I’m writing this at a kid’s birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese’s. I haven’t been to Chuck E. Cheese’s in awhile, and I remember it a lot differently. For one, when I was 7 years old I wasn’t getting hit on by single dads. Actually, I don’t recall any of the miserable adults in general. But now that I am one, I want you to meet them.
As you are reading this, I am in Las Vegas. In fact, I’ve been here since Tuesday night.
There is a good chance that by now I’m in the middle of a shenanigans-filled quest to relocate Edward somewhere in the greater Clark County area after a night no one remembers.
Ah, spring. The birds are chirping, the tulips are in bloom and the sky is an endless baby blue. Yes, springtime is the season of love. It makes me quiver in sheer delight. This is where I am right now in my quest for love: I am making a female alter ego on Facebook who will write flirty comments on my wall in my dire hope that the girl I actually like will see them and suddenly like me. Yes, the tidings of spring fare well for this one.
I tend to judge people pretty quickly based solely on their Facebook profile pictures. Why? Because I can. There may be 400 million people using Facebook, but there are only seven basic profile pictures. I can prove it. I bet yours falls into one of these categories. It’s a science.
Fellow students, I am happy to announce the Winter Olympics have finally ended. Sometime between watching U.S. figure skater Johnny Weir emasculate himself as he pranced with his fur and feather-covered costume, and the always disappointing winter cross-country, it finally hit me — the Winter Olympics are mind-numbingly dull. There must be a better way.
So you may recall, as I presume these columns are a memorable focal point of everyone’s life, that last week I wrote about a topic near and dear to my heart: drunk texting. I mentioned that sending a text saying, “I don’t know what your middle name is” is a perfect first text. That was a terrible mistake.
My brother Chuck loves Taylor Swift. He’s a 23-year-old 2nd lieutenant in the U.S. Army. When I mockingly asked him why he likes her music so much, he told me he’s secure with his sexuality.
When it comes to privacy, I like to think of myself as an old-fashioned kind of girl. There are some discussions meant to be held in public areas, and some that should be left for more personal settings, such as therapy or “The Jerry Springer Show.” However, I know for some it’s tough to know exactly where to fight with your “baby mama” about child support and what to leave out of the conversation when you’re meeting your boyfriend’s parents.
Like many of you students out there, I have what experts in the automotive field call a POS: a car that stalls while driving over the simplest of hills, goes from 0 to 60 mph in a brisk minute and a half, and has more miles on the speedometer than several third-world countries’ GDPs.
Yesterday, my esteemed colleague and hetero life-partner, Edward Lewis, turned 21 years old. To celebrate, we went out to Effin’s at midnight on Tuesday, which I suppose is technically Wednesday — whatever. My point is the first thing Edward said to me this morning was, “So, at one point last night, I was sitting on my toilet, vomiting into my bathtub.” Success.
I recently read about a guy who went to a “Star Wars” convention dressed as Mr. Spock. He was hospitalized after being beaten unconscious. Did you get that? One nerd was given a concussion when a bunch of other nerds hit him with their PVC-pipe lightsabers. That’s just sad. Actually, the saddest part was when I told my boyfriend, he responded by saying, “Well, that proves it, ‘Star Wars’ is better.”
I saw “Avatar” for the first time the other day. Here’s what happened when I walked out of the theater: I took a look around, sighed and realized how utterly mundane life was. But that only lasted for about an hour; then my life got exciting again. Because my middle name’s Adventure.
This is my seventh or eighth year in college, and I have a 2.003 overall grade point average. No joke. Not long ago I was forced to declare a major, one of those that San Diego State allows undergraduates that have less-than-stellar GPAs to pick. I figured it was time to start doing some research.
I love the Winter Olympics. I really do. But based on the lack of curling references popping up in my Facebook news feed, it seems that not everyone else shares my excitement. To be honest, I really don’t care about any event other than hockey, so how do I enjoy the games so much? Contrarianism, that’s how. Better known on the streets as, “being a hater.”
Are you a baller on a budget? Lately, I’ve been looking for ways to save money as a college student. Let’s face it, many of us are strapped for dough. Here are a few things to consider if you’re interested in getting the most bang for your buck.
I hate opening presents. You are probably thinking I am crazy right about now, but it’s true. Opening presents is quite possibly one of the most terrifying things I am expected to do in my life. And believe me, I’ve bared witness to a 6 foot by 8 foot picture of my intoxicated dad mooning the camera plastered to the side of a houseboat. So stick that in your juice box and suck it.
Noah Henry, Contributor
I had to pick up my drunk mom up at a party once. It was this huge house on a hill, with expensive statues and flourishing gardens. I showed up to round up my mom, and everyone is partying in the backyard. There’s probably 50 people, all of whom were very well-dressed and drunk. One of my mom’s friends started talking to me, slurring like she had molasses in her mouth. She was a few bottles of champagne past the recommended doseage. She was a cougar.
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