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If I could do it without burning bridges and looking like the # 1 mean girl, I would just say no to so many of the things that are asked of me. “No, I’m not going to write this article”, “No, I don’t want to hear about your dog”, “No, I don’t want to get drinks with you.” Just no. It might be the most liberating word in the English dictionary but you can’t say it that often because that would be…bad?

On September 2nd, your worst fear… will surface. Assuming, of course, that your worst fear is sharks. As for myself, my worst fear is someone stabbing me in the eyes, followed closely by killer bees. But if your number one fear is sharks, then you’re in luck — and you’re in 3-D style luck, to boot.

‘Melancholy’ is in and of itself a fascinating word. Visually, at least, it could be like a homophone of ‘symphony’, as in an assemblage of beautiful instruments, as it ends in the same sometimes-vowel and contains the same orchestra of consonant blends, the sort that migrate softly from the wet and rarely-used places of the tongue…

“Here’s why I’m better than all your other candidates, make no mistake,” you write in your cover letter. “I’m highly relatable, am a great team player, and have a passion for sales and marketing. I’m the man for the job, sir.” This is where you actually have to leave the laptop, go to the kitchen sink and retch.

I don’t know about you, but I spent the ages from 11 to 15 in what can only be described as a telephone K-hole. Since no one had a license to drive, my friends and I would be forced to dial our way to freedom. From the moment we arrived home from school until we had to eat dinner, we would just talk, talk, and then talk some more.

This is how I have come to rationalize my first quasi-relationship. To me, he was the 90s; an outlet to my childhood and decade that I have always possessed an inexplicable affinity for. I was enamored by his Kurt Cobain-rebellion, the way he would throw rocks at my second-story window to lure me outside, and how we would listen to alternative rock on repeat.

The hippy boss. Smells like weed, of course. Works in surprisingly professional places such as law offices and schools in not surprising professions such as art teachers and gofers. Talks about energy and transcendence a lot. Wears piercings and dreads that she can’t pull off anymore.

Co-founder of PayPal Peter Thiel will soon be giving out $100,000 fellowships to 24 recent recipients of his Thiel Fellowship. The catch? They drop of out school and work for two years with over 100 Silicon Valley veterans as mentors to “further develop their ideas in areas such as biotechnology, education, and energy,” according to the The Chronicle of Higher Education.

I find myself really physically attracted to a lot of the guys I know to the point where I’m really curious as to how sex with them would be like. The only thing making me question whether this is actually true, if such a thing could be doubted, is how I’m still a virgin. So I can’t tell if my attraction is mainly out of sheer horniness to have sex at all or if I’m actually into guys.

It’s officially summer in New York and as an ex-fashion blogger I can tell you that this season’s hottest accessories are beer and music, so make sure you’re matching them otherwise no one will want to be friends with you at parties.

Do as much as you can. Do shit that other people would consider “weird” or “dumb” like getting a cheap weave, disguising your gender, changing jobs frequently, getting fired, traveling through the Sahel by yourself on a motorbike, drinking in the morning, growing your nails two inches long, majoring in mortuary science, and/or taking the last bus of the day to the end of the line in the suburbs with no way to get back home.

At the same time, however, it’s the reason I don’t talk much anymore. Each status I make is one I make with a certain amount of thought. No names are ever shared, no details ever too vivid. Passive-aggressive statements have been retired to the shelf along with goth make-up.

While my days as an angst-ridden, jobless youth are long gone, the emails I sent during that time are still alive and well in the depths of my outbox. There is nothing quite as painful as finding evidence of what a tool you were when applying for jobs as a recent college graduate. Here are ten examples of why it took me six months to get hired.

The list of Disney heroines that I’d really like to have hot sex with goes something like this: (1) Belle from Beauty and the Beast. (2) Princess Jasmine from Aladdin. (3) …An-nnd that’s about it, I guess.

The problem with saving animals from extinction is that so many of them are also scary, threatening, and nihilistic. I can’t empathize with them. I have no feeling of kinship with these fellow life forms. These particular animals seem to have been designed by nature specifically to evoke this reaction from me, so I don’t feel bad about it.

Hate me, love me, or don’t give a crap about me. Those are the three options my ex-boyfriends will have. Depending on the relationship we had, they will either think I’m sensitive and thoughtful, or an evil no good terrible person. One ex would say, “Ryan was really nice and really cared about me. He was a good one.” and another would yell, “Um, really? He treated me like crap. Are you sure you two dated?”

It’s hard to point to a precise point in time and say ‘that is the point when my life began to go up in flames.’ You might argue it was the first time I did crystal meth in an attempt to get a boy to like me, and proceeded to spend two and half grand in four days, in an attempt to prevent the inevitable comedown.

Like thousands of other basement bands across the country at the time, we spent our days skateboarding, building launch ramps in our driveways, and working up new ways to express our dissatisfaction with the world. Plenty of stuff pissed us off. This was 1986, after all, the high Reagan era.

On the second story of a two-story apartment, my girlfriend and I lounged on a bed with another couple, all of us sloppy from too much domestic beer. Porn flickered on a television in the corner. Music blared from the party going on downstairs.

In chapter three, you’ll be showing pictures of your blue hair to friends and being like, “How could I ever done that to myself? What the hell was wrong with me?” Um, everything is wrong with you when you’re thirteen. There’s nothing but shame in the middle school game.

What’s the point in trying to document your life if you inevitably end up documenting all the wrong things? I took long breaks from the diaries, only to return and try to cram everything into a page, like inside jokes that will inevitably lose all meaning and relevance and seem foreign to even you.

Have a full-time job. The routine of being awake by 9:00 is a crucial first step on this path to obsessive time delineation. No one with the day off ever wastes their day staring at a computer – well, no one as cool you you. You must be good at your job. This doesn’t mean being prideful and snobby about it, just efficient.

A twelebrity can give you a Twitter Expansion of Benefits and Reputation, or Twix bar, by including your username in one of their tweets. That tweet will be seen by their hundreds of thousands of followers, many of which might start following you. You can engage these twelebrities by both tweeting at them or retweeting their tweets.

Charlie watches, listens, reads, and thinks way too much. And he blames himself for everything that goes wrong. And he thinks he is too strange for anyone to really get along with him. And he panics very easily and cries at the drop of a hat. And he comes on way too strong toward the people he loves and cares about. And, according to his English teacher, he has no idea how truly special he is.

Perhaps the most popular argument against Black Graduation is that white students could never have a “White Graduation.” Some find this comparison inappropriate, contending that many blacks are first-generation college students, which makes their accomplishment more meaningful to them and their loved ones.

A reputation management firm called Reppler recently launched a study that found that about 47% of Facebook walls contain some form of profanity. And guess what – it isn’t even you that’s doing all the swearing, it’s your friends!

When you are spiraling, you know that, eventually, you want to lead a good and fulfilling life, but you also need a break from the good and the fulfilling to chase the rush that comes with abandoning responsibility and letting your hedonistic side consume you. People who are spiraling haven’t lost interest in the things they love—they just don’t know what they love anymore.

At the end of it all, I LIKE being this person. This indestructible, entertaining booze-hound, who by anyone outside of a bar would be judged harshly; but I am never seen outside of a bar. Perhaps I am providing my own sanctuary by spending too much time and too much money among these people who I do not look down on, yet they look up to me.

Who says that the world didn’t come to an end, and that the rapture never happened? Yes, the moment that we’ve all been dreading that we didn’t really care about has come to pass — Justin Bieber now has his own brand of perfume. …J-Bieb’s perfume is called “Someday,” and it retails for $35.

The possibility does not escape you that it was this dread itself that caused the very thing you dreaded to happen. A sick joke: whoever is more suspicious that the other person is keeping secrets is always the one who’s worse at holding things back. This time it’s you. The more you try not to give your fears away, the more they seep out of you.

The culture around animated GIFs (‘Graphics Interchange Format’, or briefly-animated images) is exploding. For whatever reason, human beings appear to enjoy watching a few frames of something or anything at all repeat endlessly, and this urge is simultaneously driving and being driven by popular image-sharing services like Tumblr to where it’s hardly avoidable, even if you’re not interested.

An ongoing project by Jonathan Harris and Sep Kamvar, We Feel Fine extracts sentences from blogs with the phrase, “I feel…” aggregates them in a colorful interface with the attempt to portray the nature of the world’s feelings in real time.

The song is essentially all about moving out of your parents house and going away to college. I mean, she talks about spreading your wings and taking a risk, which loosely translates to moving into a 5 x 5 dorm room with a stranger who deals Ecstasy. Right?

Is it problematic that I haven’t ever really done anything rebellious or teenager-ish? Is it going be like people say, where the kids who never did anything bad are the ones that go crazy and lose it in college? Shouldn’t I be working on my final English paper on Nabokov instead of writing this?

Buy most of your clothes in a payday-induced frenzy at Forever 21, the Divided section at H&M, or any discount fashion warehouse. These places are usually found along prominent boulevards in bad areas of your city, and are designated by names like “Fashion 4 U,” “Fashion 4 Less,” or “Ropa Para Toda La Familia.”

Can’t tell if XtendPlay – a company that sells ergonomic add-ons to console controllers who just so happened to plug their product in the above video – is trolling us bigtime here or if this is a real event that people enjoy because they enjoy being naked around other people while they all play video games.

Technology has really turned everyone into a giant flake. We can cancel plans by simply pressing a button on our phone that says “I don’t want to hang out with you.” But back in the day, you were expected to have a certain level of accountability. At least I think you were. I don’t really know because I wasn’t dating or even alive back then. But you know who was? My mommy! So I called her up to ask her a few questions about dating in the ’70s.

It started back in the early 2000s. It was a hot summer, I was done with school and my friend Andrew and I were incredibly bored. Around 10:00am, we were lying around on couches, watching television, thinking aloud as to what we would do for fun that day.

You need to stop saying things like ‘You cannot destroy me. Because I am an art piece’. That line lives next to ‘I’m tired of people not treating me like the gift that I am.’ and you don’t want to end up being Paula Abdul’s next door neighbor.

Fool yourself. A lot. Pretend that his neglect is a side effect of a busy career. Be consoled by his sudden bursts of affection, which you tell yourself just might be the first glimmerings of love. When he compliments you, believe it. Hoard the sweet words like gold dust.

He was born somewhere in Michigan.  He has a mom.  He was raised in a middle-upper class milieu and attended a private high school.  This was somewhat distressing for Chris because he wanted desperately to be “hard,” but you can’t be hard playing basketball in economically-depressed Detroit if you attend a private school. 

She was not much older than me, the both us still relatively new to London and just as broke as each other. Initially we laughed about how little we had in common, she liked drum and bass, and I liked the Spice Girls. She liked going to dubstep nights, and I preferred dressing like a girl and dancing on tables.

Photographer Jon Gustafsson, who famously covered last year’s Eyjafjallajokull eruption – which stymied a good portion of Western European air traffic for days – recently recorded this amazing video of Iceland’s latest erupting pit of lava, Grímsvötn. Aside from the usual snark, I have no words. Video inside.

Hot Docs is the young stud of Toronto film events. Just eighteen years old, it’s already the biggest documentary film festival in North America. I had a press pass and spent ten days watching movies about Mexican drug-war killings and the healing power of dolphins amidst rapt audiences who really hated it when you came in late or wrestled with the packaging on your granola bar. Here is some of what I saw.

I don’t watch television all that much, but every so often I’ll sit down and commit to “vegging out.” And when that happens, I find myself consistently overwhelmed and disappointed – as our options have grown, the value to be derived from watching cable television has withered into nonexistence. Cable television has destroyed the sitcom. 

Your daily looks are the following: I’m Writing My Suicide Note In Boca, Where Downtown Meets Midtown Meltdown, I’m Going Out With Paul The Banker Tonight And I’m Going To Let Him Put It Anywhere, Cocktails With My Gurls,  Audrey Hepburn CLASSIC CHIC, Why Won’t He Call Me Back?, This Is Me Being Serious Right Now, Edgy, More Edgy, Just A Little Bit of Edgy.

Like a dictatorial state, the goal here is basically to censor any expression of less-than-ideal emotions such that it appears, from the outside, as if your partner simply isn’t allowed to voice attitudes that convey the relationship is anything other than ideal.

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