When you live in a world where the Jersey Turnpike is the dance move of choice and having a fluorescent orange hue radiating off of your skin ensures a trip to the smush room, some changes need to be made.

Bring the “skirt” back to mini skirts. Now don’t get me wrong – mini skirts can look fabulous when worn the right way. They’re figure-flattering, sleek, and make your legs look a mile longer than usual. The problem is that the actual “skirt” part of the mini skirt has become essentially non-existent.  If you drop your phone and need to bend over to pick it up, save the crowd a couple bucks and make your skirt a couple of inches longer next time.

The sailor trend is hot, however cussing like a sailor is not. Wear your fabulous nautical prints and boat shoes all you want, but when it comes to saying “ahoy” to your mateys, leave the words your mother wouldn’t approve of out of the conversation. The instant a swear word comes out of your mouth, you go from looking like a class act to someone who is just asking for a nice stroll off the plank.

See-food belongs in the ocean. As much as the people around you most likely love getting smacked in the face with the chunks of food flying out of your mouth, it’s highly recommended that you keep your digestion process to yourself. When you’re home alone with your cat, gorge away, but when you’re in the presence of other human beings, keep those chompers behind closed doors.

Keep your ABC’s in the classroom. As much fun as your funbags may be, keep those kiddies put away. A little cleavage is fine, but when you pull a Janet Jackson every time you go out with the girls, you may want to leave a little for the imagination.

Too much P-D-A is a major N-O. Kissing your boy toy in front of your friends is cute. Giving his tush a little squeeze is sexy. But sticking your tongues down each other’s throats mid-conversation with a group of people may make for a very gag-worthy performance.

We’ve all seen or have unfortunately been one of the ladies behaving badly, reaching the level of trashy that even garbage men wouldn’t approve of, but it’s never too late to clean up our acts.

The time you head out the door in your five-inch heels and booty shorts (or are going Gaga-style with no shorts at all), remember – Justin Timberlake brought sexy back. And if you like following in JT’s footsteps as much as we do (mostly because of the nice view), sexy will be back faster than you went out to buy an *NSYNC CD in 4^th grade. Yes, that fast.

Girls with tattoos get a bad rap these days. They are associated with “don’t mess with me” bad ass chicks, trashy/skanky girls, and hippie-love-child wannabes. But I want a tattoo and I am none of those things.

I’ve been thinking long and hard about permanently tagging myself, but I can’t seem to commit to it. There is so much to consider, tattoos being permanent and all, and the last thing I want is to regret my decision. Or end up with 56 stars on my face.

On the one hand, I agree with Angelina Jolie when she said, “A tattoo is something permanent when you’ve made a self-discovery, or something you’ve come to a conclusion about…and a strong reminder to live fully in the moment.” At the same time, though, I also agree with my friend’s brother who said, “Imagine getting scrunch socks tattooed on your legs in the early 90′s. Would you want that there now?”

Touch, bro. Touche.

So, let’s break down the pros and cons of the tat.

It Will Be On You Forever

The bad: Obviously, a trademark of a tattoo is that it’s permanent, which is part of both its charm and its demise. I know a girl who got an enormous tattoo on her ribcage and half of her stomach. Let’s be real here, people are living pretty damn long these days, which means stupid adages to “live fast, die fun” will be stuck on their (considerably more flabby and wrinkly) torsos for just as long.

The good: Some tattoos are chosen simply for their permanence, such as getting your significant other permanently scrolled across your arm to proclaim your everlasting love (right Johnny Depp?), or for someone you lost, a part of your heritage, or something that means a lot to you. If placed in a strategic location, who cares if something important to you is on you forever? That’s the point!

It Will Generate Attention

The bad: Let’s face it, a lot of girls with tattoos are the same people who wear shirts that say “Drink Til He’s Cute” and will likely attempt a bar fight with you for looking at her man wrong. In other words: they want people to look at ‘em. Getting butterflies, flowers or dolphins inked in a visible location (i.e. lower back) is just begging guys to stare. And judge you.

The good: Nothing screams “I am spontaneous and interesting” like a well-positioned, unique and understated tattoo. Afterball, tattoos are like stories on your body, each having an inherent meaning. I know a guy who chased after this girl simply for her little Chinese character on her lower hip because she just seemed “so much cooler than the girls he was used to.”

It Is A Work Of Art

The bad: Apparently not all tattoo artists are on the same level. I know a few people who have received bad tattoos and deeply regret them. One girl got stars tattooed right above her vajay (I know – really poor decision…) and the guy doing them totally messed up (maybe because he was so close to her vajay). But even the best tattoos can bleed or fade, leaving your beautiful looking like more of an eyesore than eye candy.

The good: Gotta love that freedom of expression. What many people forget is that tattooing is one of the oldest and most widely practiced forms of artwork. Also, tattooing an original design onto your body is an unparalleled mode of expression and can be liberating. The uniqueness and value you and others assign to tattoos is the part that matters.

Though I can usually throw together something appropriate for work or special events, about half of my clothing inventory consists of utterly ridiculous garments. It doesn’t help that I’m sentimental and can’t discard my prom dresses five years later, or that I’m waiting for certain trends to come back (though I’m pretty sure sparkly, sleeveless, turtleneck sweaters were never in style to begin with). And it definitely doesn’t help that I went through a goth/punk phase that a small part of the “professional” me desperately wants to revert back to.

As we all get ready for back to school, many of us will rummage through our closets and get rid of last season’s most shameful shirts, skirts, dresses, and pants in order to make room in our tiny dorm closets for upcoming styles (that we will undoubtedly regret in 2009 or 2010).

Here are some of my particularly embarrassing items.

1. Drawstring Khakis

I think that any pants that don’t have a numerical size should be left alone. So, why I bought these “Size L” drawstring pants with floral embroidery at the bottom is beyond me. They don’t go with any shoes, the trim is tacky, and they are so baggy that they make my ass look like a misshaped Volvo. I used to wear them to lounge around, because a lack of a waist obviously equals comfort; however, I made the mistake of wearing them out of the house one extremely hungover day. In public. With friends. My friend turned to me and said, “If you ever wear those pants again, I will cut them off your body.” Point taken.

Final Decision: Toss ‘em.

2. Early 2,000′s skirt from Wet Seal

In my high school yearbook, I was photographed for Amnesty International wearing a purple skirt from Wet Seal with a paisley-ish print and purple sequins along the bottom. I still own that skirt, and I still wear it. So, first of all, the skirt is practically vintage; second, I am far too old to shop at Wet Seal; third, it’s left over from freaking high school.

The strangest part? When I wear it, I get an avalanche of compliments. Everyone says I look pretty, they love my skirt, blah blah blah. Who knew?

Final Decision: It’s a keeper!

3. Girls’ Size 14 Hannah Montana Dress

Here’s a tip for all of you shopaholics out there: Don’t go shopping with a very strong buzz on. You might decide to buy a dress from the little girls’ department of Mervyn’s.

This monstrosity is a silver A-line dress with a black netting overlay, and Miley Cyrus’ face emblazoned on the front left side. In my drunken shopping stupor, it seemed like a great dress to own! Sadly, it’s already gotten worn twice this summer: once to a bar, where it actually got a lot of compliments, and once to a “Hot Tranny Mess” theme party.

Final Decision: I definitely won’t wear this to a job interview, but you never know when an opportunity to dress as “Post-Op Hannah MonTRANa” will arise. Keep it.

4. White and Green Floral Strapless Dress from David’s Bridal

I bought this dress for a wedding last summer. What’s so shameful about it? Well, in the last year, I lost enough weight that my chi chi’s can no longer hold the top up.

Furthermore, this pattern was apparently all the rage for bridal parties last year. So while the dress itself is simple and pretty, I’ve since seen many wedding albums on Facebook in which the bridesmaids are all wearing this dress. And knowing the way people talk about bridesmaid dress nightmares, owning the same dress (and picking it out myself!) is just shameful.

So basically, the thing doesn’t fit, it totally outs my “I’m not afraid to wear last season this season” mantra, and wherever I wear it, I run the risk of someone coming up to me and gushing about how they wore the same dress as a bridesmaid in a wedding.

Final Decision: Time to toss it.

5. My collection of FCUK t-shirts

Let me begin by mentioning that all of my French Connection tees were purchased IN the United Kingdom, and it drives me crazy to see “Too Busy to FCUK” t-shirts sold in the U.S. because that would make it FCUSA, wouldn’t it??

Anyway, during my stint in England a few years ago, the FCUK puns were at their peak. I have a “Guaranteed FCUK” shirt, a “Too Busy to FCUK” shirt, and a “Do I FCUK” shirt. I also have a “FCUK Down Under” shirt that a friend bought me in Australia, but again, if it wasn’t bought in the UK, it should really say “FCOZ” down under, or whatever you would call Australia. Whatever.

Not only are the shirts mildly inappropriate to wear in public (especially around grandmothers and children), but it’s really hard to find a good size. I’ve tried on Mediums and Larges, and they just don’t quite make the grade. I also have an extra-Large tank top that says, “Massive Hits…FCUK FM” straight across my massive tits, but I don’t even wear XL sizes anyway.

Final Decision: I should toss them, but they remind me of fun times in Picadilly Circus. So I will fold them, store them, and promise to never wear them. As an even trade-off, I will get rid of my “Hooters: Off-Campus” t-shirt and matching Hooters gym shorts. Is that fair?

Because 2008 isn’t just the summer of expensive corn and Obama-rama, it’s also the summer of TMI. Over-sharing has become a form of communication for our generation; from blogging about bad dates, to blogging about our self-indulgent issues, to blogging purely to become famous. No matter who we are, we can become stars overnight by uploading naked photos, name-dropping about a wild party, or simply having an ounce of literary ability and a snarky way with words.

By late July, 2008, the percent of people in the US who haven’t seen a celebrity vajayjay flash or heard someone say, “dude, I’m gonna blog about this!” is monumentally small, and it seems like every day a new gossip or 24 hour news site pops up. However, amidst the clattering of fingers on keyboards and snapping of flashbulbs, I can’t help but wonder if this constant need to be seen and heard is actually doing us any good.

Is all this over-sharing about our drug, drink, and sexual exploits really helping women cultivate a strong, intelligent persona? Do we feel more empowered now that Britney, Lindsay, and Paris have made trashy the new black? Are our lives more complete now that we know what David Beckham had for breakfast?

These aren’t rhetorical questions. As a twenty-something myself, I really want to know:

In this age of over-sharing, are you confident about yourself and your image? Are you proud of how we as women have represented ourselves in the media?

Vote in our poll, and write in our comments — this is your chance to tell the world exactly how you feel.

Unlike my other colleagues here at CollegeCandy, when I was just a wee lass (that’s what you probably say now, and in a faux English accent, right?), I used to love you. I did. I was a fan. I loved your bangles, your lacy short socks, your polka-dotted headbands, your frizzy half-bleached blond hair, your apparent smelliness. I always imagined your scent to be a strong B.O., mixed with garlic, in “Borderline,” “Papa Don’t Preach,” and “Lucky Star.”

I adored your trashy “I’m-a-punky-girl-from-NYC” look, and when you spray painted stuff all over those Grecian statues, you were great! Of course, at the tender age of five, I didn’t realize that your look, your “raunchy NYC city-ness” was all totally faux, too. But that’s OK. Even though I know that you’re from Michigan, I’m still all right with that.

I even followed your music through the rougher spots, when it was icky as hell. I didn’t mind the whole India-moment (you were obviously doing a lot of soul searching), or the confusion you seemed to experience when you put out your last album (roller skates? Disco balls? Huh?). Remember all that silliness? You wore way too much disco-stuff and had Farrah Fawcett hair, even though the music didn’t sound a lick like something from the 70s.

But even that was OK. At least I could jog on the treadmill, and sweat myself to death, listening to your album, and tolerate it. (Although, the song about NYC, I think it’s track 5, was friggin’ awful. Who decided to keep that on there? Bad, bad, bad choice . . . I almost always fall off the treadmill around mile 2 when that f*&%$ song comes on – it’s a safety hazard!)

I’ve even ignored the critiques of why you decided to skip over the pond and settle in Merry Ol’ England. Pssst. Have you heard what they’ve said? People say it’s because your celebrity had all but dried up here, and that it was an attempt to regain famousness or something. Whatever. That’s fine. I’ve seen your castle, so I understand. If I had oodles of money like you, I’d kill to live in a castle with stables (I used to ride hunter jumper, so I get it.)

So, you see, Madge, I’ve overlooked A LOT of stuff that many think I shouldn’t have. There is, however, one thing I CANNOT and WILL NOT ignore. I will rant about it here on my blog letter to you, too.

WHY MUST YOU CONTINUE KISSING WOMEN?!?!? WHY?!?!?!? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!?!?!? WHAT IS WITH THIS CRAP?!?!?

I mean, fine. You kissed Britney Spears, like, 10 years ago. Funny, that happened a little before her life and star power crumbled to the horror of tweens and adults.

Whatever. It was some HUGE deal, ’cause you’re the MADONNA of today (inverting all holiness) and she’s the little pop princess, brutally manufactured and stripped of a real life by her 40-something ueber-male management team and her revolting momma. I do wonder…were you sucking out her soul? Is that why Brit-Brit fell from her pop princess pillar?

Moving on…Here you are AGAIN, kissing some dancer chica. Sorry, dancer lady, that sounds sexist, but look at you, too! Madonna stuck her slithering white tongue down your throat! That makes you a little Chiquita in my book, so you’re to blame for the dismissive label(s), I’ve slapped onto you here.

To be sure, I couldn’t care less that it’s a picture of two women kissing. Whatever. If this were a picture of two unknown and (hopefully) happy lesbians, great. Good for them. But it’s yet another picture of you, Madonna, kissin’ a chick. It’s stupid. It’s not shocking, because it’s downright dumb. You’re NOT shocking us anymore, because you’re OVER. Why do I care? I care because I’m embarrassed for you. You are so obviously out of touch. This is comin’ from a tried and true fan, Madge! You’re painfully oblivious and this picture is proof!

Also, what’s with the arms?!? Is this yet another sign of your mid-life crisis or WHAT? You’re grabbin’ this dancer, as if you were a strong-armed dude, or have the mentality of a guy who just looked in the mirror and realized that he’s going bald, and for real! While you’re not a dude, you’re a frightfully strong-armed woman. Sh*t! If I were your children, I’d be super scared of those muscles. Do you have a meaner hook than her hubby? I bet you do…

What’s even more annoying, you won’t allow your own children to watch T.V. Yet you made your millions upon millions of dollars through manipulating, changing, re-inventing YOUR image on the TELEVISION. But then again, would you want Lourdes to see you here, suckin’ this lady’s soul out of her little dancer body? Probably not.

I beg you. Please, please stop doing this.

With all of my love and revulsion,

your ol’ fan,

C. Ryder

The tacky tabloid is reporting that Ms. Insane’s photo shoot and interview with OK! Magazine went so badly that the publishers are deciding whether “to report what actually happened—or sanitize the truth to protect the pop train wreck.”

Apparently, the mother of two was acting strange throughout the entire interview, and escaped “to the bathroom” a number of times, coming back from each trip a little more whacked out than before.

When the photographers tried to get Spears into hair and make-up, she “refused to let the hired help touch her” and insisted that her “friends” (whoever those brave souls are at this point) do her up the way she always looks these days—trashy and cheap.

TMZ goes on to report that after ordering some fried chicken, Spears “wiped her hands on a several thousand dollar Gucci dress that she was wearing for the shoot” and later cleaned up her dog’s poop with another designer dress that wasn’t hers.

An “insider” with OK! also claims that the pictures taken of Brit were “so bad” that the magazine is trying to figure out if they should publish them or not.

While B. Spears has certainly proven herself a strange, irrational being in the last couple of months, this report by TMZ makes her seem like some kind of Frankenstein-esque, uneducated she-monster. Could the “Toxic” star really be going off the deep end, or is this just another example of a trashy tabloid stretching the truth till it resembles something else?

As for me, I’m going to hope for the best for Brit, but prepare myself to accept the worst. After all, hooker clothes don’t exactly scream calm and levelheaded.

As if college life wasn’t hard enough, your late-nite boozing binges, questionable hook-ups and prof pranks are soon to become public record at New York University. According to gawker.com, a new trashy gossip site focused on the lifestyles of NYU students and faculty is in the works at TheU.com.

“Some of their post ideas were the 100 hottest NYU students (“but in an edgy, sarcastic way!”), who’s the biggest Adderall user on campus, and “crazy shit we’re sure happens at NYU!” Like dorm pervs, maybe?”

Yikes, this could be dangerous. I mean, we’ve all heard about how much trouble those drunken jackasses in the RV had getting jobs after Borat hit the big screen- A site like this certainly can’t be good for the career.

Sounds pretty gorgeous to me.