Ever since my parents found out about the Internet, and, clever elders that they are, realized they could read my contributions to Street online, penning my Spring Break memoirs has risks.
It's probably a good idea not to get tanned before you get tanned (and by tanned we mean tanned and also drunk), as was initially the premise of this pre-Spring Break tanning investigation, because the whole thing is a lot more complicated than you might think.
In 1996, when I was in seventh grade, my mother told me I dressed like a homeless person. Although the '90s saw an economic growth in the US that had never before been seen or even imagined in any country in history (never mind the 80 other countries we smashed to smithereens on our way to the top), the fashion-minded youth chose to adorn themselves with baggy flannels, tent-like Stussy T-shirts, and ragged, snaggle-cuffed JNCOs of Herculean proportions, all teeming with lice and God knows what other breed of infectious bacteria due to a generational phobia of soap and water.
We, like, totally love Angela Chase. At the ripe age of 15, she taught us that life, love and plaid/flannel combinations -- while difficult -- are all A-OK.
It's 1:20 a.m. on a Thursday night, and I've lost my dignity. I become painfully aware of this as the heel of my shoe cleaves itself between two bricks and interrupts the flow of my hopping up and down.
Facing the Music, a collection of short stories by Mississippi native Larry Brown, is a cutting-edge interpretation of modern day relationships .
Brown, who died in late 2004, infuses every character and thought with a melodic time-elapsing droll -- a tradition of Southern authors since the days of Faulkner.
Tina Fey. Seth Cohen. Lisa Loeb, Gwen Eudey. Face it: you've got a hard-on for geeks. From the black-rimmed glasses to their witty Friendster profiles, you go nutty for nerds.
Remember when dense, overgrown Neanderthals with biceps for brains, chest hair before the sixth grade and vocabularies consisting only of homophobic slurs and "you suck" were the Brahmin of the social hierarchy at school?
Don't be fooled by the cover of Groton-alum Curtis Sittenfeld's classy debut novel -- Prep. While the pink and green grosgrain belt around the book's middle may bring to mind your wasted summer on Nantucket or that yachtie you fondled at the Newport-Bermuda after-party, Prep's protagonist is not an elitist snob like you and I.
The students at the University of Pennsylvania attend classes in order to quench their thirst for learning, to develop analytical and investigative mental abilities and to further their quest for divine truth and knowledge.
If you consider Louis Vuitton Murakami handbags, driver's licenses and Elvis, you will find that everything really meaningful in life is necessarily followed by an imitation.
Some of us are just naturally endowed with big ones. It's what distinguishes the men from the boys, the haves from the have-nots and the rock stars from the fan clubs.
January, as a month, is decidedly unhip. It's a time to focus on how to make this year better, while constantly being reminded how you fucked up the last one.
This article appeared in the December 9th joke issue.
Survivor: Prophylactic Island
In the past, CBS' reality hit Survivor has relied on scheming andback-stabbing for ratings, throwing a bunch of type-A tacticians onto a desert island and watching them vote eachother off one by one.
Dan Aykroyd on SNL: "Jane, you ignorant slut. My personality profile is not at issue here, any more than is your inability to achieve orgasm."
-- Grant Ginder
Angela Chase on My So-Called Life: "School is a battlefield for your heart.