1. You want to thank her for being amazing… both because she is amazing and because you are with a friend who has a stomachache and you are trying to help them barf.
2. You’ve just been arrested and you want to prove that you love her more than freedom. Also, you forgot your lawyer’s phone number.
3. She gave you her number and then asked you to, maybe?
4. You’re in public and there’s a couple having a fight awkwardly close to you.
5. You’re in a cab and the cabbie asks you “Do you go to school in this neighborhood?” It’s becoming clear this cabbie thinks you are not a grown woman, but a 14-year-old boy.
6. Your girlfriend is Tyrone.
7. Your phone rang, but you couldn’t get to it in time. When you pressed *69 your girlfriend’s number came up. Also, it’s the 1980s.
8. You are London and your girlfriend is the faraway town.
9. You’ve used your other two lifelines and Meredith Vieria is staring at you.
10. Your house is teeming with ghosts, ghouls, and spirits, and your girlfriend is a Ghostbuster.
11. It’s also time that you two “had the talk.” But in this case, “the talk” is about how you need more dish soap, and you’re really sorry that you forgot to put it on the list, but you didn’t think she was going to go to the store straight from work. If she had just called you, first, you could have told her, and now she wouldn’t have to go back to the store, and use the piece of sh-t self-service check out register that ALWAYS tells her that ‘the weight is not correct’ just to f-ck with her mind. Moreover, you wouldn’t need to be having this entire dish soap discussion, which is a disproportionally long time to talk about something that doesn’t even have its own scent, because you insist on buying the creepy unscented kind.
12. You’re changing every “i” in your name with “y.”
13. You’re killing time until your next Google+ meet up.
14. It’s not a call; it’s a call of duty, which means you just stare at the phone for hours punching buttons.
15. Your girlfriend works for 311 and there are loose syringes on your sidewalk again.
16. Your girlfriend is addicted to texting and you don’t want to enable her.
17. You are addicted to your own classic merengue ringtone, so you periodically call her and then hang up.
18. You are in the same room, but you are spies.
19. You are in the same room, but you are bored.
20. You are in the same room, but you are spies who got bored.
21. You want to let her know that you do not plan on having any kind of talk with her any time soon. Robyn can’t push you around. Eff you, Robyn! Just kidding, Robyn, you can hang with me.
22. This is a horror movie, you are deranged, and you’re inside the house!
23. You wanted to let her know that earlier, when she wasn’t there, you just called to say you love her. But you’re not going to say it on this call; this is just the call to inform her of your intentions when you made the first call. This is purely a notification — James Taylor-style.
24. She just paged you. Also, you’re a doctor or a drug dealer in the 1990s.
25. You are a professional football coach on the sidelines and she is the defensive coordinator in the pressbox. Here’s hoping your linebackers manage to drop into pass coverage.
26. Your girlfriend is Debbie Harry.

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1. They butt heads like rams.

MAYBE WE’RE A LITTLE BUZZED, BUT WE AREN’T DRUNK!

Except we totally are. For whatever reason, a girl’s first reaction to being the least bit drunk is to deny deny deny. I can tell by your glassy stare and the fact that you’ve complimented my eye brows five times that you’re three sheets to the wind — however, you will deny repeating yourself, ask if you can transplant my eyebrows to your face, and tell me once again that you are not drunk.

While the drunk/not drunk argument is the first thing that sloshed girls will butt heads with you about but, it is certainly not the last. Conversations between a drunk girl (DG) and sober person (SP) go a little something like this:

DG: What’s the name of that librarian from high school who wore weird clothes?

SP: Mrs. Stevens.

DG: No! Not her! The one with the puffy shirts and the mustache!

SP: It’s Mrs. Stevens. Remember, we all called her “Captain Stevens.”

DG: No, no the other pirate-ey one!

SP: I’m 100 percent positive it’s her; I had her for home room all four years.

DG: “YOU ARE F-CKING WRONG AND WE CAN ONLY SETTLE THIS DEBATE THROUGH A LOUD BAR ALTERCATION OR CAGE MATCH.

See how quickly that escalated? For your own sake, agree to disagree and move on.

2. They dance like penguins.

When trying to find a mate, penguins do a “courtship dance” to impress their potential love interest. Girls are no different. Except instead of looking for a life partner, we’re just looking for someone (ANYONE!) to grind up on us and show the least bit of attention. And so, we dance. Ludacris says he wants “a lady in the street but a freak in the bed” but most girls are ladies in the street and strippers on the sweaty crowded dance floor. Even girls who aren’t slutty in real life know that all guys enjoy sex (major revelation), so we decide to transform from Gina the lovable sister/aunt/law student to Krystal the naughty nurse who knows her way around a pole. We know that our future husbands will laugh at this ridiculous behavior and appreciate our brains more than any dry humping dance move but for now we’re lonely and desperate for attention, so we booty drop and bring it up slow.

3. They spread love like huskies.

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, meet Mishka (above).

Take a few minutes to decompress because if you love that dog as much as I do, you’re a little worked up right now. Ok so, Mishka howls “I love youuuu” with no abandon and God damn it so do we. Before drunk chicks get sad, mean, or sleepy they love to tell everyone how much they well, love them. The bartender opened our beer? Love him. That girl in the bathroom was in our freshman seminar? Love her. The person who’s engagement photos we stalked on Facebook but have never met in person before? Love you. (And your ring by the way.) In all these scenarios we love you and we’re not afraid to say it. We’ll shout/howl it from the rooftops, even if it means admitting to Facebook stalkery. But trust me, this won’t last long; it’s simply the calm before the storm.

4. They strut like peacocks.

When peacocks want attention they spread their feathers and work it. When drunk girls want attention they spread their… wallets and buy a skanky dress from H&M. Dancing on the bar, screaming song lyrics, befriending the DJ; it’s all deadly. When a girl wants attention, believe me — she’ll get it. Even if that means knocking you down on the dance floor. You’ve been warned.

5. They bite heads off like praying mantises.

The female praying mantis is known to bite her partner’s head off after mating. Luckily girls do not do this in the literal sense, but they will figuratively bite your head off like it’s their job. Want to test this theory? Go ahead and see what happens when you try taking a wasted friend home and her vodka-soda-splash-of-cranberry-clouded mind insists that she is having an awesome time and HAS to stay. She doesn’t seem to notice that the heel on one shoe broke off and… yep, her other foot’s bleeding. It’s not a good situation. And when I say it’s not a good situation, I’m not just talking about blood loss, I’m saying that we get MEAN. Not “leave me alone” mean, but “your ex-boyfriend told me you had cankles” mean. We will go there.

Although most guys think that women are pretty outwardly judgmental as it is, I can promise that there’s plenty more where that came from. There are about 12,000 other judgmental wheels turning in a female’s brain at all times. We’re not horrible people, it’s just how we’re wired. What makes us nice people/functioning members of society is our ability to limit these thoughts and see people for the traits that really matter. For the most part, I try to keep unfair judgements to a minimum, although none of my judgements are unfair (don’t ironically wear skinny suspenders and expect me to be open-minded about it). OK — so maybe when my sister and I people-watch at the airport we’re a little judgey. OK — we might as well be Don Rickles. (I think we once said that someone looked like a computer programmer who got hit with a pan.) And boyfriends: just get the f-ck out of the way when you see this tornado of judgement headed in your direction. We will bring up everything that you have ever done wrong in the history of your existence on this earth and by then you’ll be wishing we had literally bitten your head off.

6. They cry like elephants.

First of all, google imaging “elephants crying” is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do in my life. I have a really strong affinity for all things elephant because they are majestic, oversized, and sassy; what’s not to love? Somewhere along the way I learned that elephants are one of the few animals that produce tears of sadness. The elephant cries after a member of the herd dies or they are reunited with a loved one. The drunk girl cries because the pizza delivery guy said she had to pay cash. On New Year’s Eve I cried because I wanted my Mom and she was two rooms away. And don’t even mention the fact that we’re single, because that is like opening pandora’s box of issues/tissues. It’s no secret that women are emotional creatures who feel a lot of feelings, so don’t act surprised when a little vino opens the flood gates. (I recommend a nice bottle of Pinot Grigio and this.

7. They eat like dinosaurs.

Hell hath no fury like a hungry drunk girl. A drunk girl who wants (NEEDS) food is more dangerous then an angry dinosaur who wants her stolen egg back. (We’ve all seen The Flinstones Movie. You haven’t? You don’t get my obscure references? Too bad.) I eat a lot sober so it’s no surprise that after a night of drinking I inhale whatever’s in front of me. But luckily, drunk eating is not the worst for girls like me; it’s the worst for girls who survive primarily on lettuce. When these girls get drunk, let me tell you, they LET LOOSE. I’ve seen a 5’2”, 110 lb. girl eat 3 pieces of pizza, two quesadillas, and and a half pan of brownies in under eight minutes. That’s more caloric action than that girl’s gotten in the last three months. Drinking lowers our eating inhibitions by erasing all the caloric information we’ve spent years obtaining. And not only is our caloric guard down, but drinking is like taking some magic pill that makes even the shittiest pizza (only ordered because the place is open ‘til 4 a.m.) taste like it was cooked by Mario Batalli. Try ordering whatever delicious thing you ate last night the following day. I’ve done it and  trust me, you will not be happy. Jimmy John’s is not meant to be eaten in the light of day.

8. They hibernate like bears.

I have never passed out from drinking. I have, however, fallen asleep quite often. And once we’re “asleep” there is no turning back. Once both eyes shut, we are officially dead weight that can only be moved by the strength of two large lumberjacks. Go ahead, try waking us up; it’s not gonna happen. We’ve stored up on chicken tenders and mozz sticks for the long winter’s nap; do not wake us until morning.

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Here is a non-exhaustive list I kept of the things that grossed me out while on my post- college journey of self-discovery. Rated on a scale of 1-10.

1. Being propositioned by a 60-something fat Frenchman

I had three weeks to kill in Bangkok so I bought a map, and every morning I would pick a different part of town to explore. One day, that part of town was an ex-patriot area known for its mix of white middle aged business men and establishments offering various forms of “entertainment” to satisfy their lonely hearts. Lucky for me, this area was also teeming with western food. Since I had not eaten cheese, bread or drank wine for about four months, when I saw a modern looking grocery store with air-con, it seemed like an oasis. Upon entering, I was elated to see several tables set up giving free samples. Jackpot!

As I began to revel in these small pieces of joy, a large, plump and graying European male approached me. We started chatting and before I knew it, I was repeating back to him his hotel address and room number so we could meet up later. A nice dinner, he said, would do me well. Also, he said, he could use some company. As our conversation was ending, he leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek. As he pulled away, with his head lingering close to mine, he winked and promised to make our dinner date “worth my time.” Not for all the free croissants in the world. EW.

Gross factor: 7.

2. Finding hundreds of tiny ants in my dirty underwear

Five years later this STILL makes me squirm. The said undergarments were not even involved in an accident, nor overused. After the initial shock wore off, I couldn’t help but wonder if this means I have a pleasant, or perhaps desirable taste? Do I posses some kind of life giving force? Were they bringing this delicacy back to their queen? Ants are after all, a highly intelligent sort. To this day I often inspect my underwear for creepy crawlies before making contact.

Gross factor: 10.

3. Six-year-old enthusiastically eating eyes

As the villagers ate their fishy feast, a bowl was passed around in which people discarded the eyeballs of their respective fish. It was a waste bowl like that used for edamame shells. The bowl ended its sojourn in the hands of an adorable little girl who devoured them in seconds with one of the biggest smiles of delight I had ever seen. Kind of cute, kind of gross.

Gross factor: 4.

4. Tailless gecko living in my toilet

I’m not sure why this has remained such a vivid image in my memory. It may be because in recent history, geckos have been associated with big green leaves, car insurance and Hawaiian shirts. Regardless, people are ALWAYS happy to see geckos. They are like a sign of the tropics. You are on vacation! Let’s watch it eat flies! It’s so cute! Well, the life of a gecko is not all rainbows. For a week, a pale, miserable looking and almost motionless gecko hung out at the bottom of my dingy beach hut toilet. We’ll call him Frank. Adding to Frank’s seemingly pathetic existence was that he was missing his tail.

Well, it would be wrong of me to assume that he was missing his tail. He could have been happy it was gone, I don’t know. But why Frank made the gross list is the manner in which the tail appeared to be lost. Its removal left this hollow, empty, inward-cone like abyss on it’s backside. Frank could of been hollow on the inside, but somehow, he lived. He survived a decapa-tailation. Every time I peed I hoped excess water-soluble vitamins would somehow help him regain vitality.

Gross factor: 6.

5. Giant frog falling from the ceiling straight onto my face while trying to fall asleep

No further explanation needed.

Gross factor: 5. Shock factor: 10.

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1. You can’t make someone fall in love with you.

I was head-over-heels in like with the same blonde-haired, blue-eyed vision all throughout middle school. He dominated my every waking thought and was the absolute star of the Backstreet Boy diary I kept underneath my bed. Unfortunately for me, he was always on-again off-again with my arch-enemy, this totally bitchy girl who used to slip hate-notes into my locker and throw my stuff away in the dumpster. I was forever trying to find new ways to drag my prince away from this Juicy-sweatpant-wearing, evil step queen; unfortunately, though, it was all for naught. Fortunately, however, ten years later, I’m in a wonderfully adult relationship with a guy who I didn’t even have to bribe with spaghetti straps and Fun Dip in order to fall in love with me. He did it all on his own. Sometimes being grown up really is all it’s cracked up to be.

2. You might not be as hot and/or stylish as you think.

When I was 12-years-old, I genuinely thought I was a good-looking, fashionable contribution to society. I now look back on this sentiment with horror and self-disdain. What made me think I was God’s gift to my tiny private school??? I mean, I had poorly-straightened, mud-colored hair, a huge stye on my eye for like a year and a half, and constant visible aftermath of the 19-ish oral surgeries I underwent as a preteen. I wore glittery T-shirts that made brash statements like “Don’t hate me cuz I’m beautiful, hate me cuz your boyfriend thinks so” and platform mary janes that legitimately made me look like a clown. Anyway, this is all to say that I’m deeply and truly concerned about being in my 30’s and hating my current 22-year-old self. What am I doing now that is, unbeknownst to me, totally unforgiveable? What is my modern-day equivalent of fluorescent-colored butterfly clips and “99% angel” keychains???? The fear keeps me up at night.

3. You’re not as sneaky as you think you are.

Somewhere between the time my 7th grade science teacher caught me creating gel-pen body art during class and the time my mom caught me discussing the merits of The Eminem Show on the phone past my bedtime, it became painfully clear to me that I am not a sly person. I’m much better at being blatant than I am at being subtle, which is why I now tend to do things like eat with my hands like a bear and drop it low in inappropriate places. We can’t all be blessed with poise and grace.

4. Physical activity will always suck.

As a doe-eyed 12-year-old, I may not have yet understood the horrors of disease, abuse, and death; I did, however, fully relate to the terrible fate that was pulling on a pair of locker-room-smelling gym shorts and being forced out to the P.E. field like cattle. My phys-ed teachers totally hated me, and frankly, I don’t blame them — I played with my hair during capture the flag, shamelessly got myself tagged out within the first 30 seconds of dodgeball, and walked a 22-minute-mile while my peers were running a seven-minute one. Ten years later, I go to the gym out of my own free will, and while I don’t hate it, I’m not gonna sit here and tell you that I love it. I feel very little for the gym; on the scale of things I’m passionate about, I would put it right above lasagna and right below Coldplay.

5. Girls will, unfortunately, be girls.

I won’t even go into all the girl sh-t that went down during my formative years; it pains me to remember it and if you’re looking for petty content, you can just turn on Bravo. I’ll simply say this: girls are the worst. They just are. I don’t care if that’s not a feminist thing to say, and I definitely don’t care if it’s a stereotype. I learned in middle school that when it comes to girls, you gotta find the good ones, stick to them like they are the air you breathe, protect them like they’re your first-born children, and never, ever let them believe they’re fat. Case closed.

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1. Make sure the sexiest of your three part-time jobs is the one that’s visible on your Facebook. Unless you studied something relatively marketable (read: Engineering, Accounting), chances are high that you — like I — are juggling multiple jobs to pay for rent/car insurance/food/something-to-do-besides-sitting-on-your-couch-and-watching-hulu. Since Facebook only makes one employer visible, you’ll put up the one that impresses people most — even if you only do it for five hours a week. A similar section could be titled, “List yourself as a graduate student as soon you get accepted, even if it’s seven months before classes start.”

2. Shyly make an online dating profile. Tell anyone who asks about it that a friend made it for you. Delete it a few months later. There’s something terrifying about not being in a condensed community of your peers anymore. When every person you walk by isn’t within 5-ish years of you and relatively attractive, you start to believe that you’re the only twenty-two year old out there. Fear of life-long loneliness will likely compel you to your laptop at 1 AM, and your fingers will — almost uncontrollably — type out the supposed solution to your terror: Match or eHarmony or OkCupid or whatever. If you’re anything like me, after a few failed attempts — and a bucket-full of weird-ass intro sentences — you’ll decide that you’d rather risk eternal solitude than get another email.

3. Realize that traveling doesn’t fix your problems. A week after I graduated, I was on a transatlantic flight to London for a three-week trip across Western Europe. I traveled because I expected new cities to whisper some ancestral secret to me. I expected them to reflect my destiny on the buildings of their foreign downtowns, that the anxieties that haunted me in San Diego would somehow stay there if I flew away fast enough. Maybe it’s because I was reading The Bell Jar, or maybe it’s because I’d been traveling for a couple weeks by then, but in a second-story coffee shop in Berlin I realized that wherever I traveled, my same, age-old neuroses would follow: My fears, and regrets, and unresolved conflicts snuck their way into my suitcase and spilled out onto the hostel-room floor along with my boxers. Plath says it best, “If [she] had given me a ticket to Europe, or a round-the-world cruise, it wouldn’t have made one scrap of a difference to me, because wherever I sat — on the deck of a ship or at a street café in Paris or Bangkok — I would be sitting under the same glass bell jar, stewing in my own sour air.” The trick, I’ve learned, is finding the courage to lift the jar wherever I find myself.

4. Hope that the professor who told you that your future held amazing things was really thinking long-term. I was eating a box of Mozzarella Cheez-Its. Well, I was halfway through it, if we’re being honest, and I wiped the crumbs that were clinging to my lips onto my stomach, which is when I lifted my gaze to the rest of the room: a pile of clean-but-unfolded laundry was at the foot of my bed; six books were dustily stacked on my dresser, the ones I bought after graduating and swore I’d read this year; my bank statement was unopened on my nightstand; 30-Rock was looping on my laptop.  Maybe a decent scene for a Saturday afternoon, but — tragically — it was 2:30 on a Tuesday. This first year is tough: Trying to find your voice and put into practice all the dreams you spent time refining in undergrad, the ones your professors said maybe — just maybe — could change the world for the better.

To my fellow recent grads: If your feet have dragged, if you’ve found yourselves deflated and painfully lonely — know that you’re not the only one who’s trying to make his way through the cloud of hookah smoke that is your first post-grad year. Here’s hoping the second one’s is a bit brighter.

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1. Never go full hooker.
2. If you can blame white people, patriarchy or the colonizing West within the first five minutes of class discussion, it’s acceptable to spend the rest of the hour on Twitter.
3. In drinking, sex, working out and studying for finals, if you look better after or during it than before, you’re doing it wrong.
4. Frat boys are far more likely to do you a favor if you wear a sundress when you ask.
5. If your male friend ends a text with a smiley face, he’s trying to have sex with you.
6. If your female friend ends a text with a smiley face, she’s trying not to be a b-tch.
7. Delicate negotiations among roommates are best approached with a tray of something warm and Nutella-scented in hand.
8. Weeknight going-out clothes should either show off one’s boobs or one’s legs. Doing both and doing neither are frowned upon equally.
9. LinkedIn is for sober, earnest, employable you; Facebook is for mobile-upload-blurry, tipsy-but-not-yet-sloppy you. And having a Pinterest account is a telltale sign that you’re taking your M.R.S. degree far too seriously, or that you’re a Gwyneth Paltrow/ a robot.
10. Spontaneous nudity makes any occasion more memorable.
11. Sleeping with someone because you’ve seen him on ESPN is a poor decision, but a great story.
12. What “no makeup” really means is just undereye concealer, foundation, blush and a little mascara.
13. Any sister who’s eating buttercream cake frosting out of the jar probably doesn’t want to talk.
14. It’s best to be solidly mediocre at drinking games.
15. No one worth paying attention to has ever worn weightlifting gloves to the gym.
16. Dressing up, baking and booking any kind of travel itinerary are all activities best completed sober.
17. Say you “love sports” and you’ll start a cute flirtation. Say you “think John Groce was probably the wrong choice for Illinois, but pretty much anyone’s a step up from Bruce Weber,” and 15 minutes later you’ll be shotgunning beers and wishing you wish you’d worn flats.
18. Of all the places you can choose to vomit, into your own running shoe is one of the most regrettable.
19. House flip cup rules are to be f-cked with at one’s own peril.
20. When there’s no rubbing alcohol to clean up an injury, Skol vodka is an acceptable substitute.
21. The sister who holds your hair in a bathroom stall is a good friend, but the sister who holds your hand at a pharmacy counter is your best friend.
22. Emotional validation is always a welcome way of showing someone how much you care. So is a cupcake.
23. Pickle juice and high fives are the best chasers.
24. If you have shower sex in the sorority house bathroom, you deserve it when your sisters slow-clap your entrance at breakfast.
25. There’s always a casualty when there’s Jaegermeister involved.

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1. Whether Ron and Sam are currently together.
2. $1 off on Easy-mac/ Gushers/ Shark Bites/ Capri Sun.
3. Whether my high school prom queen has a boyfriend.
4. Whether my high school boyfriend has a boyfriend.
5. The f-cking awesome vacation you took that week while I was at work, eating canned soup so I could put a pathetic $50 toward my student loan interest payments.
6. Who has looked at my LinkedIn profile.  
7. That your script “got a producer.”  What does that even mean?
8. My ex-boyfriend’s fiances wedding ring.
9. Brunch plans.
10. Where you got your Adderall.  
11. The Winklevii.  
12. Your inane Twitter page / Klout score / Foursquare mayoral appointments.
13. The Justin Bieber concert coming to town in July.
14. That Lena Dunham is younger than me.  
15. That you understand what buying stocks is.  
16. Your humble-brag online Facebook personality. 
17. The haircut I just got, which is a cross between Johann Sebastian Bach and the Super Mario character, Toad.
18. Every outfit Kate Middleton has ever worn.  
19. The perfect ass of the girl in my ballet-fit class.  
20. The Buddha.  
21. Where are they now: every Saved By the Bell member.  
22. Whether you think I’m cool or not, you being anyone on the planet.  
23. My GPA, in comparison with yours.
24. My salary, in comparison with yours.  
25. Pop psychology.

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image – Clueless

Commencement is our Reaping.

We dress up in our Sunday finest (or equivalent for us pagans) and feed into the administration’s plans for our presentation. Loud speakers boom with ominous voices as we line up for our entrance. Our procession is predetermined and practiced, robotic as Reaping Day yet infused with forced eagerness. Our parents look on and understand all too well what we are about to experience, and they sit with mixed excitement and dread. Either way, our beds are ready just in case we come home.

The speeches are the same.

The Chancellor’s words and commencement addresses all basically conclude with “May the odds be ever in your favor.”

We are fed as if preparing for the Games.

If you are a recent graduate, you are probably still reveling in the immense amount of 5-star food provided you these past few days. No longer are the days of hunting for our meals (in the treacherous dining halls); instead, briefly, we are spoiled with the classiest food before we plunge into a world of constant Ramen noodles.

The real world is our arena.

It might look like the average world of the Districts, but once you enter into the work place, it’s a dog-eat-dog (or trackerjacker-sting-trackerjacker) world where you will constantly compete to stay on top. We dress ourselves in the most fitting-of-Cinna professional attire and plop into the arena with our own weapons: resumes and portfolios. The cornucopia might hold that tenure track or sought-after promotion but it’ll be booby-trapped along the way by conniving enemies and unforeseen obstacles alike.

The Careers still exist.

There are inevitably two kinds of graduates. Some approach the process with intense excitement, arrogantly confident in their ability to conquer their future careers and thrive with continued success. These individuals tend to be our future consultants and investment bankers, bred by the Economics department to unapologetically climb to the top.

Meanwhile, you have a massive population of hesitant other tributes, anxiously awaiting the unknown of the future. These are your idealists (like myself), sworn to non-profit work no matter how close that puts us near the poverty line. We all like to think that we will be the future Katniss or Peeta of the world, attractive, idealistic, athletic and capable of making a difference. But some of us will fall like dear Rue and capitulate to the demands of the real world.

There is always someone to defy the system.

Our graduating rebels are those who fist pump across the stage (a frat move fitting of Gale), moon-walking with diploma in hand (Rue’s light on her feet, right?) or wearing something absolutely absurd. Regardless, our Peetas and Katnisses provide the necessary relief from this otherwise daunting process.

In the end, we all must face the reality of Games and no matter the challenge, we’ll go out with pride and determination.

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1. What your baby did today.
2. The weather.
3. Your boyfriend’s band.
4. What it means if he usually texts you at 10:15 but today he didn’t text until 10:21.
5. What price you paid for your outfit.
6. Interest rates.
7. What’s under the hood of your car.
8. The fact that, at first, you thought your shirt was black but when you put it on with your skirt you realized it was navy.
9. Math.
10. Grammar.
11. Why Greek yogurt is better than regular.
12. What not owning a TV has taught you.
13. How much you can bench.
14. What’s inside that hot dog.
15. How difficult it was to select a venue for your wedding.
16. The “terrible customer service” you got at McDonalds.
17. Etsy.
18. Music before 1960.
19. That it’s actually faster to drive home the other way.
20. What you do in the bedroom, if you aren’t my three closest friends or the person I’m seeing.
21. YOUR LAST GIRLFRIEND.
22. Libertarians.
23. “The South.”
24. Tan lines.
25. My horoscope, unless it’s good.
26. Award shows.
27. Abortion.
28. Throwing away “home decor” given to me by distant relatives.
29. What anyone got on the ACTs past age 18.
30. Leadership classes.
31. Ugly dogs.
32. The time you kissed someone of the same sex and “totally” thought you were gay.
33. Your Kickstarter project.
34. Art projects.
35. Boycotts.
36. Nutella.
37. Instagram.
38. Banksy.
39. Spilled milk/vodka.
40. CRAFT COCKTAILS.
41. Anything Ann Romney has to say.
42. Germs, for the most part.
43. How offensive “______” is.
44. Comic book movies.
45. That the winning “Bachelor” couples never stay together.
46. That a 6-year-old went tanning. (It was one time?)
47. How “slutty” someone is dressed.
48. Carrie Bradshaw-isms
49. How everyone calls him your “work husband.”
50. What your puke tasted like.

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Instead of taking notes and studying like a normal student, I have decided to memorize my philosophers and what they did/thought based upon how they would be as lovers. I’m sure my Catholic college would be very proud of me at this moment.

This semester, we covered the ancients and medievalists, which is to say that we covered the boring philosophers. Because who feels like talking about Aristotle once there is Nietzsche to discuss? But, because I have studied and thoroughly analyzed their theories, opinions, and metaphysics, I have come to the conclusion that some of them would not have been all that bad. Here’s why:

Plato

He would have been my ancient-world lover, for sure. I mean, yeah, he had a thing for guys, but he was a Greek — they all sorta did. That doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t want a woman when he could get one. Now reasons why he would be awesome in the sack (or maybe we could do it at the Academy?): he was an idealist and believed that life was a mere shadow of the transcendent forms. Clearly, Plato had a beautiful soul imprisoned within his body. But hey, as long as he has a body, he might as well make use of it and seek a higher good, ya know? Also, might be able to have a kinky threesome with him and Socrates — or maybe, we could get Aristophanes and have a Symposium.

Aristotle

Sex with him would probably be really technical and complicated, and I am afraid that he might criticize me. However, he was also all about sense perception and using the imagination to create phantasms (a.k.a. fantasies) so… Also, he seemed to think that the sense of touch was critical for human survival. Might not be so bad after all.

Plotinus

Don’t know a helluva lot about him, but he was sort of like Plato so he has to be decent, right? And we could experience the fall of the soul together because our lower souls, controlled by our bodies and sense perception, would mistake our lust for one another for love. Oh well. Better to reign in hell…wait, that was Milton.

Augustine

Probably would have been amazing! First he was absolutely brilliant, and he fully believed in making beautiful memories as a gateway to the soul. He seems like a sensitive bad boy, and we all know what that means! But then, he found God and started to feel bad about all of his licentious acts and had to refrain from sins of the body. Damn Catholic guilt!

Aquinas

NOT EVEN GOING THERE!

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