Ask Tuffy Luv. TuffyLuv@collegecandy.com

Dear Tuffy Luv,

So to start, this is humiliating, but last Friday night I peed my bed. I’m a 24-year-old grad student and live in the dorms at my school. I have no idea what happened, and this was a completely random event. Anyways, my roommate found out (it was pretty easy, she was awake when I woke up soaked…), which was even more embarrassing. I got up, took my wet pajamas off and went to take a shower. When I got back to the room, I stripped my sheets and took everything to wash. When I got back, I sprayed my mattress with Lysol…I think I handled the situation very responsibly.

But Monday, I got an email from my RA, requesting a meeting with me, my roommate, and her boss, who runs the whole dorm. Come to find out, my roommate had taken pictures of my wet bed and clothes. In the meeting, they expressed their concern that a girl my age was “still wetting the bed,” which is apparently how my roommate explained the situation. My RA’s boss said I had to pay for a new mattress and am required to have a waterproof mattress cover on the new one. Having the mattress cover isn’t a big deal, but paying for the new mattress caused my account to be billed and now my parents are aware of the incident. My roommate also told EVERYBODY in our hall about my accident, a rumor that has circulated to many more people on campus and made me the target of many snide remarks. Up until now, we had a great relationship. But I have no idea what to do! This has been the most humiliating few days of my life. I really don’t want to live with her anymore-should I request a room transfer or what? I cannot believe this has become such a big deal!

If you could offer advice, I’d really appreciate it,
Thank you,
BW

Read More »

For a long while (ahem, code for way too long) I dated a guy a little younger than me.  And by dated, I mean every Friday night, we would get together after an intense evening partying and make out like wild animals.

We were pretty serious about our business.  We would run off from parties, and cozy up in his car.  We would sneak into my apartment when the roommates weren’t home and make out on my dirty, toothpaste stained sink.  We would frolic through the side streets from parties, making out like bunny rabbits. We would rush up to the bathroom of any party and eat each others faces off. Anywhere we could go in “private,” we would go.

One morning, after a particularly awesome night with my fave younger man, I woke up pretty early to go to the bathroom.  My make out king was sleeping soundly, so I tried not to wake him as I crawled to my demise.  In the bathroom (which conjoined the only two bedrooms in our suite that we all shared), I was welcomed by a bodily fluid surprise.  The entire bathroom was completely painted in urine.   The walls, the ocean scene shower curtain, the toilet seat, the ceiling, the door, the towels, the everything. Covered in urine.

My eyes bugged out, and I stood frozen.  A girl absolutely could not make this happen with the constraint of having a va-jay-jay.  This was a complete man-made mess.  My angry roommate showed up on the other side of the bathroom and gave me a look I would imagine getting before my head was cut off.  Kevin showed up behind me and looked around the bathroom in embarrassment.  I looked up at him slowly and was face-to face with two hickeys the size of Texas.

My roommate snorted from the other end,

“You might want to get some concealer for those marks on your neck…oh and have fun cleaning this up.” Needless to say the romance fizzled after we spent 6 hours bleaching away the smell the his piss.

[You think that's bad? Check out our other cringe-worthy Morning After stories.]

For the longest time, Cosmo was my bible of choice. It helped me sustain my reputation as all-knowing sex goddess among my circle of friends in high school (nevermind the fact that I didn’t even have my first kiss until the end of my sophomore year…of college). However, at some point, I found myself slightly disenchanted with Cosmo’s absurdity, and felt I need more mature, more refined literature. Alas, I didn’t know about Ms, so I surrendered to Glamour.

To me, Glamour was elegant. It was sophisticated. It was legitimately cosmopolitan. They only featured 68 ways to please your man, in stark contrast to Cosmo’s 168, and I’ve always valued succinctness. Their cover ladies were more erudite and high-class than the typical B-listers that graced Cosmo’s covers. It took a fairly ridiculous amount of time to realize that Glamour’s articles can be just as tacky and misguided and silly as Cosmo’s.

For example, take this month’s article “What No One Ever Admits About Marriage.” Apparently, once you commit to infinite monogamy (but let’s be real, in this day of age, that means, like, 5 years, tops), all conceptualizations of open communication go out the window, and it’s like you’ve entered Fight Club. Thankfully, Glamour decided to uncover Read More »

I had known Jon (name has been changed since I know homeboy reads this site) for a little over a year. Our entire relationship was based on drinking together; we met through a friend at a bar, exchanged numbers and quickly became one another’s drinking friends. You know, the one you call when you’re drunk at 10:30 on a Friday and looking for fun people to meet up with. Preferably with cute friends.

Our relationship was flirty and filled with sexual tension.
Yeah, from the moment we met I knew we would inevitably be taking a train to Sexy Town.

And so we did. Last weekend, after drinking one too many vodka sodas at a karaoke bar, I ended up at Jon’s apartment (after stumbling down the street and making a weird pit-stop at some stranger’s apartment who was entertaining 12 hippie friends with a 12-foot bong. Who knows?). Jon and I were talking in the living room and the next thing I knew we were making out on and our way to his bedroom. Read More »

It’s Wednesday so you know what that means: another person has been sent home from The Biggest Loser ranch. And, holy hell, that was some serious drama. What is up with the green team? Why are they so mean? Someone needs to sit them down and force them to watch a Titanic, Notebook and Green Mile marathon until they crack and show some damn emotion. I’m not sure if I hate them or the red team more. Or that nasty brown team from the last couples’ season.

OMG, did I just go on a mega Biggest Loser tangent? Wow. I need help. What I meant to say was that it’s Wednesday which means it’s time for another exciting round of Would You Rather….

So let’s forget about The Biggest Loser for now and think of something a little happier (even if it’s far off in the future for many of us). Give us your vote and share your reasoning in the comments. Happy Hump Day!

Would you rather pee on your guy out of excitement when he proposes OR throw up on him out of excitement when he proposes? Read More »

[One of the greatest aspects of college life is the morning-after recap with friends. You stumble out of bed, grab your liquid of choice, and gather around the living room to replay (and remind yourself of) the events of last night. You laugh, you cringe and you share the highest of highs...and the rock-bottom lowest of lows. We thought we'd bring the fun of the recap to CollegeCandy, so grab that coffee and take part in the deliciously awkward moments your CC friends have to share.]

I’ll put it plainly: On my 19th birthday, I made it my duty to get really, really drunk. It was my freshman year at school, and my parents had come up for the weekend and taken a few of my closest friends out to celebrate with us. Naturally, as is often customary when mom and dad are footing the bill, the wine was flowing for a good two hours. By the time we finished dinner and got back to campus I had a great buzz, and we made our way to our friend’s apartment where a party was being thrown in my honor.

A kid that I had been hooking up with lived in the apartment along with nine other guys, and as the night went on we starting flirting a lot and it seemed like I would end up spending the night. I was really excited that he was paying attention to me – so excited that I didn’t even care when I dropped my new cell phone in the toilet. (I’ll always owe one of my best friends for sticking her hand into my pee and extracting my shiny pink Motorola Razor… Since that weekend, when talking to my parents, I’ve maintained the argument that one of my friends dropped it into the toilet. They still don’t believe me.)

Anyways, fast forward to the next morning. Read More »

[I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the epitome of prim and proper- heck, who really is nowadays? But looking around at the misguided youths of today *ahem drinking buddies*, I’m starting to think that Miss Manners might have been onto something.

While you may never need to know how to greet a duke or how to tell which fork is REALLY the oyster fork, knowing how to deal with people whom owe you money, how much to tip, and how to address the ever annoying licorice-in-teeth conundrum without being rude might actually come in handy in the real world. I'm not trying to be your mother - oh goodness, no - I'm just here to help you out of those little etiquette dilemmas. So here goes: a quick lesson in etiquette. The sh*t you might actually need to know.]

Just for fun, I’ve decided to lighten up this week’s column with an article on urinal etiquette. I get such a laugh every time a guy friend walks out of a public restroom screaming, “He was staring at my penis!! EVERYONE KNOWS YOU DON’T LOOK AT ANOTHER GUY’S SHLONG!” Come to think of it, this seems to happen an awful lot. Hm.. what does this say about the company I keep? Perhaps I should work on being a little more suspicious of my friends..

Anyway, while I do that, here is some suggested reading for you guys (and interested gals). Since I lack the appendage in question, I had to enlist my dear friend and urinal expert, Justin G., to clue me in. Enjoy! ** Warning: This post is pretty crude. If you’d much rather learn about something a lot daintier, feel free to read up on how to be a good house guest or what to do when you meet his family. Read More »

[Every week, CC and John bring you some of the weirdest, funniest, saddest things he hears on his college campus. Join the Overheard revolution!Leave your own overheard convos in the comments or send ‘em over!]

“Everyone can relate to getting peed on.”

“Yeah, I get peed on all the time.”

“That’s because you pay people to do it.”

“You can’t build a skyscraper on cheese.”

“Are you going to see your puppy this weekend?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s his name?”

“Toby.”

“No it’s not.”

“I’m just swinging this bat. Standing here, swinging this bat. If someone else walks in the way, it’s not my fault. It’s not the bat’s fault. It’s the physics.” Read More »

You know what I’ve always wanted to do? Pee standing up.

Seriously. Growing up with two brothers, I was always jealous of how quickly and easily they could rid themselves of their Yoo-Hoo juice boxes. I tried it a few times (I can’t believe I’m admitting this), but it was far from a success. Unless you consider washing the bathmat and changing my pants a success.

My desire for the speediness peeing standing up allowed only intensified with each passing bathroom line at a party. I attempted to use the men’s room many times – because there is never a line there – but the weird looks and disgusting floors became just too much for me. So I stopped. And I waited in line like a lady while my fellow squatters took their sweet ass time.

It is infuriating, boring and a total buzz kill. But it looks like it may be a problem no longer. Ladies, we can finally pee like the boys do. Read More »

Tiene una pregunta para Tuffita? Email her at tuffylove@collegecandy.com to be featured in her column, which runs every other Tuesday! She’s bi-weekly (wink, wink.)

Dear Tuffy Luv,

My brother Jeremy & I were bedwetters into our late teens. Jeremy until he was 17 & i until i was 18. Jeremy is 2 years younger than me. Our problem is that we wet (soak) the bed when we drink a little too much alcohol, beer in particular. I have wet in my pants on 2 or 3 occasions on the way home from the pub in addition to wetting the bed on those nights. Have you had any e-mails on this problem, or is there anyone out there that has the same problem that may have a solution to this problem? We do have our own apartment at school so we can have rubber sheets on the bed without anyone finding out about us wetting.

Dear Bedwetter,

Oh, honey. Oh. Honey.

Well, first of all, according to the Mayo Clinic, wetting the bed as an adult ain’t great. It’s called “secondary enuresis” and it could mean a whole slew of other possible problems. For inst, it could be diabetes, or bladder cancer, or a neurological problem, or any other number of big baddies.

In other words, get thee (and the Jerster) to a doctor!!! Immediately!!! Read More »