My school is famous for our Halloween debauchery. Every year literally tens of thousands of members of the under-25 crowd dress up (or down) to parade along Del Playa Drive in varying levels of consciousness. Halloween is like the senior prom of college (four years in a row).
Alright everyone. I owe you an apology. Last week's article made no sense. Is she done? What happened? Did she mess up? Why is she crying? Just be? What does that mean?? This is really not very man-free!
In my history of interaction with the opposite sex, I have found the first to be true. Since I started dating the guy that would be come my long-term boyfriend of three years right before my Junior year of high school, there has been a steady stream of guys coming and going in my life. (Insert dirty pun here?) Whether we were just "talking," dating, or hooking up, I've seldom gone a few months without any kind of male interest.
Last week while I hopped on the treadmill for my afternoon jog, I looked next to me and spotted some guy wearing these. I thought it might be some sort of joke - they did look rather similar to gorilla feet, and that's sorta funny - until I saw another guy walk in wearing similar shoes. (Or whatever you'd call them....)
Mar 29, 2010
Ladies, in honor of National Eating Disorders Awareness Week, it's time to ask ourselves, "Do I?" and "Am I?" It's about looking at our own lives, and figuring out what's healthy and what's not.
Feb 25, 2010
It's the hushed whispers in the floor bathroom after a girl walks out. It's skipping meals and doubling up on gym time. It's body-bashing other people's and your own body with your friends. It's losing friends and alienating people. It's taking a risk with your health. It's keeping quiet. It's time to talk about it!
Feb 22, 2010
With the start of a new quarter comes the excitement of new classes and a new schedule. And new TAs. While my friends are frantically researching classes that both fill their requirements and leave Friday open, I'm zoning out at my desk dreaming (and praying) about a tall, handsome, smart, romantic, witty discussion leader.
We all love to talk about metabolism. A lot. Some of us love it (like that girl who never goes to the gym and eats french fries for every meal and somehow still wears a size 00) and some of us hate it (when we eat an apple and our thighs starts rubbing together). But does anyone really know what metabolism is or how it works?
I could eat my own weight in Grandma’s “Won’t Fail Fudge,” but do I really want to carry around an extra me in 2010? Not exactly. Spring comes quick here in Santa Barbara, so bikinis and spring runs are just around the corner. If you’re located somewhere where you’ll be wearing large sweaters for the next four months – lucky you! (I guess?)
Unless you consider yourself "a runner," (you know who you are) running can kind of suck. A lot. Sometimes it feels great to feel the wind through your hair and know that you left the equivalent of a 5K in the dust, no sweat. Other times, you barely make it to the end of your block before thoughts of turning home to the comfort and safety of your couch and DVR creep into your head.
Typically, the weight room on college campuses is the “man’s domain” (as we control the cardio machine kingdom), so walking in there - never-mind actually using different machines while frat guys look on with tongues hanging out - seems less than appealing for many women. You think I'm gonna do some squats while that meat head looks on? No thank you.
My Italian Nana had seven children. Seven. Needless to say, she was the queen of easy recipes and delicious meals made from the leftover scraps of last night's dinner. Now, I'm pretty sure none of you people have 7 kids, but you do have a full course-load and weekends spent laying in bed watching TV.
We talk about pumpkin around here a LOT. A lot, a lot. But we can't help it; the stores and restaurants only bring out their pumpkin goodness for a few months every year and we're trying to soak up as much of the tasty goodness as we can before it goes away. And we're left with nothing. Except winter-induced Seasonal Affect Disorder. Sigh.