The Inner Monologue of a Girl Watching the The Fault In Our Stars Trailer

I don’t even know why I come to class at this point. I’m not going to pay attention. I’m pretty sure I learned this in high school. This is just stupid.

UGH Facebook is so BORING right now. C’mon people, give me something to look at.

Jeez, if this kid posts ONE MORE status about how cool his internship is, I’m going to find a way to make sure that shit doesn’t lead to a job after college. Because clearly, I have that kind of power.

Oh look, that bitch from high school gained weight. Poor girl. NOT. Haha, karma’s a bitch.

Okay maybe I’ll go look at twi—

The Fault In Our Stars Official Trailer? What?! WHAAAAAT?! I need to watch this.

11 Things I’d Do For a Klondike Bar

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I don’t know about you, but I freaking love Klondike Bars®. They are my morning, noon, and night. A frosty cold Klondike Bar® is the wind beneath my wings, taking me higher and higher on a path to glorious ecstasy.

An Open Letter to the Period

Dear Period,

In case this letter got sent to the wrong Period, I would just like to make it clear that this letter is addressed to the womanly type of period, not the punctuation type.

Now that that’s over with, I’ll begin. Period, I understand that nothing I can say or do can really change the fact that I have to deal with you…deal with you, or a fetus growing inside me.

Love a Random State: Ohio

I may be a tad bit biased, but Ohio is a pretty badass state. We fuck up pretty much every Presidential Election. We can’t make decisions on anything from street cars to abortion. We are some waffling motherfuckers, and I’m not talking about McGriddles. Besides being a political asshole, here are some other reasons you should bow down and worship my state of conception/birth/childhood.

The beautiful metropolis of Cleveland

1. Ohio is the 7th largest state by population.
Cincinnati is the 61st largest city in the nation by population.* Being mediocrely medium-sized takes all the pressure off being big. We may not have the hustle and bustle of New York or the flotsam and jetsam of Chicago, but we sure do have a lot of wide open spaces and corn. This makes for some great middle school field trips, like visiting an Amish farm and learning how to properly milk a cow or taking a spin on a tea-cup-death-trap-vomit-inducing ride while eating a stick of deep-fried butter at the local carnival.

2. Subpar athletics.
I may not be an expert when it comes to sports. I didn’t vehemently protest the NBA lockout, I do not worship Tebow born from the Virgin Mother, nor do I have any vague inkling as to what Royal Shrovetide Football is really all about. However, I do know one thing: If the Cincinnati Bengals were running in the Republican primaries, they would rank somewhere above Michelle Bachmann and somewhat below Stephen Colbert. They may suck at football and politics, but the Bengals have quite a record off the field. Since 2000, the team has a combined criminal record of 30 arrests, 8 DUIs, and 1 charge of “boating under the influence.”** I’m not really sure how this makes Ohio awesomely badass, but it does.

3. Larger than life Presidents.
We produced President William Howard Taft, the man who couldn’t fit in a normal bathtub. In fact, a bathtub fit for four men was installed in the White House just for him. I bet VP James Sherman had a pretty good time in there, seeing as he was a normal sized man. (That leaves room for three more people, for those of you who are still in Math 110).

O-hi-OH!!!!

4. Ohio is beautiful.
OK, maybe just Halle Berry is. Halle Berry was Miss Ohio 1986. At 19, Halle managed to lock down a state title and first runner-up for the Miss USA pageant. Pretty badass, Ms. Berry.

5. Badass motherfuckers in office.
Jerry Springer, host of The Jerry Springer Show, served on Cincinnati’s city council for three years, before resigning when Jerry’s favorite hang-out was revealed: a Kentucky “massage parlor.”*** But it only gets better: he paid his “masseuse” with a city check. It doesn’t get much classier than that. He was then elected the mayor of Cincinnati from 1977-1978. We obviously know how to choose effective leaders.

6. In Ohio, it is illegal to get a fish drunk.****
Need I say more?

7. Where art thou, Ohio?
There actually aren’t many NU students from Ohio. There should certainly be more Amish, chili-loving, politically frustrated, Midwesterners up in Northwestern’s business. However, this makes for some great feedback. Apparently, Californians have no fucking clue where Ohio is. My roommate thought it was near Iowa and her friend could swear she thought it was south of Illinois. I guess they don’t teach Geography in the Bay Area. As a loyal Ohioan and a college student with half my brain still intact despite raging alcoholism and mind numbing, drug-induced Sporcle competitions, I know exactly where Ohio is: right between New Mexico and Arizona. Right?

8. Home of Skyline Chili.
Although none of you Northside Prep trust-fund babies or LTHS fanboys have heard of Skyline, enlighten yourselves. Cincinnati’s definition of chili: chocolate (yes, chocolate) ground beef soup poured over spaghetti noodles and topped with neon yellow, synthesized, shredded cheddar cheese. Mouth-o-meter: fucking delicious.

9. Hipsterz.
Searching for the inner-sanctum of hipsterism? Look no further. Clifton, a small neighborhood on the outskirts of downtown Cincinnati, is a hub of culture and excitement. 98% of Clifton residents are Democrat, making us some badass, Obama loving hippies. 98% of us also love Indian food. Why? There are 7 locally owned Indian restaurants in Clifton. Step outside my house and take a good whiff of Saag Paneer and Chicken Curry. Yum. You can always find a homeless town troubadour belting out his love life with the aid of his trusty accordion. Besides musicians, we are also home to many other badass personalities, such as the mysterious bag man who, although he appears to be homeless, goes to the grocery store every day and picks up 3 lemons, a loaf of bread, and a bag of kitty litter. Meth lab, anyone? There is also the penguin man who yells at cars going over 25, the local business owners who all seem to be tangled in a Romeo and Juliet-esque love affair, and my personal favorite, the middle school drug dealers who hang out at the shelter in Burnet Woods after school. (Whoops, did I just blow your cover?)

Take a trip back in time

10. We have one of the largest Amish populations in the country.
Amish people are badass. Love the Amish, and eat their chicken; it’s free-range!

Needless to say, Ohio is a badass state. If this article has convinced you to pack up your Illinois life (or wherever the fuck you’re from) and move to Ohio, call my step dad. He’s a realtor.

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*Sporcle. Yeah, I did it. I used Sporcle as a source. Try to censor that, PIPA.
**NKY Sports World
***Massage parlor = brothel
****Twitter

Eight Statements You Should Never Make

Want to know how to make yourself look slightly ignorant? Here are several ideas you may insert into one of many orifices you find difficult to clean in the shower.

“I really hate the taste of aspartame.”
No, you hate the thought of aspartame. Your body is wired to like sweet things, but your mind knows that you are consuming Franken-sugar. In the immortal words of Very Mary-Kate: “You know how you can’t eat meat anymore once you know where meat comes from?” That’s you, Ms. “I Won’t Eat It If It’s Not Organic, Leafy, And Hasn’t Touched An Animal With A 39½ Foot Pole.” Congrats on your mental victory; I’m slightly jealous and mostly derisive.

Special mention to anyone who says they hate chocolate without a valid excuse. You’re either lying or there’s something wrong with you.

Dawg, Mozart's "Requiem" is my jam

“If you play Mozart to babies they’ll be smarter.”
If you had done your goddamn research, you’d realize that this is actually an extreme extrapolation by the media off of a 1993 cognition study where researchers measured the effects of sound on spatio-temporal reasoning. They played music (which HAPPENED to be Mozart) to Group 1 for ten minutes, a “relaxation tape” to Group 2 for ten minutes, and complete silence to Group 3 for ten minutes, then immediately gave them some mind puzzles. The ones who’d been listening to music did better.

The finding had nothing to do with Mozart; scientists have reproduced this study with other music. The finding was because Groups 1 and 2 weren’t bored as hell listening to rainforest noises or their own borborygmi for a period of time in which they could’ve Sporcled every 90’s song ever written at least three times. It was a temporary effect on a specific type of reasoning and it wasn’t caused by Mozart. But listening to music before you start your next 2,000,000-piece puzzle may help you for ten minutes afterwards.* Now put down the Baby Mozart tapes, they’re not going to give your kid a Flowers-For-Algernon IQ boost. C’mon, we all know that most of us Bienen kids can’t count past four. But you should still check out Schubert.

“I’m so fat.”
Unlike the rest of this list, this one could be true. But regardless of the statement’s verity, rarely does the speaker believe it. No further explanation, y’all know what I mean. I have a secret fantasy of giving a silent staredown to every kumquat of every size that ever regales me with this phrase. I will watch their faces as they realize I refuse to bite on their compliment-fishing line. Unfortunately, having a guilt complex blows.

“Girls don’t fart.”
Welcome to 2012, where vaginas don’t preclude one from anal salutations. Ellie K can flatulate with the best of you bean-gobbling fools.

“I’m fuckin’ awesome.”
If I didn’t notice, you shouldn’t have to tell me.

She's not wearing anything under that... thing

“Fashion is about sex.”- Vivienne Westwood.
Thank you, Sigmund Freud.

First off, raise your hand if you possess a penis and give a flying fuck about fashion. It’s normal to ask yourself in the morning if you look like you might smell. But fashion extremists feel a level of consternation at the question of whether it’s still “in” to leave open the bottom button of your blazer. Now, if your hand is in the air, you’re either in the minority or in the process of dancing.

And now ladies (and gay men), when have you ever gotten dressed in the morning with the burning desire that an attractive manly man will seize you in a frenzied passion after noticing that you’ve matched your hat to your belt buckle? Yeah, me neither. Most men don’t give a damn if you’re wearing Lilly Pulitzer or pajama bottoms or a pillowcase with sequins if you’re their type and DTF. If fashion and sex are related, they are third cousins twice removed. Case closed.

“The Sodomites in the Bible were punished because they were gay.”
Not exactly. Summary of the story:

According to the Bible, Sodom and Gomorrah were two cities known for being full of motherfuckers. Not the kind you find in New York — we’re talking rape in the name of shits n’ giggles. In Sodom, it was illegal to help strangers, which pretty much goes against everything that real, love-thy-neighbor Christians believe. So God sent some angels to walk around town, and a man named Lot, being the generous guy he was, offered them his home so they didn’t have to sleep outside in the dangerous city. The Sour Motherfuckers in the city got wind that there were strangers in town, surrounded Lot’s house, and told Lot to send them out so they could rape them.** That is agreed upon in two separate passages of the Bible. The Sodomites’ sin, according to Everything About Sodom In The Bible, wasn’t homosexuality, it was a lack of goodwill towards strangers. Does anyone see the irony in the citation of these passages by those hoping to exclude gays from everything under the sun?

“Sherman Avenue isn’t heinous.”
I will see to it that you die painfully, you empty-headed animal food trough wiper. I fart in your general direction.

Because, see, I can do that.

“The heinous behind us and the heinous before us are tiny matters compared to the heinous within us” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

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*Warning: You should not rely on a Mozart-induced spatio-temporal IQ burst to save you from a two million piece puzzle.
**There’s a bit where Lot’s like, “You could rape my virgin daughter or my concubine instead of these dudes I just met, because apparently it’s okay not to respect women, my family, or women in my family.” Conflicting accounts in Judges and Genesis then say that either the Sodomites raped the hell out of his poor concubine, or the angels in the house blinded the offending Sodomites before anyone got raped and warned Lot to skip town.

Welcome to the Culinary Dorm Corner

Welcome to the Culinary Dorm Corner, otherwise known as the place to which people will inevitably flock when they hear you have something free to eat.

Labor went into that. It’s not free.

Don't forget to butter up.

But you say you can’t cook? HAVE NO FEAR! The honorable Professor J. Reginald Vandernips is here to help. Be it a romantic time outside of the low-cost date-worthy-atmosphere of the Willard dining hall, or just a quick munchie between orgo and bio (Bless your heart), I’ve got you covered.

So let’s start with something low-key, easy as fuck, and FREE.

Let’s talk about the parfait. There’s a reason that the word “parfait” is French for “perfect.” We’ve got fruit, yogurt, granola, a possibility of ice cream… The cooking gods would be proud. So now you’ve got two options to work with: Healthy (fuck that, you’re in college) or Tasty.

We know what I’ll choose, so find a dining hall with a salad bar, soft serve machine, and a cereal station. Luckily for you, that’s everywhere! Just snag yourself a cup and head over to the yogurt or the soft serve. If you’re going to the ice cream, you’ll want to get vanilla, unless you’re one of those people that put chocolate on everything you can think of.

Basically you’re going to layer ice cream and/or yogurt with fruit from the salad bar (where the yogurt usually is also) and possibly the strawberry syrup from the ice cream section until you get to just under the top. Then head over to the cereal. You may not have your conventional Grape Nuts or granola (or Meusli, if you’re a pretentious fuck) so you can make do with barely crushed Cheerios (they’re an oat cereal anyway) or Captain Crunch.

What the fuck did you say about my cooking?

Chances are that you won’t be able to taste the cereal anyway. It’s just for the crunch.

Alternatively, when it comes to quick dining hall cup desserts you can go for the classic Coke/ Root Beer float. Load that shit up, grab a spoon, get to your table and make everyone jealous for your ingenuity.

Happy Eating!