Does anyone else find it highly disturbing that it’s not even August and the networks are rolling out the “Back to School” specials and commercials? Maybe I’m just in denial, maybe I want summer to stretch on forever, but it definitely seems too soon to head back to school.
Remember when you were little and you and your friends would play make-believe games? Of course you do (maybe you and your friends still do - this is a no judging zone). I remember a particular game that could be played anywhere from our Kindergarten classroom’s “kitchen," to refrigerator boxes in our backyards.
Oh air travel, how I despise thee. All flight delays/massive airport navigation/stinky seatmates aside though, I am actually very (very) excited to be flying into DC tomorrow. I’ve never been, and I’m so pumped to explore our nation’s great capital.
So Monday was David’s 23rd birthday (!). I finally found the perfect gift and decided to get him this sweet watch he saw while I was perusing a magazine last month. I also picked up a really cool video game for him-but it turns out he already had it. Yea, massive gift fail on that one, but he was excited about the watch and already exchanged the game for one he doesn’t already own...
I don’t know about you guys, but when I get home after a long day of interning, working, and gymming, all I want to do is eat dinner and zone out to one of the thousands of Real Housewives or Say Yes to the Dress episodes I have DVR’ed. Unfortunately, my live-in boyfriend isn’t on the same page. Especially now that it’s baseball season.
About 3 weeks ago, David and I were laying in bed on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon, nursing epic hangovers from a Happy Hour that lasted far too many hours. After eating an entire pizza and deciding we were too lazy even to go rent a movie, we channel surfed, trying to find something we could both agree on. Naturally we settled on a marathon of Flip This House (can anyone ever get enough of Armando Montelongo? C’mon, just saying his name puts me in a great mood).
Jun 17, 2010
While the rest of the world is inundated with ads encouraging them to get “slim by summer”, us college ladies are on a slightly different page. You see, for the many of us that aren’t taking summer classes, summer is a time to kick it a little bit slower, relax (while we’re not working or interning), and escape the constant pressure of being surrounded by young, good looking people 24/7.
Jun 15, 2010
Every year, by the time the second week in June rolls around, two things happen to me. 1) I start obsessively checking my calendar to make sure that Father’s Day isn’t this Sunday and 2) I start freaking out about what to get David for his birthday.
Jun 10, 2010
Yesterday, as I waited in line to check out at the grocery store, I realized I was holding my breath. It wasn’t due to the woman behind me who believed in liberal application of Dolce & Gabanna Light Blue. No, no - I was waiting for the cashier to let me know what my bill for the week was.
Since I was little, I’ve loved writing. After I picked up that red crayon to write my first story I’ve been hooked. This led to an easy answer to the increasingly meaningful question “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Until recently, I always knew I wanted to write; then last September I had a kick-ass media law teacher and decided to be a lawyer.
Ah, Date Night, that savior of sanity for those in long term relationships. As enjoyable as it is to snuggle up in bed/futon/couch with your honey watching Comedy Night Done Right, it gets old after a few weeks (or a few months, depending on how hilarious you find Michael Scott and Jack Donaghy). David and I were starting to itch for some company other than those who work at Dunder Mifflin, so last weekend he planned us a good ol’ fashioned date night.
Last week I arrived home from a long semester of stressful classes, crazy busy sorority officer responsibilities, and some semblance of a poppin’ social life. I was thrilled to be home and free from the hectic world of a college woman, but I was (and still am) most excited about the prospect of spending an entire, almost uninterrupted, 3 months with David. He graduated last December, and while we survived our first semester of LDR, the bi-weekly 6-hour trips to visit each other were wearing on both our cars’ mileage and our nerves.
Even though this month's Cosmo is all about the new year, it just included more of the same old: a feature on Girl-on-Top, a few pointers on how to get hot guys naked, and their annual Bedside Astrologer (!!). It also featured a two page lingerie spread with advice from the Victoria’s Secret Angels…then continued to reference VS like 6 more times throughout the issue.
So, I know this month’s Cosmo Says is fashionably late (blame it on a premature reaction to Tryptophan), but it's here now. And you should be happy because not only was the December issue chock full of goodies, but now you have something to distract you while your little cousins run around your house screaming and you attempt to digest that 3lbs of stuffing you just inhaled.
Alright guys, I’m gonna level with you: I’m a big fan of the brewskies. I like Sam Adams Pumpkin Ale, Sweetwater 420, the occasional stein of Newcastle, and the slightly more frequent funnel full of Bud Light. I particularly like that I can drink copious amounts of beer without the consequences that would come from drinking the same amount of vodka, water & lime.
If you go to college, chances are you’ve eaten at a dining hall. You’ve experienced gourmet menu items such as “liquid mashed potatoes” and “Sahara-dry chicken." And as delightful as your dining experience was, chances are you felt the results of that extra serving of corn a short time later as you were flooring it for the communal bathroom.
My dearest Cosmo has always had a special affinity for body language analysis (I think they’ve done Speidi like 6 times). Now they’re taking it to the next level and making it all easy, convenient and user-friendly for you! Cosmo understands the trials and tribulations of dating, especially when we need to figure out the bizarre and complex behavior of the male species.
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.