There have been a lot of things going on in the world lately that have made me shake my head and shout, “I don’t want to live on this planet anymore!”
As a child of the ‘90s, I was able to experience many amazing events. I was born in 1991, which allowed me to experience the majority of the glorious decade.
Bullying is a nonissue. Rather, it is symptom of a much larger issue: men not being men.
I’m still suffering spinal pain from my biking accident in January.
There are a few types of hot dudes in this world. There are the super-duper hot ones, the ones who know they’re super-duper hot and use smooth talking and devastatingly good looks to distract you from the fact they’re giant tools.
When asked to describe myself in five words or less, ideally I’d like to say I am intelligent, charismatic, attractive, witty and passionate or “I am usually always hungry.”
Fall is my favorite time of year. The days are getting shorter, leaves are turning a brilliant shade of spray- tan orange and the country is once again inundated with a familiar pack of rabid beasts. I’m talking, of course, about football fans.
In many ways I liken my life to a movie. Most of the time, I’m the hilarious sidekick always getting in the good punch lines and never really having any substantial romantic leads.
I was living alone the fall semester of my junior year at San Diego State when a couple of old high school friends called to tell me they’d transferred and were renting a one-bedroom near campus.
In my ever-present quest to keep up with everything pop-culture related, I found myself reading “Fifty Shades of Grey” this summer.
“The truth is not for all men, but only for those who seek it.”-Ayn Rand
Now that I’ve stopped smoking, I’m aware of the disgruntled expressions my friends hid from me while I had a cigarette in hand.