January Nelson

Some people aren’t good at doing sports or have trouble understanding how to do math. Maybe this is my weak spot. Maybe I just legitimately don’t know how to be in a relationship with someone.

You’ve read about depression. You know you probably have it, but you don’t believe in it. Not enough serotonin, they say, you have a deficiency. You’re broken. Maybe meds would fix you but most of the time you’re fine.

Today in things that are both simple and mind-numbingly complex: feminism. Simply put, a feminist is someone who believes in equal rights for women: political, economic, and social. Not so difficult, right? But go beyond the simpleton explanation and things get a little… hairy. (GET IT? BECAUSE FEMINISTS DON’T SHAVE THEIR ARMPITS? LOL.)

Whether Ron and Sam are currently together. $1 off on Easy-mac/ Gushers/ Shark Bites/ Capri Sun. Whether my high school prom queen has a boyfriend.

The singer — known for hits like “Hot Stuff,” “Bad Girl,” “She Works Hard for the Money,” “On the Radio,” I could probably go on forever or at least another 100 characters — was a five-time Grammy winner, mother, and wife.

Be a coward. Fail to break up with me. Instead, push me away so hard that you’ve given me no choice but to do it myself. Rude. If you fall out of love with me, you can at least have the decency to be the one to break it off.

Today in news that is only hilarious if you’re detached and vindictive: a deer crashed through the front door of an Indiana home this morning, then ran to the bathroom where it drew a bath (presumably to relax).

They stared at me as if antennas were growing out of the top of my head… just completely baffled. They had never even heard of white privilege, so they surely had never recognized the role it played in their lives.

The friend you inexplicably need to make out with, tonight. The kid who used to name his bongs and was universally regarded as “too short” by the female population of your high school is now a well-spoken, well-dressed, “not too short” dude with an interesting job and what the hell are we even talking about, just make out with me.

Every relationship is a unique, special snowflake – until it dissolves. Then its contents are reduced to cliché-riddled proclamations and accusations. Breakups bring the crappy screenwriter out in all of us.

Pop Rocks: Pro: Classmates fawn over you when they’re in your mouth. Con: Head explodes if mixed with soda. Victory Candy Cigarettes: Pro: Look like a boss. Con: Head shakes and eye rolls from strangers.

Drinking at college is like an Olympic sport married with 1920s bootleg culture. There are relays, some illicit drugs, smuggling, you name it. Truth be told, I can barely remember what drinking in college was like – which means I was probably really good at it. Here’s what my memory has managed to preserve.