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.

So we’ve all heard this particularly morbid myth (no, not any of the ones from Urban Legends—although Brenda was a bad-ass scary killer) about one surefire, if not tragic, way to snag a 4.0. The general myth goes a little something like this: If your roommate dies, you automatically achieve a 4.0 average for the semester.

There are a ton of variations to this myth; if you weren’t in the room at the time of death, you only get a 3.5 (sorry, not traumatized enough!). Or if you have more than one roommate, you’re not all going to get the golden 4.0 (they don’t want to run out of perfect GPA’s, I guess?). And, of course—you can’t kill your roomie for the express purposes of getting a 4.0 (killing her for ruining the suede clutch you lent her, now that’s another story). Read More »

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.

We’ve all been there. It’s 9:04 am on a chilly Wednesday. We’re regretting our decision to pass on Starbucks (and especially regretting the decision to have a “practice” beer pong tournament with the roomies last night). We’re drumming our fingers on our desks, thinking of our still warm beds, wondering if our professor is going to show (and praying that she doesn’t).

Ok, now it’s 9:05, only 15 more minutes (10 if we’re waiting for a T.A.). If Dr. So-and-So still hasn’t shown, we are free and clear to peace out and crawl right back into bed. It’s the golden rule of classes- if your prof is x-amount of minutes late, class is automatically canceled, and the students who waited so—ahem—patiently, will suffer no penalty. Read More »

Sorority house. Not whore house.

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.

Recently, a good friend of mine came to visit me at escuela. When she got here, we screamed and squealed and moved all of her bags upstairs into my room. We chatted and caught up for a while, before I offered to give her a tour of my place.

I adore giving house tours, because the place where I live is so much more than my home—it’s my sorority house. I love showing friends and family all the beautiful details of our old Southern mansion, pointing out hidden symbols and telling the histories behind everything that decorates the house.  My guests are usually very interested and complimentary, so I was kind of bummed when I realized my bestie was being super quiet (and not in the “I’m-so-jealous-you-don’t-have-to-cook-or-clean” kind of way). Read More »

Ladies, take note: the magazine that we love to hate, Cosmopolitan, is touting the sex trend du jour. It seems that gray-rape is the new date rape!

What is gray-rape? It’s the type of rape that happens after you protest having sex with someone but they go ahead anyway after you black out after one too many Smirnoff shots and cheep beer at your local frat’s beer pong competition.

Sigh. Who knew I would yearn for the days that Cosmo published articles that merely warned us that we are most likely to get attacked and raped in the summertime because of flimsy outfits?

Until winter rolls around, when we’re most vulnerable because we’re less on guard, or something. And on vacation, because we leave our inhibitions and tasers at the door.

Oh, and on any old day, coming home from work, because we’re less paranoid of attackers lurking in the bushes when we’re close to home.

And now they’re telling us we have not-quite-rape to worry about?

I don’t know about you, but I think that saying “no” and promptly passing out sends a pretty clear message: “Even if I wanted to sleep with you, which I don’t, I would not be physically able to participate in intercourse as evidenced by the fact that I am not awake for it.” Read More »