I have a confession to make. You can judge me all you want, but I’m coming clean:

I cheated on my last boyfriend.

No, it wasn’t a long, torrid love affair. It wasn’t kinky sex with a Jeremy Piven lookalike. In fact, there was no sex involved. All I did was make out with a co-worker. But still, cheating is cheating, so tonsil hockey still counts in my book. It also counted in my boyfriend’s book. And it counted in his sister’s book…and she was the one who witnessed the fiasco.

It was innocent enough; I didn’t intend to cheat. I wasn’t emotionally attached to my co-worker. We just got blackout drunk at a bar and swapped saliva for about half an hour.

The next morning, I woke up feeling like I’d done something wrong. Yup, I had. My boyfriend’s sister asked me if I remembered making out with “Frank.” Immediately, my heart sank. I got dizzy. I wanted to throw up. My mind started racing a mile a minute, as is standard anxiety-attack protocol. Why would I do something like that with Frank, a guy I had absolutely no interest in, when I was happy and in love with her brother?

A lot of people will disagree with me for saying this, but cheating can be hard on the cheater. I was ashamed of myself, I cried, and I regretted doing so many shots the night before. What’s a cheater to do when they’ve crossed the line with someone else? Read More »

[Like a magpie, you gravitate towards things that are shiny: cell phones, TVs, anything that allows you to play Rock Band. But just because you love ‘em doesn’t mean you know much about ‘em. That’s where we come in. Every week we will be highlighting the best, coolest and shiniest in technology. Consider us your personal Geek Squad.

And let us tell ya; with CC on your side, geek has never looked so chic.]

So your current computer/MP3 player/TV/thing that runs on electricity isn’t treating you right anymore. Or perhaps your friends are laughing at you for being trapped in the 90’s (“You still use film for your camera? That is so cute!”). For whatever reason it’s time for you to upgrade. Chances are you know what you’re doing, but just in case you don’t, here are some pointers:

DO: Know what you’re going in there to get. Srsly, don’t go in the store and say,“I’m looking for something to play my music on.” Ok, that’s great, would that be for your home, travel, or other? You can save time (and $$$) by being specific. “I need an mp3 player that’s sturdy with long battery life,” is more appropriate. This allows you take control of your shopping experience rather than be controlled by the sales associate.

DON’T: Go in there thinking that buying gadgets is just like buying a shirt. People make this mistake all the time. If you go into Macy’s and say that you want a red shirt they can show you what they have in stock and you can pretty much make a decision based on your personal knowledge of what does and doesn’t look good on your fabulous self. The same does not hold true for shiny tech stuff because everything looks good, but that doesn’t mean it all works well, epecially if you don’t know what you’re looking at to begin with. Which brings me to my next point. Read More »

Listen up incoming freshmen: in a few weeks, you’re going to find yourself on a huge college campus full of more hook-up potential than you could ever dream. In the next few years, some of you will have long-term relationships, while many of you will engage in short-term hook-ups.

There are several types of college relationships that have an urban legend-esque feel to them: the sexy school girl and the married professor, the sexy school girl and the teaching assistant, and, of course, the sexy school girl and the resident assistant.

I have never hooked up with one of my RAs, but that’s because I’ve only ever had female RA’s. Still, I know plenty of people who have dabbled in these waters. I’m not here to condone or condemn the practice, because I’ve certainly had my fair share of regrettable trysts, but I am here to lay out some of the baggage that comes with such a hook up.

First of all, consider the fact that even inter-floor mating can lead to year-long awkwardness. If you fear the inevitable walk of shame, imagine the anxiety that comes with the chance that one of your floormates sees you leaving the RA’s room in last night’s bar clothes. Even if you survive the W.O.S, you risk the rumors and reputation — people are more apt to label someone “the girl that banged the RA” than “the chick who nailed whatshisname in 5B.” Even worse, if you can’t handle the tension of a chance meeting on the elevator (or on the way to the showers), you are biting off more than you can chew with by shacking up with your RA.

Your RA is someone you will probably have to turn to throughout the year. He’ll be the one to let you into your room when you are locked out wearing only a towel. This means he also has the master key to your room (not implying anything, just saying). He’s also someone who will have to keep tabs on you throughout the year. He’ll be writing you up for dorm parties, open containers, and that hole in your wall that you forgot to fix before move-out day. This fact alone can open up a brand new can of worms in Relationship Land. Read More »

I will never forget the saddest day of my life. It was just another lazy Sunday, and I’d just done my monthly load of laundry. Upon removing my two favorite pairs of jeans from the dryer, I noticed something devastating: a hole… in both pairs of jeans.

And I know you think I’m just being melodramatic, but I was legit depressed. Not for a lack of jeans, I have a great variety in my closet. But I ONLY wore these two pairs. The rest are a size too big, or a size too small; these babies have always been just right. And I’d never entertained the thought of having to give ‘em up.

So, I decided to take the next logical step: deny the hole, and continue to wear the jeans. Unfortunately, the hole that I was now modeling garnered more attention than I’d anticipated. After a few “Are those crotchless jeans?” I knew it was necessary to fix ‘em, or nix ‘em.

Had I know about Denim Therapy, my next step would have been easy and my denim-life would be sweet right now. Denim Therapy specializes in reconstructing torn or damaged jeans with some shnazzy technique not possessed by tailors.

But this genius entity was useless to me a few months ago, because nobody told me about it! So, I took my wounded babies to my ordinary tailor, who we will now refer to as The Devil. Well, The Devil told me he could fix them—no prob. Read More »