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Look through my phonebook. The list is never-ending. Dan. Paul. Rick. Mike. Javier. Alex. Nicolas. Nicolas #2. Cedric. Brandon. And so on. Not to brag, but I’m something of a certified P-I-M-P. Poppin’ the collar all over the place. And brushing my shoulders off.
I wouldn’t put myself on player status, because that’s not what it’s about. No one actually gets ahead by playing games. Games are childish. People do actually get ahead by meeting new people, and being able to go for what they want.
Like that guy. The incredibly sexy one across the room. Dark hair falling in his very green eyes. And a crowd around him that’s ten chicks deep.
The Strategy? Don’t pay him too much attention.
It works every time; if he really is that hot, he knows it. And if he didn’t know it, the girls throwing themselves at him will have been a good wakeup call. So why not switch The Game up on him? You’re cute. You’re fun. And you are the one chick he can’t just wrap around his finger. Or at least you’re pretending like you are.
I’m not talking about your middle school cold-shoulder tactics. The point is simply not to let this guy know that inside you’re going googly-eyed. Usually, one firm, flirty look is all you need. Then continue with your evening. Laugh with your girlfriends. Look stupid on the dance floor. Do whatever it is that you would normally do if dreamboat weren’t standing over there in the corner.
About halfway through the night, you might want to give dreamboat a reminder that you’re still there and pointedly walk past him, and then maybe go order a drink by yourself, so that he doesn’t have to awkwardly say something to you in front of all your drooling girlfriends. Read More »
Confession time: I’m an introvert. It goes deep. I can’t stand parties. Gatherings of more than four people (myself included) terrify me. I don’t like to pick up the phone. I’d be absolutely fine if I didn’t talk to anyone for days at a time.
You’ve 
Because 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?
It’s no secret that the infamous “freshman fifteen” weight gain is often attributed to the increased consumption of alcohol that comes with newfound freedom in college, especially if the alcohol is accompanied by high-calorie mixers. In general, drinking some of the “tastier” beverages out there, whether they are alcoholic or non-alcoholic, can slip some unwanted floods of extra calories into your diet (Did you know that the average Long Island Iced Tea has 780 calories? Eek.).
“Birds of the feather flock together” is a phrase my mother has repeated to me since I was a child. I used to hate her for this phrase. I used to accuse her of being judgmental and mean-spirited for judging my friends by the company that they kept. But now…well…now the story is a little bit different. As I have grown up on my own - outside of the house and outside of my mother’s phrases - I have begun to realize just how right she was.
Who doesn’t love a good train wreck like Lindsay Lohan or Britney Spears? For us “ordinary folk” (those of us who wear Old Navy, drink PBR and dream of tetris being an Olympic sport) there’s nothing like a healthy dose of tabloid exploitation on those who live in (what at least appears to be) an alternate universe… where dogs wear juicy couture, cars come equipped with mini-bars, breasts double as flotation devices and pocket lint is laced with cocaine.
A close set of girlfriends is like a corset, generally helping you maintain as much poise as possible through all walks of life while proving to be an incredibly tight system of support. If you’re lucky, they know you better than you know yourself (or than you’d prefer to admit to yourself) and love you anyway, all the while sharing their wardrobes and opinions on whether it’s time for a new hair color.
