I get up early. Real mother-effing early. Like so early, you’d think I’m a student-athlete.
That fifth floor bathroom is just calling your name. You swallow your pride, head up the stairs, see the beautiful, little green tab – vacant.
Aw, it's adorable that we have a third person sharing our living space. I love waking up and not being able to use the bathroom because you guys are having shower sex.
For both, no one knows how it got this bad and there isn’t really much that can be done to fix it now.
“It’s okay, though, don’t worry about me,” I said to address their grimaces. “My husband is going to be rich. Like really rich. Probably richer than everyone in that lecture hall, actually.”
If you're going to violently curse your professor's dead relatives and weep into your hands, you're gonna have to take it down juuuuust a few decibels.
I consider myself an herbalist. No, not in the I-smoke-pot-everyday way, but more in my tendency to consume a small cup of single-origin green tea every day.
There are only so many reasons someone would be at a Frogro past 11 at night and none of them involve good decision making skills.
Apart from the usual things I expected from my time at home for Thanksgiving, I was not expecting the new slang that my Grandma had picked up.
Midterms are worth 50% of the overall grade anyways, so all you have to do is sober up by the next one so you don’t sleep through it like you slept through the first two.
Hey, I know we barely know each other, and I don’t really bring anything to the table vis-à-vis with respect to passing this exam, but you know what I do have? Two bricks and a wheat.
Yes Mom, these bruises on my neck are from when I fell down the stairs of my apartment building.
Guys, what’s the deal with the bathroom in Hayden Hall? I say bathroom because, in this three-story building, there is only one.
I know you think your confidence and good looks are intimidating, but I’m here to tell you that women aren’t intimidated by you — you’re just an asshole.
Coming in hot at number 4 are Stacey and Jeff. It was not so wild to me that Stacey and Jeff did that.
As I carefully scrutinize men's grammar, hairstyles, and mirror pic to non-mirror pic ratio, I receive a Gmail notification and feel a tingle.
This year, however, I cannot be fulfilled by a five-bedroom on Baltimore. Having a roof over your head is great, but what I really need right now is the chance to start anew.
I was hanging out with my girlfriend Katie. No, no, not Katie Smith — we broke up last month.
It’s Friday evening and you just got out of writing seminar, your loins aflame. For the past hour and half you have ogled the sexiest man you have ever had the pleasure of ogling. His name is Jeff, and he is one hot tamale.
Freshman Fall often lends itself to intimate suitemate bonding — you'll likely see them cry, laugh, and even vomit within the first two days of NSO.