To put it plainly, my first college roommate was a megabitch. Sharon* (named changed to protect the dreadful) and I never spoke. Our room was silent and filled with angst. I would try to start conversations on topics I knew she enjoyed (dance, The Bachelor, being the biggest jerk ever) but she would usually respond with one word answers or with exaggerated sighs.

The worst part? Sharon was super fun and nice with every other person on our floor but for some reason couldn’t stand me.

I made myself scarce and tried not to be in the room when she was. I hid out in the dorm lounge and the cafeteria. Meanwhile, Sharon did the opposite and made my life a living hell.

The final straw came the night she came home drunk at 2 AM before my first big test. She shushed her gentleman friend loudly as they stumbled into our room, then she dragged the poor shlub up onto the top bunk of our bed for what had to be the most awkward dorm sex ever. I told myself that night that I would try to find a new roommate. Sharon must have heard my prayers because a few weeks later she asked ME to move out so she could live with her best friend. I didn’t even feel like arguing or complaining. I just said sure and amazingly enough moved into the open room right across the hall.

Since then, I’ve had some great and not so great living situations, but none of them taught me as much as my first semester at college. Here are a few tips for those of you taking the plunge into dorm life. Read More »

Now, not to brag or anything, but my mama raised me right. I was always taught to say Please and Thank you, excuse myself from the dinner table before getting up to do homework (alright, who am I kidding? It was more to watch MTV, write angsty poetry and/or try to sneak smoking cigarettes out of my basement window) and I always had to be polite. To everybody. Friends, neighbors, strangers, that disgusting kid with bad breath and UFO pants that sat next to me on the bus – everybody.

I don’t blame her for wanting me to grow up (not-so) tall and grow up right, but over the years I have found myself in a plethora of situations that have crossed that fine line between being polite and looking like a complete f!@#$cking pushover (sorry for the swear word, Mom!).

I’m the girl who will let you copy her notes from the entire semester before the final without asking for a single thing in return. I’m the girl who will pick you up from some random, I-swear-he-was-so-much-hotter-last-night guy’s house the morning after– even if we’ve only met twice. I’m the girl who will buy you beer (which includes picking it up and dropping it off at your doorstep) for the fourth time in a week and not mention the fact that you stiffed me about ten dollars.

And I’m the girl who – no matter how hard I try – can not for the life of me tell my douchebag ex-boyfriend to f@#ck off – and that NO, he can not completely plagiarize my paper from last semester even though I am, obviously, an amazing writer with an impeccable way with words.

Basically, I need to grow some balls. Read More »