A Detailed Schedule for a New Years Spent Alone

This year, I will be spending New Years Eve at home by myself. This is not a choice I made willingly, nor is it the first time that I have found myself in this situation. It’s pretty much the same story every time I come home for the holidays – my friends hang around town for the first week or so, and then jet off to various destinations the day after Christmas, where they typically remain until well after the New Year. This leaves me with three options for New Years Eve:

1) Call up friends from high school that I’ve lost touch with.

2) Hang out with parents and parents’ friends.

3) Stay home alone.

99 Things You Could Do Instead of Laundry

Okay but this is a great picture.

1. Eat cheese.

2. Pluck your eyebrows.

3. Get a pet rock.

4. Boil some spaghetti and use it as pet rock hair.

5. Put your spaghetti-wigged pet rock on someone’s porch. Ring the bell and run away.

6. Wait until it’s dark out. Turn on the lights, roll up your shades, and perform for the passersby outside your window.

7. Go to a restaurant by yourself.

8. GET OFF MY LAWN.

9. Clean all of the dirt out from the spaces between the keys on your laptop.

10. Eat cheese.

7 Unexpected Changes After Two Weeks In Off-Campus Housing

If only my kitchen had this much counter space.

1. I feel guilty for feeding myself.

For the most part, I am happy to be done with meal plans. Never again will I need to resort to a bucket of cloudy ice cream water to clean my ice cream scooper, and for that I am eternally grateful. But the good thing about meal plans is that you’re charged a flat rate. The pain of parting with your hard-earned money is concentrated into large, but infrequent, payments. The real world is not so merciful, administering small doses of guilt whenever you buy groceries or pay for a meal. Even if you end up spending less money overall than on a meal plan, there is no escaping the constant reminders of your shrinking bank account.

9 Reasons Going to the Movies Alone is Actually Super Rad

You’re basically the MLK Jr. of film-goers.

While I fully appreciate the convenience of Netflix, Hulu, and Comcast On Demand, I usually prefer to see movies in the theater. A trip to the theater is an event. Movie theaters provide a change in scenery, access to the grossest foods you could dream of, and a much-needed break from my nonexistent life at Northwestern.

Luckily, here at Northwestern, there are literally thousands of nerds to choose from when it comes to finding a movie buddy.  There was no shortage of people to accompany me to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part I, The Lion King in 3D, and Wreck-it Ralph. I even managed to find a person with whom I could watch trees, cosmic swirls, and a stern-looking Brad Pitt on a loop for 139 minutes in The Tree of Life.

The 6 Types of People There Are

JLaw, of course, is in a class all for herself. We just wanted to include a picture of her.

1. People who say “I” instead of “me” in an attempt to appear intelligent, but who really should be saying “me”, given the grammatical context

Example: “People like you and I don’t care about what anyone else thinks.”

These people are liars who a) do care about what everyone thinks, as evidenced by their pathetic attempt to fool others into believing that they passed 5^th grade Language Arts, and who b) are actually quite unintelligent.

A Super Scary [Northwestern] Halloween Story! (Rated R)

Rated R. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

It was a dark, eerie, and generally creepy night. A heavy mist hung in the air. Even if every Northwestern student hadn’t already been studying in Main Libs, they would have had a hard time spotting the mysterious hooded figure lurking outside the library doors. That’s how misty it was.

Also, it was Halloween and everything was super scary!!!!!!!!!!!!

“An entire library’s worth of ex-Valedictorian brains,” said the mysterious hooded figure in what he imagined to be the vocal styling of Smerdyakov from Brothers Karamazov, “I finally have everything I need to complete my evil plan – ” he broke into a violent cough fit (most likely a permanent consequence of his dependence on Tic Tacs and other drugs) before finishing, “everything I need to complete my evil planetarium!” He let out a crazy, high-pitched laugh, and immediately regretted it because he was alone and it was awkward.

His name was Dan, by the way.

Shaking it off, Dan turned and fake-confidently strode into the library. After a not-so-discrete 30-second struggle with the WildCard reader, he was in. He walked down the stairs, carefully avoiding the gazes of the 14 or so computer-users whom he’d met at parties but was too socially inept to acknowledge. It’s okay, he told himself, People at Northwestern are used to this kind of thing. Dan sat down at a computer, opened Google Chrome, clicked the address bar, and typed “spells tomake peoele do things for you that they dont watn to do.” He got what he needed, stood up, and walked towards a bench near the middle of the library’s lobby/foyer-thing. He stepped on top of the bench, sizing up the crowd. He cleared his throat.

“STUDENTS OF NORTHWESTERN UNIVERSITY” he began, in all caps, “IF YOU WILL KINDLY LOWER YOUR VOICES. I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT.” This was unnecessary because they were all in a Quiet Zone. Now that the room remained at the same level of non-noise, Dan continued speaking in some caps but mostly in the lower case:

“I speak to you on Halloween night, one of the most notoriously social nights of the year, from the library LOL. (Don’t u have friends???!!? LOL.) I could draw this whole spiel out if I wanted to, but basically I’m building an evil planetarium and I need your help and I Googled spells that will make you do it … so yeah. I also have Halloween candy as an incentive for cooperation. My name is Dan. I’m evil, scary, and spooky. It is Halloween. I will now take questions. Questions? Anyone?”

For several moments everyone was quiet, partly because this was a Quiet Zone but mostly because this guy was super scary and it was Halloween. At last, someone mustered the courage to speak:

“How can a planetarium be ev – ”

“Ugghhhhhhhh. Please just shut up. Seriously? You’re seriously asking me how a planetarium – a planetarium – could be evil? Gee, I don’t know! Maybe the constellations won’t have names on them or anything? Because then, you know, you’d need to find them yourself, which would be, like, super hard, and … you know what? Just take my word for it. This planetarium will be evil. Any good questions before I set curses on/withhold candy from you all?”

The library continued to be as quiet as ever. Or at least it was, until a girl named Reese from Dan’s Russian Lit discussion let out an audible “hehe :P”.

“I want to yell a pun about Snickers (as in laughter and candy) and Reese’s (as in the girl’s name and peanut butter cups) but I can’t think of one that sounds good! Stop your giggling, or I will do magic on you to make you fall in love with me. We’ll get all the way to third base. That’s right – we’ll clip each other’s toenails. How does that sound?”

Reese, genuinely scared, stopped talking. This was getting explicit.

“That’s what I thought. Anyone else have anything to say?”

No one said a word. Everything continued to be eerie and R-rated. Also, since this is a Halloween story, zombies, goblins, werewolves, and Representative Todd Akin (R-MO) were there. There were no vampires.

Suddenly:

“Dan.”

Heads turned in the direction of the voice, which was coming from a blonde girl behind the checkout desk. She stood up, brought her hand to her forehead, and pulled off what was apparently a wig to reveal a shiny mane of thick, black hair.

“It’s me – Selena Gomez. A bona fide Witch of Waverly Place. Yes, I’ve been here all along, and I’ve been waiting for a pseudo-dramatic moment like this to reveal myself and save the day.”

No one cared except for Corbin Bleu, who for some reason was also in the library.

“Thank you, Corbin. Dan, listen to me – You don’t need to do this. Although I’ve never met you before, and I know literally nothing about you, I just know you’re better than this. All this scary, Halloween-movie-esque stuff? This is not the Dan I’ve grown to love over the past 16 seconds! Deep down, isn’t all this evil planetarium business really just about a daddy problem?”

“Well,” responded DAN*, “I guess I have had a pretty hard time coping with my dad’s drinking problem. I’ve tried to help him so many times, but it’s no use! He just keeps missing his mouth**. I guess that’s why I’ve been resorting to evil WITCHCRAFT***. That’s clear to me now. And it’s all thanks to you, Selena Gomez!”

Dan then used the Google-spell to get rid of the zombies, goblins, and werewolves. He kept Todd Akin because of the Congressman’s stellar moral track record.

“Now, who’s up for a fun Halloween night??!!!?!?” Dan reached into his backpack (which he had all along even if it was not mentioned before because the author is omniscient and you need to trust him and/or her) and pulled out an organic chemistry book the size of a small home. Predictably, the crowd cheered.

Boy, was that a neat (but scary!) Halloween!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

~The End~

*DAN: Dude’s Actually Nice

**This joke was not taken from Airplane!

***WITCHCRAFT: Why Is This Cool Human Cursing Regular And Fun Teens/Twenty-somethings?

Why My Birthday Is the Worst

I turned twenty this year. For many reasons, the weeks leading up to my birthday were filled with dread. “But Krystal,” you may say, “How could you have dreaded your birthday? After all, your birthday is theoretically the raddest of rad days! Weren’t you even a little excited?” Well you see, back when I was a naïve and ignorant youth much like yourself, I eagerly anticipated the annual celebration of my first breath of life. But now, being the wise and mature twenty-year-old that I am, I know better. Some scoff at my anti-birthday stance, calling me an attention whore and a negative bitch (actually verbatim). But I have my reasons. This one goes out to all the h8rz.

…Seriously? Again?

1. The drama. Oh, the drama!
Planning on spending time with friends? You’d better include literally everyone you’ve ever met, that is, unless you want to spend your entire day saying “Oh that? That was really last-minute and suuuper unorganized, otherwise of course you would have been there!!!!! As if my birthday would be even remotely enjoyable without you!!!” It doesn’t matter what you say. People will be offended.

Why We Should Stop Hating on Nickelback

Trashing Nickelback hasn’t always been a thing. In fact, about ten years ago, a lot of you loved Nickelback. During the 2000s, Nickelback was one of the top-selling musical act in the United States, coming in second to the Beatles. That’s right. The American people willingly chose Chad Kroeger — goatee and all — over U2, Radiohead, Pink Floyd, and the Rolling Stones.

“Stop pretending you don’t want me.”

So why have you suddenly turned your back on the band you used love? I have a few ideas, all of which boil down to your failure as a human being. So for all of you who love to trash Nickelback, there are several reasons that I would very much like you to shut up.

1. You are filthy hypocrites.

Flash back to your life ten years ago. Did you have the words to “How You Remind Me” memorized, like I did (and still do)? Damn right, you did. So did every other kid in America, and you know what? You were proud of it. I even remember my five-year-old sister singing that she’d never made it as a wise man, that she couldn’t cut it as a poor man stealing, and that she’d been to the bottom of every bottle. It was literally — yes, literally — impossible to escape this song.

I have since reached the conclusion that, music-wise, Chad Kroeger and his pals are not what I would call “talented.” In fact, they suck. But you know who else sucks? Avril Lavigne, the Black Eyed Peas, and the Spice Girls. And if you hear “Sk8r Boi,” “My Humps,” or “Stop!,” you’re gonna sing. You know why? You love it. Sorry.

2. We get it: you’re just like everyone else!!! U R so awesum!!!

“Nickelback sucks.”

THE SKY IS BLUE!  CANCER IS BAD!  RICKY MARTIN IS GAY!

It’s funny how by criticizing a band for bringing nothing new to the table, you are, well, bringing nothing new to the table.

If you are going to talk, please present me with new information or a unique perspective. Saying how much you hate Nickelback is a cheap and unoriginal way to gain approval, and it does not demonstrate your value as an individual. So stop it, or so help me, I will delete your number from my contacts and remove you from my Facebook friends.

3. Nickelback’s horribleness + you not liking them ≠ you having good taste in music.

Laughing at the atrocious dialogue in From Justin to Kelly does not make you a movie critic. Gagging at the thought of chocolate-covered bacon does not mean you have a refined palate. And being sort of creeped out by serial rapists does not make you a good judge of character.

See what I’m getting at?

Nickelback has earned the support of highly respected individuals.

4. This level of sadism kind of disturbs me.

I will admit that I take joy in the suffering of a good number of people. Yeah, it sort of makes me happy to see the reaction to a B- from the girl who speaks Spanish before the professor gets to class, because she needs to know that her fake accent does not make her a better person than me. And yes, very few things thrill me more than an ugly photo of Jessica Biel, as I am obligated to hate anyone in a relationship with Justin Timberlake.

But Nickelback? What, besides filling your ears with sounds on par with nails on a chalkboard, did Nickelback ever do to offend you? Don’t you think the band everyone loves to hate has suffered enough? Apparently, not.

5. And lastly, in the words of Nickelback’s devoted fans on YouTube…

“[W]e need this, its almost as good as sex and mary jane its definately needed so jesus i love you see you eventually AMEN.”

“[T]his song exposed the illuminati!!.. lol.”

“Thumb up my comment please, my caterpillar just died, its what she would of wanted.”

I don’t know about you, but the idea of debating fans like these is simply terrifying to me.

6 Reasons We Need to Stop Hugging Each Other

Man-on-Animal hugging is the only form of hugging that should be encouraged.

For the first 11 years of my life, I believed that hugs were rare expressions of affection to be bestowed with frugality on certain occasions. Birthdays? No probs. Visiting Grandma? I got this. Christmas? No sweat. But come 6th grade, when my previously unaffected and guileless BFFs had completed their transformation into cloying and gossipy tweens, I was frustrated by the sudden expectation that I hug people literally all the time. People who I basically knew nothing about suddenly began to greet me as a long-lost sister and expected me to do the same. Meanwhile, my actual friends — who, I imagine, eagerly awaited my annually-bestowed hugs — gradually upped the hugging until it become nothing more than a conditioned response to a familiar face, a mechanical gesture almost entirely devoid of emotion and affection.

Synopsis of my acquisition of the conditioned hug response:

“Thanks for the awesome hair crimper! You always make me feel so special on my birthday. Since it’s the one day out of the whole the year that is officially dedicated to celebrating me, I would very much appreciate one of your rare and much-coveted hugs. Please and thank you.” HUG.

…

“Hey, you! Sure haven’t seen you in these necka the woods for a while. How ya doin’, pal?” HUG.

…

“Why haven’t I seen you since our spelling test this morning??!!! OMIGODSOOOOOMUCHTOTELLYOU.” HUG.

…

“Wait, look at this pic on Myspace.” HUG.

…

“So, how did th— ” HUG.

…

HUG.

…

HUG. HUG. HUG. HUG. HUG.

The madness has got to stop. And here’s why.

1. Hugging. Like… what?
“I am happy to see you. NOW QUICKLY, PRESS YOUR BODY AGAINST MINE.”

This is essentially what a hug translates to. Most people do not seem to think this is weird, even though hugging another person is basically turning yourself into a vertical human mattress. Then you can’t help but wonder how your springiness, firmness, and overall comfort level compare to those of other people. If you ask yourself this question, then you acknowledge that a hug is a fundamentally sensual act. Now a hug seems grossly inappropriate in the context of greeting your uncle, your high school teacher, or that girl you met during March Through the Arch whose name you recall but who is otherwise a foreign entity.

2. We are fueling a world of lies.
Is Glenn Beck really a fun, laid-back type of guy? Is the government hiding aliens from us? Did my friends ever find out that I didn’t actually catch a leprechaun? Is life, in reality, quite different than a box of chocolates? Do my friends secretly despise me, and the only reason I don’t know it is because I am constantly inundated with their duplicitous hugs?

Who knows. Anything could be true in The World of Lies.

3. The expectations are too damn high.
Before I was 12, my hugs were much-sought-after stamps of approval. Receiving one of my hugs was a reward in itself. Nowadays, I’m expected to present people with offerings for merely falling within my field of vision. Next, they’ll want my dog. Or my hummus. We gotta lower these bitches’ standards.

Which reminds me…

Damn socialists.

4. We could be saving dolla dolla bills, y’all.
Trust me on this one — I’m an econ major. If we were to stop hugging each other, the supply of hugs would decrease and the equilibrium value of hugs would rise. It’s that simple! If hugs were worth more, why would we waste our money to show people we care? Take a look at a world where hugs are appreciated, dammit:

“Oh yeah, I did see your bridal registry! Yeah… well you see, the lady who works the register at my Bed Bath and Beyond is suuuuuuuper awkward. Slash I’m pretty sure she is one of those people with weird addictions who eats, like, the foam padding out of bras. So I might not make the trip to get you that set of dinner plates you asked for. But I’d be happy to give you a hug! You’re cool with that, right? Great!!!”

It’s all about the Benjamins, amirite???

5. No more awkward “are we gonna hug” moments.
Whenever I’m not sure if the other person expects a hug, I usually do that thing where I raise my arm in a half-wave, half-potential-one-armed hug, and then leave it to the other person’s interpretation. If they decide to go in for the hug when I’m not ready for it, the hug may produce disastrous results. More often than not, one of my arms is unable to escape. This leaves my bent arm sandwiched between our two bodies, with my fingers unwittingly and creepily stroking the other person’s neck as we pull apart. In general, going in for the hug on such a short notice almost always results in a public display of my lack of doing-normal-people-things skills. On the other hand, if the person opts out of the hug, I’m left with my arm hanging there like a total n00b. It’s lose-lose.

6. No more cooties.

Yep.