Be Careful Out There, Ladies!

Miami University in Oxford, OH
(yea, confusing right?) conducted
a survey to see just how aware
young college women are about
the dangers of “drug-facilitated
sexual assault.” The findings were
surprising…and pretty scary. So we
all know about roofies and not to
accept drinks from guys cuz they’re
probably creeps who want to take
advantage of us. Read More...

 

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5 Signs You’re Entering Adulthood (Eek!)

baby.jpgBecause my college career will be drawing to a close soon, my mind is winding its way towards that point in my life when I will no longer be a carefree college student. I will be a— what do they call it again? A grown-up?

In that same frame of mind, I’ve been looking at my so-called grown-up friends to see how their lives are different from my own, searching for things that would tell me when I’ve become one of them, or if maybe -gasp- I’m already there. Here is what I came up with.

5 Signs that you are now entering Adultsville:

1. Bills. Gone are the days of blissful ignorance as to how the lights stayed on at home or the hot water kept running. Now those infuriating little statements just keep slipping through the mail slot. Phone bill, gas bill, waterworks, eating away at your paycheck- your new pair of shoes! It was a lot more fun when you had an allowance.

2. Your parents are asking you to drive them places. You thought it was your ticket to freedom when you got your license, huh? Wink, wink. Mom and Dad were just waiting for the day when they wouldn’t have to take you anywhere and you could start chauffeuring them around. Now it’s, “Honey, can you take me to the doctor’s on Monday?” and, “Oh, could you stop by the grocery store after work and pick some things up for me?” Don’t forget doing someone else’s errands: “Your sister’s done with soccer practice at 6.” Some kind of freedom. Read More »

Two Products a Makeup-Hater Loves

23452701.jpgMost of the time, I look like a hag. Though I wish this was untrue, it’s hard to deny when I check myself out in the mirror. The reason? I hate makeup.

When I was eight years old, I distinctively remember sitting at the kitchen table and watching my mother put on her makeup, just like she did every other morning. It was an elaborate ritual, lasting for five or ten minutes and transforming her from my mom into some painted-up, clown-type figure with a mask.

You know,” I told her then. “When I grow up, I’m not ever going to wear any makeup. And I’m going to save so much money because of it. Just think about how much money you spend every year on makeup.”

I don’t remember how my mom reacted, but she probably rolled her eyes at me. Read More »

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