Have the last 7 days made anyone else crave a bubble bath and a good book? How about a Valium?
Anyway, the world kind of imploded this week. Cheerleaders were bashed for being cheerleaders, we had flashbacks to 7th grade when our sworn enemy put a dead fish in our locker, that awkward hook-up just became the top dining hall gossip, and we seriously forgot how to actually care.
To make matters worse, we found out that men cheat on us a lot, and John McCain almost didn’t make it to tonight’s debate.
A week like this makes us want to manufacture our own boyfriend, go shopping at American Apparel, find a much younger guy to toy with, eat some candy bar brownies, and eff Jeremy Piven.
At least we learned how to survive that 8 AM class. If nothing else, we’ll be early for the end of the world.




Okay. Mother’s Day is almost here. And if you’re anything like me, you’re freaking out just the tiniest bit because A) you kinda forgot about this holiday until you saw a commercial last night B) your money supply is so low that you no longer get receipts from the ATM because it makes you too sad, and C) you’ve already maxed out every bath and body store within a 100 mile radius of your house, and your mom will disown you if you get her another bottle of bubble bath.
Holiday shopping for your mom is never easy. I mean, you’ve known her all your life, so surprising her every year is not exactly simple. Plus, the older you get, the less acceptable it is to make something kinda shoddy and offer it up. Badly painted dried spaghetti necklaces don’t fly anymore.