My French Literature professor this semester possesses the kind of beauty generally reserved only for the rich; it’s as if she started applying Crème de la Mer at the age of twelve. I am wholly jealous of her perfect nose, her hot forty-five year old curves, and her completely enviable doctorate degree from Stanford.

Ladies, steer clear of the self-help section of the bookstore…
Hour 0-I met a boy at a bar on Friday. He was charming, completely gorgeous, insanely silly, a runner, an avid reader, etc. Most importantly, he was impressed to find these characteristics in me and asked if we could go to a quieter bar, then Wawa for further chatting and intense bursts of laughter. He asked me for my number at the end of the night, making sure to spell my name correctly as he entered it into his contacts. …