Mind, Body & Soul
If you haven’t had the sheer terror of waking up in a bed that’s not your own, with your first thought being, “I need to get the fuck out of here,” then you haven’t lived. No, I kid, I kid. ...
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Four long years ago, I was a senior in college. I don’t remember much about that year (but that’s the subject of another column entirely—perhaps Memoirs of an Old Town Tavern Addict or Long Isla...
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Your number. No, not your phone number, your number. It’s not something you can touch or see. Materially, it doesn’t exist. But oh is it ever there. Haunting you, reminding you of the good, the ba...
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Remember the good ol’ days? A simpler time of land lines, missed connections and face-to-face breakups. When a drunken booty call came from the sound of pebbles ricocheting off your window and flirt...
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Do you ever undress a hottie with your eyes and imagine what Shorty’d look like if she dropped ’em to the ground like she ain’t got manners? That does seem to be the goal doesn’t it — gettin...
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Just out of curiosity: When was the last time your fuck of the night bit your ear, whispered, “How do you want it?” and you responded, “Baby, give it to me in missionary. I really want to just l...
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My name is SF and I am celibate. It has been a ridiculously long time since my last penetration, and I am here to defend my choice of abstinence. I would first like to clarify that I am in no way clai...
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The life of an exchange student is a constant influx of new experiences, knowledge, food, ideas and people — basically whatever you can put into your mouth, grab by the hand or both.
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Doctor, here are my symptoms: I am confused, I’m questioning my identity and ability to reason and my genitals are swelling up like an ocean wave at the sight of a hot chick.
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In school we are taught that cheating is an extremely severe offense punishable with failure and in some cases expulsion, but how many of you sneaky bastards have gotten away with a little dishonesty ...
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Ever heard the expression, “The harder you have to work for it, the better it is”? Well, this is the message I want to shout from every rooftop to all of womankind.
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What does a feminist look like? Is it a dirty, Birkenstock-wearing, peace, love and happiness hippie with hairy armpits and a hairier bush? Why do we have this image of what feminism might mean?
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What if I told you there was still an undiscovered foreign land just waiting for the next Columbus to conquer it? Well get ready all you Magellans, because it’s time to go all Lewis and Clark on …...
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Warning: The following content may contain offensive material and be inappropriate for, say, my parents. Seriously, just stop now, Mom and Dad — this isn’t helping any of us.
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If you were to order the perfect dick, what would it look like? I honestly don’t think I could say exactly.
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“dusty rusty crusty musty ass california hills”
“frowning in plaid (haunted radios, bird bones + anthropomorphized wind)”
“warming my hands on bridges i’ve burnt”
“songs that make me see god”
“My Playlist #236”
“classy wine moment and intellectual conversation”
“90s heroin chic model off duty”
“tweet tweet bird emoji map emoji”
“not my circus, not my monkeys”
“a grave is probably cheaper than an apartment”
“ATE THESE BITCHES LEFT NO CRUMBS / DID IT IN DESIGNER PUMPS”
