nag myself incessantly to do gross chores around the apartment, and I even discipline and reward myself with a behavior chart I keep on the fridge. Five gold stars mean I can go out for happy hour on Friday.

I’ve recently put myself in time-out (spent all day on the couch watching whatever Sandra Bullock movie TBS plays) for breaking curfew and I’ve lectured myself about not taking vitamins when I started sniffling last week. I’m at the point that I think my actual mother feels left out when she calls because I’ve already covered her territory. She calls expecting an opportunity to nurture (tell me what to do) and instead she gets a co-parent complaining about misbehavior and paying the cable bill on time.

While I’ve enjoyed being a parent to myself and ending each night with a warm glass of milk and Goodnight Moon, I’ve started to wonder when I will transition from being a faux-adult to being a real one. Read More »

"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. Read More »

It’s finally here: week ten of my summer internship at Magazine X in New York City. I’m proud to report that I’ve made it through numerous days of unpaid labor and braved the horrible commuting conditions (apparently Mother Nature decided that this summer was going to be characterized by either torrential downpours or blazing heat, and nothing in between), and I actually managed to have a pretty good time while doing so. I only had to get someone coffee twice (and I could get myself one too, so leaving the office for a Starbucks run wasn’t too awful), and I have a ton of good clips to add to my resume.

So what have I learned? Read More »

Who’s ready for Happy Hour? WE ARE, WE ARE!!

Maybe it’s the rain, maybe it’s the marathon training, but we are really tired. Maybe even too tired to hit the town, get drunk, and take tons of pictures of ourselves tonight. I know – something must be wrong with us, but it might be a good thing. We don’t want to do something stupid, and we never know where those pictures are going to end up.

Perhaps we’ll stay home and satisfy ourselves?

At the same time, though, we wanna show off our new boobs (thank you, cookies!), try to meet a man that meets our standards (like one of these hunka hunka burning loves) and have sex (but not that other icky act) on the first date! And we have the perfect eff-me shoes to do it!

Decisions, decisions….

I’ve mentioned this in recent posts, but I always use my summer vacation as a catalyst for next fall’s budget.  Many of you are saving money by living at home, or earning extra cash by taking on a summer job.  However, when the sun comes out, it’s a lot more tempting to go out and spend money.

You might have said “No” to 1/2 price happy hour during the winter, but now your friends can twist your arm to drink overpriced margaritas at a trendy beach bar.  Cutting costs doesn’t have to mean cutting down on fun, however, and if you play your cards right, you can have a kickass summer and barely spend a dime.

1.  Hang out at the lake.

Big beaches can actually cost a pretty penny, when you factor in overpriced parking costs, expensive surrounding restaurants, and the gas money if it’s a major tourist trap that seems worth a 2- to 3-hour drive.  You can still soak in the sun and go for a dip at your local lake.  If the lake is part of a community park, you might have to pay a couple dollars to park, but that money usually goes towards keeping the park clean.

2.  Go fruit picking.

Check out local farms and farmer’s markets and stock of on all the fresh produce that’s yours for the picking.  Whether you visit a strawberry patch, a blueberry field, or stock up on a harvest of tomatoes, you can spend a few therapeutic hours away from the commotion of our high-tech world, and maintain your bikini bod by eating healthy.  Then, go home and conjure up some gastronomic experiments, such as homemade caprese salad (tomatoes layered with fresh mozzarella and drizzled with balsamic vinegar) or a genuine strawberry daiquiri. Read More »

As a semi-live-in girlfriend, I encounter all kinds of things in my boyfriend’s boudoir that he might have previously attempted to put away or hide to create a more presentable version of himself. Well those days are long gone and I am now subject to every dirty pair of boxers, week old Taco Bell leftover and wet, mildewed towel left on the bed. But these things I’m pretty much immune to. Guys’ rooms are almost by definition a hell of a lot dirtier than girls (at least I like to pretend) and all of these little things can be fixed with a load of laundry, a huge garbage bag and a little Febreeze.

But what are the kinds of things that you would never want to find in your guy’s room? Besides the very obvious (unrecognizable panties, bras, earrings, condom wrappers) I can name a few…

1. Super Creepy Porn.

You can pretty much accept the fact that there will be some form of porn in your guy’s room at some point. You can also be fairly sure that you will accidentally intercept said pornography via mail, browser history or that shoebox under his bed. (Tip: boys don’t want you to surprise them with spring cleaning; you probably shouldn’t want to surprise them with it either.) No big deal, I say, come to terms with the fact that while your guy absolutely loves hooking up with you, he will still want to look at porn. It’s just a different outlet for their sexuality and can actually improve your sex life when seen from the right perspective. Additionally, it’s a good substitute for when your boyfriend wants to get it on (always) and you don’t (rarely, but it happens). If there were no porn there would be an abnormally high amount of blue balls or of extremely exhausted girlfriends. Read More »

[I like to think of myself as a pretty easy going gal, and try not to sweat the small stuff. But sometimes (ok, maybe slightly more often) the general cluelessness, carelessness and overall stupididty of some things and or/people really gets to me. I find that venting is the most efficient way to rid myself of the stress that idiots, wrong meal orders, lack of cell phone ettiquette and cheese flavored products (that don’t even contain any freaking cheese!) induce.

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.]

Unenthusiastic recipients: We’ve all been there: you spend hours– quite possibly even days–searching for the perfect gift for a special someone. You lovingly wrap it in unique and pretty paper before signing your name on the gift tag, anticipating that perfect moment when their face lights up with joy and gratitude, as they are thoroughly impressed by your gift buying skills. So imagine my frustration after saving my hard earned (and hard-not-to-spend-at-happy-hour) wages to buy my baby bro an iPod, only to watch him open it Christmas morning and proclaim “Cool. Thanks.” Ok now, I understand the whole males not expressing as much emotion concept; I understand that he’s a 16-year-old and slightly pissed off is his default setting, but come on, man! I think I deserved at least a Thank You hug. Read More »

Remember when you were a little kid, and you’d actually wake up on time for school… just so you could huddle next to the radio and listen for your school to be called on the list of snow days?

With winter’s doom impending and temperatures dropping faster than an eight ball at Amy Winehouse’s flat, we can’t help but cross our fingers and pray… Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

Are snow days something you never grow out of? Or, in college, do they prove that miracles really can happen? Here’s how our anticipation of snow days has evolved since grammar school.

Then: A snow day meant a day off from times tables.

Now: We don’t have to finish copying someone else’s MiniTabs before Stats lab.

Then: We would make a beeline to the street and get all the neighborhood kids together for a snowball fight.

Now: We don’t have to brave arctic winds to walk to class and sit through lecture with snot-cicles hanging from our frostbitten faces.

Then: Since we were already up at the crack of dawn, we could take advantage of the snow day and start building a snow man as soon as we got “the word.”

Now: We can go back to sleep for about six hours, and wake up just in time for happy hour. Read More »

I like to think of myself as a pretty easy going gal, and try not to sweat the small stuff. But sometimes (ok, maybe slightly more often) the general cluelessness, carelessness and overall stupididty of some things and or/people really gets to me. I find that venting is the most efficient way to rid myself of the stress that idiots, wrong meal orders, lack of cell phone ettiquette and cheese flavored products (that don’t even contain any freaking cheese!) induce.

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. Did your roommate leave dirty dishes all over your kitchen? Did your 8 am professor ‘forget’ to tell you class was cancelled? Did some girl on her cell with bad high-lights and tacky bumper stickers that say “angel” and other clever things cut you off today? Let it all hang out. I feel you. Read More »

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. In fact, it is not until the morning after when I am chugging Gatorade and trying to get my bed to stop spinning that I even realize exactly what went down. And I feel bad – really, I do. So, I want to take this opportunity to apologize for it all.

To The Bartender: I am sorry that I hopped over the bar and drank beer directly from the tap. And attempted to spray my friends with Tonic Water. And knocked over that giant stack of glasses….

To My Best Friend: I am sorry that I bit your hand when you tried to take my falafel away from me. Yes, I know I said we would share. I am also sorry that I stole your shoe…and drank a beer out of it. And that I peed in your garbage can. Oh, wait. That was your sock drawer? My bad.

To My Friends: I am sorry that I called your girlfriend “Gorilla”…to her face (but I am more sorry that you are dating such a mess). Sorry that I brought that random dude back to the apartment and accidentally took him to your room. I will wash your sheets…and rug. Oh, and your teddy bear. Read More »