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.

All the benefits of porn aside, though, there are some types you don’t want to find. I’m not even talking about anal, little people or ridiculously oversized toys (all pretty normal in porn-world.) I’m talking animals. I’m talking leprechaun-on mermaid-on Easter bunny 3-ways. I’m talking about really flattering pictures of you superimposed over the faces of “interacting” nuns (definitely not real Catholics). Unless your man has previously shared his kink-tastic ways with you, skeevy porn is definitely something you do not want to find in your man’s room…unless you’re into it…

2. Bloody Clothes.

You’d think this would be a pretty huge red flag, but there are plenty of excuses as to why your man might have bloody clothes in his room. Perhaps he is an outdoorsman who enjoys slaughtering deer on weekends. Maybe he was building you a birdhouse and things went seriously wrong with the electrical sander. Or, for those of use with the more typical college boyfriend, he was drunk and tripped on/punched/tried to cartwheel over something and got hurt doing it. All of those reasons aside, should you find a duffel bag with a black turtleneck, jogging pants, ski mask and/or machete covered in blood, run for the hills, girl.

3. A Shrine-Like Gathering of Your Personal Items.

Remember Helga from “Hey! Arnold”? Yea, the crazy blonde who built a very realistic rendition of Arnold out of his used gum. Well you just found a creepily similar statue tucked behind your man’s winter coats. It’s a great complement to the ring of scented votives in a circle around the pair of panties you wore the first time you two hooked up (you knew they went missing…), a suspiciously your-hair-colored hairball, pictures of you undressing that look like they were taken from a distance and old love letters…to your ex-boyfriends, dating back to Aaron from 4th grade. I can’t see how this would be construed as flattering, so don’t even let that thought enter your head, ladies – Noah built Allie a house, not a shrine. Hint: if you find this in his closet, I’d start looking around for the bloody clothes, just to be sure…

4. His “Meds.”

If one day you are innocently on the hunt for some ibuprofen and you find his prescription for anti-psychosis meds, it’s probably not a great sign. If you continue to look for more pills that he neglected to tell you he was on and find a cocktail of Xanax, Percocets, Valtrex and Penicillin it’s definitely a bad sign. Either homeboy has some serious dirt to spill about his last few check-ups, or you might just be dating a drug dealer. Either way, not disclosing certain ailments he has (STD’s, mental disorders, the usual) is a serious breach of trust and needs to be dealt with right away. My suggestion is to call the cops on his RX-happy ass or, if you’re into illegal activity and desperately in need of Spring Break funds, swipe ‘em and ask your most trusted sketchy friend where a gal goes about selling these kinds of things.

5. His other phone.

We all know that going through a loved one’s phone is a huge invasion of privacy and can often end in a breakup (as opposed to going through a stranger’s phone that you found at Happy Hour before returning it to them, which can often end in hilarity.) But let’s say you’re just lounging around one morning that you skipped class, watching some Ellen while your honey picks up bagels for some breakfast in bed. You hear a strange humming, it’s not your phone, and you check his charger—nope, not his phone either. But this vibration is pretty persistent, almost as persistent as an ex-girlfriend trying to get in touch with your boyfriend…

With this hunch, you get up to investigate, put Ellen on mute, and walk around the room listening for the bzzzz. You slowly open his sock drawer, where a mysterious blue light is glowing from the dress sock section (ok he probably doesn’t have his socks categorized, but you get it). You pick up a phone that you’ve never seen before. Michelle Great Rack is calling. You answer, presumably to help this Michelle put her great rack to use with whoever this phone really belongs to, only to have her coo your boyfriend’s name in a very phone-sex inducing voice. After explaining to Michelle that she and her rack have been aiding a cheating lying scumbag, you sift through dirty texts, inappropriate pictures, and AIM conversations so smooth your soon to be ex could be in a shaving cream commercial. You forward a few choice messages to your guy’s “legit” phone before calling him and telling him what you found in his room.

What would make you run screaming from your man’s apartment? Have you ever found any of the above items? Did you stick around long enough to tell him why you won’t be sleeping over anymore?

It’s not that I don’t know where time went; it went towards the long class lectures, te bar-hopping, the “Tennis Pros and Golf Hoes” parties, the blizzard sledding (and subsequent frostbite), the jello-shot making, the endless Sex and the City viewings, the random hook-ups, the awkward morning-afters, and the all-day brunch recaps. And while I’ll leave college with amazing memories and textbooks the bookstore refused to take back, I’ll also leave with no idea of what I’m going to do with my life (and how I’m going to afford it.)

So, even though I have an entire semester left, I can’t stop myself from stressing myself into oblivion as I sit in my room with growing anxiety. I WebMD-ed myself to figured out what my problem was and all I came up with was a diagnosis that gave me a month to live. (Sidenote: I have to stop using WebMD.) My mom claims this is normal, my friends are experiencing the same thing, and yet I can’t help asking around for Xanax.

But apparently the health center doesn’t prescribe Xanax as freely as they write out pregnancy diagnoses, so I went with my only other option – blogging – in hopes another senior feels the same way. So every time I have a panic attack about being an adult or a wave of nostalgia that sends me for one last bathroom-tastic meal in the dining hall, I’ll be writing.

This guy has been collecting penii for 24 years. It started out as a casual hobby–you know, like stamp collecting–and at some point he got the idea to share his love with the world via a weirdass museum in an Icelandic fishing village.

FACT: When the dude began his penis collection, he was working as a school administrator.

FACT: That fact makes me extremely uncomfortable.

Anyway, so far he only has animal weewees (largest: sperm whale [how apropos], smallest: hamster [you need a microscope to see it; sounds like my exboyfriend]). However, four human men have now offered to hand in theirs when they retire to the big penis museum in the sky. Naturally, one of these men is an American, and, naturally, he’s nicknamed his man hooha “Elmo,” which is just so charming.

So when you go to Iceland to check out this museum (which you are likely to do: apparently 60% of the visitors are women), you don’t have to worry because it’s really easy to find. According to the article, the “entrance marked by a tall brown phallus near the door and a penis-shaped sign over the front porch.” Classy.

I can’t wait to go.

Before I leave you to mull all of this over (and frankly, I think this needs a lot of mulling…and a lot of xanax), allow me to give you one final image: some of the penii are “dried and mounted on the wall.”

Lesson learned: don’t have sex with a hamster. At least not knowingly.

(Just couldn’t resist that title pun)

Al Gore III (could they really not think of another name?) was arrested early Wednesday in LA for speeding, and when the cops stopped the son of our recent Vice President, they found a whole slew of no no’s inside his vehicle.

Besides a small baggie of marijuana, Third Time’s the Charm was carrying “a variety of prescription drugs, including Xanax, Valium, Vicodin and Adderall.”

Wow. I’ve never known anyone who was depressed, hyperactive, in pain, and unable to concentrate all at once. Either Gore III has a lot of disorders, or enjoys taking prescription drugs without a prescription and then jumping in a car and driving 100 miles per hour.

Considering the cops were unable to find doctor’s notes for any of the pills, chances are chubby was doing the second thing.

Looks like the Gore name is gonna get a little tarnished.

But only in the illegal sense. The family is still eco-friendly. On the night of his arrest, chubby was driving a blue Toyota Prius.