[It doesn’t matter what school you go to, what state it is in, how big it is, whether it is public or private, all girls or coed…there are experiences that all college students share. No matter how crazy you think your personal situation is, it is not just you.

So, let’s bring it all out in the open. Right here. Because you are not alone - we’ve all been there before.]

The Phone in the Toilet:

You put on your cutest (and tightest) jeans for the partayyy. When you arrive at the house, you drop your jacket in your friend’s room, take a few shots and head out to the living room to mingle. Your best friend is coming late/the boy you want always texts you late-night, so you keep your phone on vibrate in your back pocket so you can feel it when it rings.

You take more shots. And more. And drink a lot of beer. You laugh, you party, you begin to feel really drunk.

And, OMG, you have to pee so badly.

You head upstairs to use the bathroom; it’s gotta be cleaner than the one on the main floor, not to mention the line is probably shorter. Ugh – it’s not. You pull your phone out of your pocket in hopes that your boy-toy has sent you a “where you at?” text message, then shove the phone back into your pocket when the door opens and two people (looking particularly happy) walk out.

You run into the bathroom, lock the door, and stumble as you attempt to pull your jeans down. Just before you get them below your knees you hear a plunk and, HolySh*tNoEffingWayOhMyGodOhMyGod, your phone is in the toilet. Read More »

At least that’s what she told Star Magazine.

This kid is so cute, we maybe, kinda (not for a long, long time) want kids.

Do lip plumpers really work?

Nicole Richie heads back to work.

The Halloween Costume Generator (for the ladies).

Nominate your school for the next Victoria’s Secret collection!

Does anyone use the phone anymore!?

Yes! We can finally get Zac Efron to sleep with us!

Britney set to perform live on Dec. 2! Trainwreck? We hope so!

Michigan grad to be on Vh1’s “The Pickup Artist”

The perfect Halloween accessories.

[Every week, CC and John will bring you some of the wierdest, funniest, saddest things he hears on his college campus.  Join the Overheard revolution!  Leave your own overheard convos in the comments.]

“Is that your phone?”
“Yeah.”
“You have a pink phone?”
“Mmhm.”
“Is it, like, your girlfriend’s phone?”"
“Nope.”
“Seriously?”
“Yup.”

Found in a dining hall, on a piece of paper shoved into a napkin dispenser:
“Students! Rise up! Class riot today, 3:00 in the courtyard. Refreshments will be served.”

Two in the morning - a pair of legs is poking out of a broken window. Two guys in striped hipster hoodies are standing nearby, craning their necks to look in.
“No, no,” say the legs. “This isn’t going to work. I’ll still be locked out, I’ll just be locked out inside.”

Ten or so sweaty people in t-shirts and tank tops are clustered around a cooler. One guy lifts the top off the cooler and dumps some colored powder in.
“What was that?” asks one, confused.
“Nothing,” says the dumper. “Just drink the Kool-aid.”

There’s a commotion outside, in the hallway. I poke my head out. A man is sprinting down the hallway with his sweater unzipped, a rhinestone necklace bouncing on his exposed chest hair, and his mouth wrapped tightly around a beer bottle. Read More »

My phone is ringing. Again. And again. And again. At 4 a.m. my ex calls, just to shoot the breeze. I have to get up for work in three hours! The six missed calls earlier were not one, not two or three, but four different friends calling to find out what I was doing that evening and if I wanted to go out for drinks.

This is not a weekend.
This is a Wednesday night.

It seems the time has come to prune some extraneous leaves on the branches of my social tree. My phonebook now includes some names to which I cannot even match the slightest hint of a face.

I have now reached the stage where I can answer the question, “So what are you up to tonight?” with, “Oh nothing,” and invariably end up somewhere loud at three in the morning stumbling into a dirty bathroom and incessantly repeating the line that never fails to impress: “I have work in the morning! I can’t believe that I am out doing this!” Read More »

Recently, during a rather absurd evening involving a really sh*tty club and free bottles of Grey Goose, I found that I had somehow misplaced my cellular phone.

For the next two weeks while battling with my insurance company about their obligation to pay for a new one, I was completely phoneless. And surprisingly, I found that while not being able to call my roommate or receive text messages from my BFF was disheartening, the most annoying thing about not having a phone was that I never knew what f*cking time it was. During my time of mandatory cell abstinence, I commented on this fact to my mother. Her response was thought-provoking.

“Why don’t you get a watch?”

A watch? The last time I had a watch, I was in sixth grade. It was a gift from my parents for my twelfth birthday and on the face was an image of Elmo whose arms ticked away the minutes. At the time, I thought it was the sh*t and all my ladyfriends agreed, but when the leather straps crumbled the following summer I was pretty well over it and I’ve never felt the need to get a new one, Elmo-themed or otherwise.

Which leads me to ask the question, are watches obsolete? In this age when everyone has a phone that they have on their person more or less at all times, is there really a need for watches? The only people I can think of who do have watches are people like my mom and grandma who grew up in the Dark Ages before Verizon existed, and even they have the option of telling time with their phones. It would seem that their insistence on wearing watches stems from a deep-seated habit of looking at their wrist when someone asks the time as opposed to rooting in their pockets. Read More »

In an emergency Paramedics and EMTs will turn to a victim’s cell phone for clues to that person’s identity. You can make their job much easier with a simple idea that they are trying to get everyone to adopt: ICE.

“ICE” stands for In Case of Emergency.

If you add an entry in the contacts list in your cell phone under ICE, with the name and phone number of the person that the emergency services should call on your behalf, you can save them a lot of time and have your loved ones contacted quickly.
It only takes a few moments of your time to do.

Paramedics know what ICE means and they look for it immediately.

ICE your cell phone NOW! All the cool college whipper-snappers are doin’ it!

Days as a Freshman: 44
Mood: Peaceful

“And I was all, ‘you can’t just grab my boobs without asking first!’”

Stacey pushed through our door without knocking; barging in on what had been a peaceful study session between Rebecca and myself.

Dropping her purse by the door, kicking off her shoes in the middle of the room, and letting two shopping bags collapse all over her desk, Stacey continued to scream into her purple rhinestoned phone.

“It’s like, if you’re gonna reach for them, you gotta ask my permission, you know?” Digging around inside one of the shopping bags, Stacey took no notice of the serene environment she had just disrupted. “Seriously. Anyway, I gotta go. If I don’t fold these shirts right now they’ll totally wrinkle.”

Clicking her phone shut with one hand, Stacey raised a pile of newly purchased polos in another and spun around towards us. “What’re you kids doing in here? It smells weird. Something’s burning.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes and turned her back on Stacey. “We’re burning incense. And studying. You know…the thing people do that makes college worthwhile?”

“Oh.” Stacey looked over at us and made a face, somehow completely tuning out Rebecca’s insult. “It’s a Thursday night. Definitely not a studying night.”

Stepping around our history notes and upturned flashcards, Stacey walked over to her bed and began to carefully fold her new shirts, handling each one like snow that would melt at the slightest pressure. “Didn’t see you at the dance last week, Grace. Didn’t you say you were going?” Read More »

Nothing ruins my morning quite like hearing a leering stranger mutter his commentary on my appearance under this breath. If you’re a woman who’s ever walked a block or two in a city, you can probably relate.

Trading stories of street harassment with friends, I learned that it doesn’t stop at lewd mumbled comments. I have friends who have been flashed on the street, and even treated to a one-man self-pleasure show while riding the subway. Read More »