My closet is equal parts sleek, professional business wear and graphic tees/weird sweatshirts with sloths on them.

When faced with the choice to make my own damn Mac n’ Cheese or to order takeout for the third time this week, I will choose the takeout. Every time.

I throw a mini temper tantrum just before I leave to go to class, because I hate responsibilities that much.

I once skipped a class to watch a four-minute YouTube video. I’m not kidding. I could not put off a four-minute video until after class, so I watched it, and decided to just skip instead of being maybe ten minutes late to the lecture.

The best first date I ever went on involved vigorous sex, then drinking grape Kool-Aid afterwards as we watched “The Emperor’s New Groove”

I once sat in my car for twenty minutes because I thought a piece of hose on the ground outside was a snake and I was too scared to get out of my vehicle.

I’ve been known to hold entire conversations using dialogue from the “Pirates of the Caribbean” movies.

I have no idea how to dress myself for a job interview, but have always been more than prepared for a Marvel midnight premiere (Thor helmet and hammer anyone?)

I have written a collegiate admissions essay about the impact female comic book characters have had in the genre and in popular literature, as a whole.

No term paper will ever be as important as finishing “just one more episode” of “Mad Men”.

Every time I walk in high heels, if you listen closely you can hear me muttering “Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god” with every step I take.

The only “working out” I’ve done lately is getting my Shakira on when my roommate is gone for the weekend (Because my hips don’t lie!)

I refer to my birth control pills as “offspring preventative”. This includes calling them such in the presence of my doctor, my parents, my lovers, and the lady from the pharmacy

After breaking up with a guy, I wrote a eulogy to his penis (you will be sorely missed) and sent it to him. This was not the mature thing to do.

I manage money really well… until I go on Etsy and blow all my money on tribal print pants and shirts with Robert Downey Jr.’s face on them.

My 21^st birthday celebration consisted of a trip to Disneyworld with my best friend. We spent more time taking pictures with princes than we did drinking.

Whenever I get sick, I call my mother and make her walk me through the process of how I should begin to take care of myself, even though she lives twelve hours away and can’t really do much to help me.

I own a really nice desk that I’m very proud of. I have also never swept underneath this desk and the floor where the desk meets the wall looks like the surface of the moon, if the surface of the moon was made of hair, tortilla chip crumbs, and lint.

I once said that I would never put the time and effort into being a parent, since I could have a dog and dogs are cuter than babies anyways… I said this in the presence of an expectant mother.

One time I hooked-up with a guy fourteen years older than me and referred to myself as a “20-year-old baby” while we were in bed together…things got real weird after that.

While at a babysitting job, I once told a 6-year-old I was “getting real sick of [his] shit.” 

Like this? Read this: our bestselling ebook How To Be a 20-Something.