It’s been awhile. I know. Whatever. Get over it.
I havent slept in 3 days… I think it’s Wednesday?
Today is my last college class. EVER.
Yup — I actually pulled this shit show off.
Ok. I need to study or some shit I guess
Let’s be honest here, we all fall into that puppy love, goo goo gaa gaa state over some guy and totally put our friends on the back burner of life. After spending days, weeks, months, or even years with a guy, there’s a possibility you might run into that “oh shit” moment when the clock strikes midnight, and the man you thought was prince charming turns out to be the biggest tool you have ever met. Times like these are when we need our friends…
Guys will come and go, but your girlfriends will always be there for you.
Hell yea, I love a good pair of shoes, who doesn’t? Life is too short to live without a great pair of pumps…. you’ll not only look like you know the rules of feminism, but you’ll be a few inches above everybody .. literally and figuratively. When it comes to shoes, cost is never a concern. Do you think the designers at Manolo Blahnik say to themselves while designing their latest creation, “Oh, we’re going to have to use cheaper material, there are women who won’t be able to afford these…” FUCK NO. They reason like the rest of women in thinking that shoes are not things you want, they are things you NEED…regardless how many times you slip them on your beautifully pedicured feet. Stop asking yourself, “When will I ever wear these?” and start thinking
“I’ll make a reason to wear them.”
I mean shit, look at Cinderella, a new pair of shoes changed her life.
We have all had a Mr. Big in our lives. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a man who constantly comes and goes; it could end up being a friend, colleague, professor (Probably not the smartest idea). Regardless if it’s a friend, a lover or whatever, we’ve all encountered a person like this, and if you haven’t, brace yourself because it’s coming. Love is a ridiculously complicated word that has a shit ton of different meanings. This meanings evolve as we age (Or don’t age. Hello? Botox?!) But one thing I learned from Carrie is if you love someone, and I mean REALLY love someone, don’t give up on them.
If you have an awesome ass job that pays a shit ton of money, don’t be ashamed of that! All I have to say is, girl you should be damn proud of that! You put the time and effort into succeeding in YOUR life. DO NOT feel bad because your man does not make as much as you. It’s not his fault you’re naturally amazing and some men are even turned on by this. A housewife isn’t “being” something, its “doing” something and to “do” something, you have to “be” something first. There is absolutely nothing wrong with a woman owning the fact that she’s the bread winner.
Can you say “Stay-at-home-Dad?”
If you do not have a great love, then have a lover. After being in a few relationships I’ve learned that being in a relationship isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be. I’ve come to the realization that I’m too young to be tied down, but too old to be celibate. Let your inner Samantha Jones come out, and be fabulous. Do who you want, when you want, whenever you want. And if you’re not satisfied with your lover, find a new one.
Just remember there’s this thing called STD’s
and that’s something you WILL NOT be satisfied with…
My parents always tell me that college is the time to do things I wouldn’t normally do. Their idea of “stepping out of my comfort zone” is joining mathletes or some weird shit like that. My idea is getting fucking wasted every weekend. But what SITC has taught me about drinking is that it never goes out of style. So, let’s toast to Mexi Monday, Twisted Tuesday, Wacky Wednesday, Thirsty Thursdays and then the all mighty “Weekend.”
As a little girl I have always had this master plan to graduate college, get a job, get married, have babies, and live in Cape Cod on the ocean. But (Yes, there’s a “but”) sometimes you have to let go of those visions and accept reality. Charlotte has taught me that the idea of a perfect husband isn’t always perfect. You can’t force it, and you can’t pretend to see what you want to see. This wouldn’t be so much of an issue if David Beckham would just show up at my front door, but the right man will come into our lives when it is meant to be. I’ll be waiting Beckham….
Carrie, we love you, but shut it. Let a girl dream.
Would you settle on a pair of shoes because they are “OK?” The answer better be no. If you don’t settle on a pair of shoes, then why would you settle on a man? If you’re dating someone who has no aspirations in life, and no motivation, then sweetie you need to wake up and smell your Chanel perfume. Even though Samantha is a crazy sex addict (amen to her), she knows what she wants. She doesn’t settle for any man that doesn’t meet her expectations. It’s better to be single, then be with someone that isn’t the “the one”.
If you’re in a relationship and you’re not smiling anymore, you need to let go. Sometimes, relationships are not meant to work out. It takes an incredibly strong person to know when the ride is over. No, I’m not talking about your ride “reverse cowgirl” style, I’m talking about the ride you predicated to take on your “five year plan.” Every girl has one of these. Whether it’s meeting Mr. Right, getting married, and having kids or graduating college, becoming a billionaire and along that road keeping your options open … we all have these plans. Throw it all out the window. Fate is not a real thing. Sorry. Nobody will be more disappointed than yourself when five years down the road, you realize that you should’ve ended the relationship back when it was acceptable to be on Tinder. Match.com requires money and a personality. I’m assuming you will have neither at that point, since being in a bad relationship sucks the life and (hundred) dollar bills right out of you to compensate for your latent emotions. Close the sucky relationship door and lock it and delete/block his number. Learn from all the women on SITC, when one chapter ends, another one begins. You are the writer to your own life, so write the story you want.
Rock what your mama gave you. Never forget that you are who you are, you can’t pretend to be someone who you are not. All the make-up in the world will not make you a different person, it makes you a cake-face-crayola-crayon. Don’t deny who you are to impress others. We all buy a ton of shit we don’t need (but we really do need the newest pair of Loubiton pumps) to impress people that don’t mater. So buy the shoes YOU want, and date the men YOU want, and drink however many drinks YOU want, and screw anyone that judges you.
Amanda is a Disney Princess loving, wanna be Blair Waldorf, OCD freak that would rather be sunbathing on the beach. Her guilty pleasures include watching The Bachelor every Monday night, One Direction, and WAWA Slurpee’s. If she isn’t doing, consuming, or dreaming about any of that cool stuff, she’s probably just busy being a student at Rowan University.
Check here out here: www.linkedin.com/pub/amanda-kuster/85/932/192
Check me out here: http://www.linkedin.com/in/taylorcohen1/
Send me a tweet! @whatiknownoww @ttayl0r
This really only applies to people who aren’t boring.
It was really great to see forty notifications on LinkedIn about your latest promotion (Because we care?)
& OH, I ALMOST FORGOT! Congrats on the updated Facebook relationship status!
I’m sure you and your cat will be very happy together….
You’ll begin to start questioning life right after you turn twenty-one. It will blindside you on a random Wednesday & you’ll think back to when you read this and say, “Shit. She was right…” Yeah, well guess what? I’m always right.
There will be bills you must pay, obligations must keep & decisions you must make.
WORDS OF ADVICE: Verizon, Comcast, AMEX, nor Visa….
Will give two, three, or even four shits…that you “HAD TO HAVE” the new Google Glass…
Sort’ve like when you were little and your mom would threaten you with,
“If you break it, you buy it”
Here is the adult version your mother never happened to mention:
“If you charge it, YOU HAVE TO PAY FOR IT LATER”
There are also these things called: APR, Interest, & Late Fee’s… Just as they sound, they are no fun.
Things may seem like they are starting to make sense .. and then they don’t & shit gets even more confusing than it was in the first place. Around this same time you’ll probably start to wonder about your character, morals & beliefs:
It gets better. Well, at least I hope it does. If I figure it out before you — I’ll make sure to mention it..
In the blink of an eye you’ll go from uploading pictures of you & your 8 million “best friends” …
…To unfollowing those exact same people five years later. Mostly due to the fact that they posted 40 pictures IN A ROW of their newborn, alien baby & they continuously feel the need to use the hashtag “#babymama” like it’s a good thing…
Oh, and don’t even get me started on all the engagements. Maybe it’s just me, but I’d rather wait until my fiancé can afford the ring I want, than him surprising me with a princess-cut cubic zirconia “diamond” from Walmart. I see this sad and unfortunate scenario play out daily as I scroll down my Instagram feed…
… and then I scroll back up to delete you.
If your engagement ring is that tacky, I do NOT want to see what the wedding will look like…
If you have your shit together, you’re probably out of college by now, working your first job, getting paid like shit & still eating Ramon noodles. This may be where you return back to #1 (What is Life?) and ask yourself how did four years of suffering result in becoming more poor than you were to begin with?
You’re so poor even the bank even feels the need to remind you. Not only are you completely broke, but the NOTHING somehow turns into something…
“Hello, Welcome to Wells Fargo Bank. Just to let you know you’re -23.00 in your checking. How would you like to fix this?”
Yes, I know. I am very well aware, considering you feel the need to remind me by sending out a letter everyday. Maybe if you would stop sending me mail we could call it even on the $23.00.
I’d save you a fortune on ink, envelopes, and postage.
You may tell yourself, “No, No, No… that ‘s only people who don’t watch their finances!”
Yeah? Really? I watch mine…
I swear my body knew when I turned twenty-four. I drank my face off, did some fucked up – reckless shit, woke up the next morning & legit had the worst hangover of my life. I’m not just talking about my head or my stomach…I’m talking about my whole body. It was crying, whimpering & sulking… I should’ve responded back with: “the hospital…”
Yes. That was a serious question a girl asked in my class.
The course largely consists of underclassmen, who were born in or around 1995-1996, but grew up in the new millennium. Of course, I did as well, but I also REMEMBER things from the 90’s…like what life was like before Wikipedia…
I feel like this is the appropriate time to pay my respects to Google, Wikipedia, and the like, for making life a whole lot easier, but even more importantly…
“Yahoo Answers,” the single, most important reason I’m still in college & still passing.
At the very sound of my professor saying the word, “Encyclopedia”, half the class looked even more puzzled than a baby recognizing its own foot for the first time…
Although, I don’t think any story I tell you can beat the freshman girl who was completely beside herself as I explained how Justin Timberlake had been in a boy band & wore a matching denim outfit with Britney before he wore a matching suite & tie with Jay-Z
So, twenty-four should be interesting. I mean, shit, the past 24 hours I have been pretttttty interesting.
I don’t know what the hell is going to happen with my life. At the rate I’m going I could either wake up tomorrow morning as Beyonce…
…Or I could wake up as Lindsay Lohan.
If I get to choose, it would be LL circa 2004…
Those were the pre-drug-fueled-ankle-bracelet-wearing days.
What you should know about the college application process! I’ve been through this too many times to count over the past few years & this post shares some great tips!
I may add though: set all your personal social media to private. Admissions doesn’t need to know about the two wine coolers you chugged last weekend that got you “soooooooo wastedddddd.”
Hello fellow high schoolers, middle schoolers and late bloomers alike,
I’m here with a new series for y’all called: College Confusion Clarified (As you may have notice)
I’m here to help you, help yourself through the most confusing time ever. Whether you are in the time crunch of getting those app’s in by January (which is right around the corner so message me with any immediate help! info will be at the end!) or you still have some time, this series is for you!
Not to toot my own horn, but I’m 4 for 4 in the application process! I’ve been accepted into Le Moyne, Saint Joseph’s, Fairfield and Mercyhurst, all with scholarships! *END BRAG SHESH*
This first post is going to be about the essay. The dreaded common app essay.
If you can, you will want to get it done as early as possible. But if you are…
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A few years ago I had these neighbors. These are the type of neighbors you don’t really know too well, but you say hi when you both awkwardly walk down to your mailboxes at the end of your driveways at the same time and run into each other. Those types of neighbors.
One beautiful summer afternoon as I was cleaning my house while my parents were at work
AKA: As I was throwing back shots of Jose Cuervo with my friends by the pool while my parents were at work
I randomly hear my doorbell ring. Naturally, I get nervous and think it’s one of two things:
Every pretty girl thinks the same thing when she’s home alone and the door bell rings. You’re afraid that since you obviously weren’t beaten with the ugly stick it could be a crazy person coming to lock you in his basement for thirty years or you think it could be the police, because remember that shit that happened two years ago that nobody fucking remembers, but you think up five million scenarios in your head on how the police somehow know? Yeah. Think about this next time this happens to you girls. You’ll see I’m right. I’m always right.
I opened up the door in a sweat shirt and sweat pants (AKA in a bikini with a drink in my hand) and see my mailbox neighbors. Awkward. I held the door open just enough to pop my head out, because they don’t seem like the type of people you want to let in your house mostly because the wife had her pet bunny rabbit in her arms. She would carry it around frequently and it sort’ve freaked me out. The wife handed me some cookies (I’m guessing as some peace offering, doesn’t she know cookies have carbs? Not a great way to make friends lady…) and she began to tell me some story that I’m sure I cared about for two seconds, but I started sucking down the rest of my drink halfway through, since she got boring pretty quickly. Naturally, this led me to forget much of our conversation, which I didn’t mind, because I vaguely remembered her glorifying her pet bunny rabbit.
Two days later I was outside basking in the sun’s glorious rays trying to obtain my perfect golden tan, when I heard my dog run up next to my towel. It was my job to watch her during the day and I frequently left the gate open for her to run around so she could explore without the restraints of a fence. I sat up and realized that she had something gripped in her mouth. Rikki was always trying to get me to throw shit across the yard for her to chase. It was exhausting and I was obviously busy. The perfect tan takes handwork and patience. I told her to spit it out and I quickly noticed that it didn’t look like a toy.
Yes, this really is my life.
Obviously, I freaked out. I wasn’t sure if I should clean it off and return it to the cage in their backyard or pretend to tell them that I tried to rescue it as it got hit by a car from escaping its cage. Really…who would tell the truth about this? Nobody. Don’t lie. You can’t turn your dog in. It’s man’s bestfriend.
So naturally, I decided to do the more fucked up thing.
Yeah. I cleaned the rabbit off. So what? I wasn’t totally in the right mindset. Everyone know’s what this feels like. It’s that feeling when you know that shit is about to hit the fan and if you don’t do some fucked up shit to fix it…your ass is the one that’s on the line.
I walked over to my neighbors house and snuck into the backyard where the cage was. I slid the rabbit back into it’s shitty home (who leaves a rabbit outside?) and I ran back home to pretend like it was a dream similar to Alice in Wonderland. Except that this white rabbit probably wishes it was late for a very important date…with my dogs mouth.
A few days later I woke up and walked down to my driveway to grab the mail. I was waiting for a package with a bunch of overpriced items that I bought with my dad’s credit card and I wanted to make sure he didn’t find it before I did. Even before I could notice, my neighbor conveniently happened to start walking towards her mailbox as well. We both made eye contact and she waved. White flag. I immediately knew she had no idea that I was an accessory in the death of her precious rabbit. She grabbed her mail and I saw her glance my way once again. I could tell she wanted to come over and start some pointless conversation with me and unfortunatley I didn’t have a drink in my hand this time. She started off with some pointless small talk, but quickly began to tell me how depressed and upset she had been over the past two days. Like I care. She continues blabbering on about how her husband doesn’t believe her and how the rabbit was dead earlier in the week.
I tell her to calm the fuck down and that I’m here for her,
but to tell me exactly what happened from the beginning.
DISCLAIMER: ONLY CONTINUE READING IF YOU’RE IN A PLACE WHERE YOU CAN SCREAM
“OH MY GOD ARE FUCKING SERIOUS? IS THAT REAL?!”
She beings to tell me that her beloved bunny rabbit had passed away “naturally thank god, because I don’t think I could deal with the fact if he went any other way.” I got every detail about how she buried it in the backyard, but a few days ago when she decided it was time to clean out the cage she was surprised to find the rabbit back…in it’s cage…after being buried…in the ground.
It hit me immediately and I realized two things:
The rabbit had actually died naturally with its owner a few days before my dog Rikki had found it. My neighbor buried the rabbit in their backyard where my dog would frequently run around during the day when I would open the gate. Since I had more important things to do than watch my dog like my parents would tell me to do, I never noticed if she was getting into something…like a buried bunny. My dog had dug up the already dead rabbit up and delivered it to me (what a nice gift, don’t ya think?) and being that I was unaware of the rabbits first death I had cleaned it off and returned it to it’s cage. When my neighbor came to grips with reality and decided that she needed to clean the cage … she found the rabbit back … in its cage … after it had already been buried.
So my neighbor now believes that her bunny rabbit is some sort of spiritual animal, because what type of living thing dies and then comes back to life? The only other time I’ve heard of this happening is in this fairy tale book called the Bible where some guy apparently crawls out of a cave and comes back to life. Sounds legit….
I told you this was a good one.
There are certain situations in life where you have no choice but to lie. If I would’ve told my neighbors the truth about how my dog had dug their dead rabbit….I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t have gone to well.
My one job while my parents were at work was to watch the damn dog. If I would have done this correctly I wouldn’t have a neighbor who now thinks her rabbit is the second coming of Christ in animal form.
This is like an art. There are going to be things that happen in your life where you already know the truth, but you can’t let anyone else know that you know. So this is where your surprise face comes into play. Practice makes perfect and it needs to be perfect or else you won’t pull it off. This way the next time you do some fucked up shit on the down low and somebody mentions it to you … you can kill it with the surprise face and maybe even add a “OH MY GOD I can’t believe that” just to make it extra reassuring that you had no part in that situation, even though you totally did..or did you?
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I will forever kick myself for being too stubborn to listen to everyone when they said not to live with your best friend freshman year. Teachers, parents, other friends, strangers… I should have listened. I know some people whose freshman year living situations worked out fine but my experience was terrible. I lost a good friend because of it and created a lot of awkward moments for myself for the rest of my freshman year. Advice: You don’t know someone till you live with them… no matter how many sleepovers you’ve had. You’ll be left getting drunk with your friends crying over the letter she left on your bed about how she was leaving you.
Do not get attached. I met my first boyfriend move in day and dated him until March. Freshman year is a time for you to experiment, put yourself out there. Figure out what you like and what you don’t. I went into college with this plan to meet the perfect guy the first day, date throughout college and then get married. NO. A thousand times NOOOO. Do not do this. This will lead to you trying to take a shit-ton of Advil to try to function and end up getting sent home from to class after he tells you he cheated on you and while he “loves” you he was never “in love” with you. But hell, it’s not like you had a heart anyway.
If you ask any of my friends they will probably tell you that I’m one of the weirdest people they have ever met. In high school being myself only brought me unwanted attention so I tried to be more All-American. I shopped at the same stores as everyone else, I never truly spoke my mind, I was a clone. When I got to college I was excited to be who ever the fuck I wanted to be. Honestly I’m still working on totally being myself, but once I figured out that people would like me no matter what I started getting rid of all my old clothes and wearing what I wanted to wear. I took on more and more leadership roles and I spoke my mind. Everyday I take a chance that I might offend someone by being who I am. The truth is there is no better feeling than not wearing a bra.