[Every week, CC and John will 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.]

“So this sandwich – portabello and provolone, I mean, it should have been good — but I mean, it was, like, a slab of provolone. Like, exactly a blob. Like I was trying to eat a brick. And so then I ate it, and I went back to my room, and I threw it up, and it was like ‘Yup, now I get to have dinner again’.”

“My mom, you know, she’s pretty, but she’s not that pretty.”

“Yesterday, I did that thing where – you know? You’re, like, Wal-mart, and you’re Halloween shopping, but you end up in that weird kinda retail fog. And so you go, hey, furniture, maybe I want a … futon, and hey, mechanical stuff… I want some turpentine, and then you walk around some more and then you’re outside and it turns out all you bought was an industrial size thing of Cheez-Puffs.” Read More »

If there’s one thing in this world I know, it’s this: You gotta know your limit.

I don’t mean like how smart you are or how hard to push yourself when you’re working out or anything trivial like that. I’m talking about knowing how much you can drink.

One day a few months ago, a friend invited me out for a night of dancing and fun. I thought, hey, yes, I like dancing and fun. This will be excellent.

Cut to me four hours later in a blackout state, still dancing but question mark else? I don’t know because I was f*&cking wasted.

All I know is, I threw up in the bathroom of that club. And then I threw up in a diner afterwards. Twice. And then I think I took a cab home and went to sleep, but I know for sure that four hours later, I woke up and puked on and off for five hours, into my toilet, into plastic grocery bags, and all over myself. In fact, I vommed so much I burst a blood vessel, giving myself what I have affectionately termed zombeye. Zombeye, a bright red bloody eye, lasted two entire weeks. Read More »