The 8 Stages of a Visit to Taco Bell

There are 3 main types of Taco Bell trips:

The "Nobody Will Know"
          You're alone and it's between mealtimes. You probably even have dinner plans. But that won't stop your craving, and if you play your cards right, nobody will ever have to know. So you use the drive-through but park in the Taco Bell parking lot and eat in your car. Then you hide the trash in your backpack so you can discreetly throw it in the dumpster when you return home, where you will immediately brush your teeth and take several antacids.

The "Late Night Party Group"
          It's Presidents' Day, your roommate's birthday, or night-of-sporting-event-you-don't-care-about and you're with a group of 4-7 likeminded friends. It is absolutely no earlier than 10pm. You've just finished a rousing 5th round of Bananagrams, and you've all worked up an appetite. You go to Taco Bell where it takes 4.6 billion years for the group to order. You sit in the restaurant to eat because safety in numbers. Everyone finishes their food in 2-9 minutes. You all linger at the table for a while, but you know the night must come to an end...and soon.

The "Soulmate"
          You're with the one person that makes you feel more comfortable than a Snuggie on a Sunday. It's probably a rainy Saturday afternoon. You're both hungry, and you end up at Taco Bell. You'll have a 30-second debate about whether to go in or use the drive-through. But it won't really matter because you're getting it to go anyway. This person will know what level of sauce you want. You take the food home and sit on the living room floor to eat while watching 30 Rock or maybe, like, Arachnophobia or one of the Jurassic Park sequels. Then you both fall asleep.
          NOTE: THIS IS PROBABLY A BEST FRIEND, BUT IF IT DESCRIBES YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHER, MARRY HIM/HER IMMEDIATELY.

Regardless of what type of trip you find yourself taking, there are 8 stages to the visit, as follows:


1. Craving

It's specific, unmistakable and irreplaceable. End of story.

2. Timid Suggestion

Everyone secretly loves Taco Bell. The problem is that you don't want to be the person who seems excited to suggest it. So you strategically say something like, "We could go to Expensive Italian Place, Overcrowded Sandwich Shop, or, you know what? I'd even be fine with something like Taco Bell hahaha" and hope somebody takes the bait.

I could continue to try and explain, but this clip from Tommy Boy will do a better job:

3. Walking the Line

You're at The Bell waiting in line and sure, you're trying to decide what to order. But we ALL KNOW that you're really trying to decide how much to order. There's a fine, blurred line between too much and too little. And there's no such thing as Taco Bell leftovers.

4. Euphoria

You take that first bite and your surroundings dissolve. Suddenly, nothing matters outside of your relationship with this glob of mass-produced heaven wrapped in a tortilla. You feel the warmth in your belly and let the flavor take over your mouth. And your dreams. 

"I love you, burrito."

5. Foreshadowed Guilt

This usually coincides with beans, cheese and/or meat juice running over your hands and down your arms. For a split second, you wonder if you've possibly made a terrible mistake. The fear quickly fades.

6. Euphoria Part II

Twenty minutes ago you looked at the person next to you and wondered, "Is this a date?" But now there's absolutely no doubt in your mind. Person shmerson, you're courting a taco. This is an actual love affair between you and a collage of dead animal, congealed dairy, and severed plants.

7. The Gurgles

Digestion. On a normal day, this is a bodily function that goes unnoticed. But today was a Taco Bell day, and you're fully aware of everything that's happening in there. Something that was once food bangs and splashes through your system like a bald man with road rage.

Also. Gas.

8. Early Bedtime

You decide (or you don't, but it will happen anyway) to ignore the discomfort by doing the thing you always do to escape from reality: sleep. It's not pretty, and you WILL have fever-like dreams about decorating your new apartment inside of a giant snake. (Do your curtains match the stomach acid? DO THEY?)

AND YET, SOMEHOW, like a woman who's given birth, you forget the pain. The craving will always make another appearance, and there's only one way to stop it.

This post is dedicated to Alex White. Because she requested it. And also because she's my friend from ancient times aka The Sixth Grade. Here's to approximately 12 years of friendship!

Alex White

The Time I Went Viral and Why It Was Horrible

Once upon a time I created a Buzzfeed account and made a hilarious quiz full of poop jokes. Obviously it's not important, but what happened made me very angry...here's the story. (If you are sensible and more concerned about real-world problems, skip to #4 below.)

How Buzzfeed works: Anyone and everyone can create an account and write articles/make quizzes. Those go to the "Buzzfeed Community" page where they will most likely get lost in a sea of anonymous posts. They get stamped with a "This is not endorsed or created by Buzzfeed, but a member of the Buzzfeed Community and does not reflect the views of the Buzzfeed staff blah blah blah blah stuff like that." Each post, however, is then reviewed by a member of the Buzzfeed staff and they may or may not decide to endorse the post. I knew this was the process, but it didn't seem to matter.

I made a quiz called "I Can Tell What Kind of Person You Are Based On When You Poop" and it was hilarious. Call me immature (I have a counterargument for that) but I thought it was great. I spent a long time getting the wording of every question and every answer just right and finding pictures that enhanced my carefully written words.

I posted the quiz on Facebook. My friends loved it. I went to sleep with 30 "likes" and a happy heart.

I woke up in the morning to three emails called "Your Post Got a Quiz Badge!" and "Your Quiz Was Promoted to the Front Page!" and "Your Post is Trending!"

(Note: By noon, my post had almost 30 THOUSAND views.)

I was instantly excited. Buzzfeed liked my quiz! They want to share it with the world! My written word is finally going to be famous! I AM TRENDING ON THE INTERNETS. I happily opened an email.

The email started by saying "Congratulations! Your post 'We Can Tell What Kind of Person You Are Based on When You Poop'..."

...and I was instantly confused. See, I named it "I Can Tell What Kind of Person You Are Based on When You Poop" and suddenly Buzzfeed was telling me it was called "We Can Tell What Kind of Person You Are Based on When You Poop."

I went to the quiz. Everything was different. My name was still on it, but my words were twisted, my pictures were replaced. Buzzfeed had put a Porta Potty in the ruins of my Roman Bath and called it good. I probably gave them permission to do that in some Terms and Conditions that I didn't read, but it makes me very angry for the following reasons:

1. I worked really hard on that! Yeah, it was a stupid waste of time, but getting all those jokes just right took a lot of thought. They TOTALLY stripped my quiz down to the bare bones. I had jokes within jokes that were ripped from my loving hands with no warning. (And the world will never know just how funny I really am...or think that I am.)

2. They didn't take credit, but they put words in my mouth and that's just as bad. Listen, I'm an easy going person. Swearing does not bother me, and goodness knows the word "damn" is the LEAST of my worries. But I, personally, have chosen to keep my language as clean as I can. I don't swear. Buzzfeed changed "All Day Every Day" to "All the Damn Time" which wouldn't even phase me if somebody else said it. But suddenly I was forced to say it because my name was still on that quiz.

3. I'd like to know how much money Buzzfeed made off me because I got nothing.

4. This technically has nothing to with my quiz, but I'm already on a Buzzfeed rant and I cannot let this go unsaid. To be honest, I was already on the fence about Buzzfeed before they ruined my quiz. They frequently post questionable material. You know what? "Questionable" is not good enough. I personally think that Buzzfeed posts pornographic material (which I promptly ignore/block). 

Pornography is one of the worst things this world has to offer. Don't believe me? Go to www.fightthenewdrug.org. There are all kinds of scientific evidences, social proof, and stories about how pornography DESTROYS lives, relationships, and society.

At the VERY LEAST, Buzzfeed is often harmfully objectifying human beings, especially men. (To that, some ignorant fools might say, "But Amy, I thought you were a feminist." To which I would say, "Exactly! Go read a book.")

Buzzfeed can post whatever they want, unfortunately, and I can't change that. But I want to point out a more obvious problem and offer my solution. The problem is that they post these "questionable" things right next to perfectly harmless things like "Which Disney Movie Do You Belong In?" or "12 Things You Learned from Sesame Street." (I made those up but you get the idea.)

I'd LOVE if Buzzfeed cleaned themselves up. But I'd forgive them for killing my quiz if they just separated their content. They should at least have a "Buzzfeed Adult" page or something where all the nasty junk is posted and kept clear of the harmless, hilarious fun they otherwise post.




Anyway! Sometimes I get caught up on things that I can't change or aren't important in the first place. Have a great day! And if it makes you feel any better, my next post will be jokes about Taco Bell.

Halloween 2014 (A True Story)

The Matchmaker from Mulan. A Luchador. And La Roux.

The Matchmaker was white, the luchador was a short girl, and La Roux was a straight man.

But anything goes on Halloween.

Halloween is my FAVORITE.

The night began at a party they had helped plan themselves.

People were there, food was good, music was bumpin'...

But they needed more.

Sometimes a person needs to run around, jump off of things, kick walls, and yell as loud as possible. There were three of these people at the party.

La Roux and Luchador found each other first. Dancing maniacally quenched the rage for a short time, but soon it was not enough.

La Roux mentioned trick-or-treating. Without a second thought, they were sprinting around the neighborhood collecting candy and doing cartwheels. Oh, to be a kid again!

Four houses was enough. Candy, pencils, glow sticks, and the rush of nighttime Autumn air was all they needed.

Amped, they returned to the party and stashed their treasures.

There, they discovered Matchmaker, who was also itching for adventure. There was a whole Halloween world out there, and this unlikely band of costumed crazies needed to discover it!

They decided to run around doing anything and everything they could.

Bolting around Provo, La Roux cat-called and body-rolled for anyone we saw. Luchador leaped and screamed. Matchmaker karate-kicked every passing object.

THIS IS WHERE IT GETS NUTS.

(Also, switching from "they" to "we" because this is getting hard.)

The first promising thing we we came across was a church building. The building thumped and laser lights shot out of the second-story windows. There was obviously a party happening. And it was about to get crashed. We busted down the doors and confidently entered. The first level was full of those partiers that value well-lit areas, conversation, and food over dancing. They mulled about, talking to each other. We immediately passed through them and headed for the madness, but not before we noticed something. 

Every person in the building was Asian.

We shrugged it off and entered the dance anyway. Everyone there was Asian, too, but it didn't matter! It was dark and we were dancing our butts off. Plus what's the point of crashing a party unless you obviously don't belong there?

Suddenly, the music stopped and the lights came on. We briefly panicked. We were impostors! But we played it cool by keeping our heads down. Somebody at the front of the room started talking. He announced a costume contest. We had not been discovered. 

BUT WAIT. A...costume contest, you say? At an Asian party? How terribly, horrifically perfect. Luchador and La Roux turned to look at Matchmaker, sly grins on our faces. Matchmaker wasn't about to enter the contest. So, thinking quickly, Luchador offered to join with her. We headed for the front.

But alas, this story contains betrayal! Luchador turned around at the last second, letting Matchmaker unknowingly join the contest alone!

The announcer went down the line one-by-one, presenting each contestant to the crowd. We quickly learned that he knew each of them by name.

"Here we have so-and-so, as Katniss Everdeen!" *cheers* "Next up is so-and-so, as Queen Elsa!" *cheers*

Then he got to Matchmaker. He said nothing, just unceremoniously pointed at her. La Roux and Luchador went nuts. Everyone else politely clapped.

The winner was announced and they turned the lights back off. We found each other and left the building faster than The Flash can tie his shoes.

Once outside, we busted up. Our white friend had just joined an Asian party costume contest, dressed as an Asian. YOU CAN'T WRITE THIS STUFF.

We had just gotten a taste of party crashing. So we headed to the infamous Village, where annoying, rich people live and throw big parties. But it was a straight-up GHOST TOWN. I'm pretty sure an actual tumbleweed rolled through the empty courtyard. Odd, to be sure, but something even more odd was approaching from the North.

Nearing us was a large group of people dressed normally except for their masks. They were all wearing either Unicorn masks or Panda masks. Without really thinking, we joined their ranks. Were they a terrifying cult? Maybe. But we followed them anyway.

They approached a house party. It became clear that this cult was not invited to the house party any more than we were. We all entered together, parting the guests like the Red Sea. Then we danced our butts off for about 60 seconds, while everyone watched. Unicorn, Panda, Luchador, Matchmaker, La Roux, it didn't matter. Together, we were the Unicorn Crasher Cult.

Without a word, we left the house, leaving the guests confused and probably annoyed. One of the Unicorns took off her mask. A long-lost friend of Matchmaker and Luchador! We hadn't seen her in ages, and we didn't know she'd joined a party-crashing Unicorn/Panda cult. Twas truly a Halloween miracle.

We separated ourselves from the cult. Party crashing was something we could get behind, but we weren't sure what the other cult beliefs were. We made our way back home, parkouring through The Village.

As we cartwheeled passed a large window, we glanced inside and noticed a rich girl and a rich guy sitting on the couch watching a scary movie. Guy had is arm around Girl, and was obviously paying more attention to her than the movie. Girl stared blankly at the screen. Both seemed a little nervous. They didn't see us staring at them through the window.

(Let me...justify this. Yes, we were watching people through their window. And yes, that is creepy. But hang on a second. This was OK for the following four reasons. 1) Anything creepy is legal on Halloween. 2) The blinds were not shut. So if they really wanted privacy they could've had it. 3) The window was by the sidewalk, so we technically we weren't trespassing. 4) Because of the public window placement, we didn't seek this out. The opportunity presented itself.)

Then, AS WE WATCHED, Guy made his move. He leaned in to kiss Girl. Right as they were about to make contact, La Roux banged on the window.

We ran away, just a few yards, until we knew they couldn't see us. We thought we were safe. But Guy was much angrier than we expected. He shouted terrible, horrifying threats and started climbing out the window!!

We booked it, not stopping to breathe or look behind us until we were safely at home.

I woke up the next morning, still in costume, with candy wrappers on my bed and glow sticks in my hair.

The only photo evidence of the night.

I know you don't care about any of this. But it's important to me, Riley, and Kevin so whatever. WOOPS I mean Luchador, Matchmaker, and La Roux.

Luchador and La Roux dated shortly after this, so the Matchmaker did her job I guess.

Fight, Flight, or Freeze?

Science says there are three reactions a person has when put under a sudden, immediate amount of stress, such as a surprise attack or jump scare. They are FIGHT, FLIGHT, and FREEZE. It's more of a reflex than a decision. Certain people react differently in different situations.

This guy, for example, is a FIGHT:

The badger is a FLIGHT:

I have tried for 56 minutes to find a video example of FREEZE, but such a video does not exist (unless it's goats which doesn't count). I promise FREEZE is a normal reaction. I have seen it.

There is also another reaction I like to call the "Riley" because my friend Riley is the only person I've seen do this. This is when you react by putting your hands over your ears.

This is not Riley but you get the idea.

For a long time I wondered how I would react in a seriously dangerous, startling situation. Then I had a couple of experiences where I learned exactly what I am. 

I am a FLIGHT. There are pros and cons to this, as illustrated in the examples below.

EXAMPLE 1 (CON)

October 2011. I was in my Sophomore year of college. Our apartment was festively decorated for the upcoming Halloween celebrations. We had some bats hanging from the ceiling, some webs on the door, and one terrifying decoration that I specifically remember. It was a scary mask-face that would shout randomized things when you pushed on it's tongue. Things like "Boo!" and "HEY! What're you doing?!" and "Gotcha!"

Halloween was getting close and we were feeling unprepared. We felt like we needed a good scare. And where's the best place to get scared? The cemetery, of course! So one night Camille, Molly and I decided to visit the cemetery and have a spooky good time.

When we got there, however, the cemetery was closed. The sign, at least, said "Closed" but on this particular night, the gate was still open. So maybe it was technically trespassing, but we went inside anyway.

We stood near the entrance, feeling a little spooked and wondering what exactly we were planning on doing.

SUDDENLY, out of NOWHERE, a man shouts, "HEY! What're you doing?!"

I took off. Fast. I didn't decide to, but next thing I know I'm half way across the cemetery looking back at Camille and Molly laughing their heads off. Molly had hidden Scary Face in her jacket and set it off at exactly the right moment. And it just happened to say "HEY! What're you doing?!" like a cop catching trespassers in a closed cemetery.

FLIGHT may seem like the best option at times, but not if it might involve the police - who will tase you.

This is Camille pushing me (holding Scary Face) in a lonely shopping cart we found outside the cemetery.

Example B (PRO)

March 2012. Ah, Spring...a time for budding flowers, budding romances, and construction. I was lucky enough to be experiencing 2 of those 3 things. (You have until the end of this post to guess which one I wasn't.)

There was an old house just down the street from our apartment that was being torn down to make room for a fancy new apartment building. It was a slow process, and at one point there were a few days where nothing happened. During this time, we noticed that they had knocked a big hole in the wall, where there was just enough space for a person to squeeze into the basement.

It looked nothing like this.

The house was obviously haunted, and Camille and I decided we wanted to explore it. One quiet and windless night, we convinced Julia and Molly to come with us. When we got to the house, however, we could not convince them to come inside because they were smart and we were dummies. So they waited outside on the sidewalk while Camille and I slid into the basement.

It was cold, dark, and very empty. There were a couple stray leaves on the otherwise bare carpet. Here is my drawing of the layout, which I made in Paint and is very important:

We slowly looked around the first bedroom, arms tucked up under our chins because of fear. We searched the closet. Empty. We entered and explored the second bedroom, searching the closet. Empty. We searched the hallway. Empty.

The place was a bust. We started to leave. I went out and up the stairs, where I was confronted by a decision. One escape route was mostly blocked by piles of rubble. The other was clear except for a line of caution tape, which came up to my ribs, approximately. Naturally, I wondered if I could jump over the caution tape. I sized myself up and lifted my leg, testing the height and distance. I quickly decided it was much too high to jump over.

While I was doing this, Camille stood at the bottom of the stairs, taking one last look at the empty basement.

SUDDENLY, THE DOOR SLAMMED SHUT. Without thinking, I leaped right over that caution tape and ran faster than I ever have. As I rounded the corner of the house, I saw Molly and Julia and realized that they couldn't have slammed the door, which caused a second jolt of adrenaline.

"RUN!" I yelled. By the time they heard me, I was already passed them.

This is about the time I thought to look behind me, where I saw Camille running several yards back. She froze when the door slammed. I know this because Camille has long legs and runs marathons and I am built like a funsize Hershey bar...

...which is also my diet.

I was almost two blocks away before I thought to slow down (Camille had passed me at that point). We were all safe.

We played a joke on our other roommate, Claire, when we returned home. Camille waited outside and we told Claire the whole story, pretending we'd just left Camille behind. She was super concerned and worried that we didn't seem concerned. We had to end the joke when she went in the kitchen looking for weapons.

Anyway, this is when I learned to appreciate being a FLIGHT because it could have been a psycho hobo, runaway murderer, or vengeful ghost. I could have been chewed, stabbed, or ghosted to death. But I wasn't because I ran.

Later, I was walking passed the construction site and noticed a baby daffodil struggling to grow. I knew it would be killed by bulldozers and tractors if I didn't do something. So I went out with a spoon and dug it up and saved it. This is a picture of us.

I hope you all get spooked this October, just for fun. And it could be useful to know how you might react in a dangerous situation!

Facebook Buttons

I stole this idea from Jimmy Fallon and here is proof:

But I have some ideas too! YOLO.

FACEBOOK BUTTONS

• "I Like this Post But I Don't Like You" Button
• "I Feel Obligated to Acknowledge This Because You Told Me About It in Person" Button
• "I Don't Just Like This, I Like Like This" aka "Please Go on a Date With Me" Button
• "This is So Offensive I'm assuming It's a Joke" Button
• "Fake Smile" Button
• "I FOUND THIS FIRST" Button
• "Nobody Cares, Please Stop Posting So Much" Button
• "I Didn't Actually Read This" Button

SO ANYWAY. Life has never been more boring. Never thought I'd miss school so much. Here's an Olan Rogers (I love him) video that I thought was smart and funny.

And here's a music video from 2009 that I can't stop watching. I love it and I seriously can't explain why.

The NeverEnding Theory: Time Travel

*If I went to the future I don't think I'd meet myself because my present self didn't stick around to turn into my future self...I left...for the future. Unless I went back to the present, which means I might be able to meet my future self if I traveled ahead a second time. Would I, though? Because I'd just have left the present again. And how would it ever be certain that I'd always return to the present? I might, during one of my future visits, decide to stay there, effectively erasing all that might have happened between the time I left for the future and the time I might have returned to the present. So no matter how many times I traveled from the present to the future and back, my future self still may or may not be the person who just barely traveled to the future from the present.

On the other hand, going back in time to meet my past self makes much more sense. Or does it? If, in my past, I had already met myself, it seems it would be unnecessary to, in the present, go back and meet myself again. Because it wouldn't be happening "again" it would be the exact same event happening exactly the same way. And I can't change something that happened in the past. Unless the past is also my present, in which case I might decide not to go back and meet myself. But if I decide that, what happens to my present self? The moment I decide to stay in the present, I've somehow changed the past. Even if I decide to stay then immediately changed my mind, I've already become a future version of the person who originally traveled to the past.

Everything I do, starting in the present, becomes my future. If I travel back in time, that would make my present self and my future self the same person, even though I'm now in the past. So if my present self decided to travel to the future AND the past at exactly the same time, it wouldn't matter. I'd end up in the past, which became my future the moment I decided to go there. [continued at *]

I could have written a lot more, but I'll spare you.

If you wanted proof that I'm losing my mind, there it is. Please help.

College Survival Guide

This is me, degree in hand and obvious college expert:

Here are things I learned about college that may or may not help you.

1. It's allllll about sleep.

It's a constant battle with yourself. Like this:

I already did college (hold your applause), so I know exactly how it is. 60% of your conversations with other students will be about sleep. And we get competitive with it.

"I was up until 2 writing a paper."
"I was up until 3 writing that same paper, because I'm more dedicated to procrastination than you'll ever be!"
"I was up until 5 watching Netflix and forgetting about that paper....wait? Is that due today??"

And there's always that guy who's like, "I was up all night writing the paper!"

ALL NIGHT?? For the love of lemon drops, get this man a medal! Give him french toast! Bring in the cameras! Call the president! Live tweet his every move! (Follow me @amylouhilton)

Is french toast not the best?

To be honest, I've pulled my fair share of all-nighters (thank you, thank you), and I've learned that there are 7 stages. Hopefully being aware of them can prepare you for the future. (These are very universal and every person experiences this in exactly the same way. This is definitely not just me.)

Stage 1: Watch 21,358 episodes of a mediocre TV show, because hey! You've got allll night!
Stage 2: Stuff handfuls of dry cereal in your face and listen to sad music.
Stage 3: Be feverishly productive for 7.38 seconds.
Stage 4: Clean and disinfect the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom, the front door, the dog, and everyone's windshields (that'll be 5 dollars).
Stage 5: I don't actually know what stage 5 is because I've never been able to remember it the next day...
Stage 6: Shed a single tear while watching the sunrise and wonder if you will ever truly understand the concept of infinity.
Stage 7: Puke every word you know onto the page and, without a second glance (because you've obviously just written pure academic gold), hit print.

Then you run to campus and bust open the doors of your class like "Behold, unworthy classmates, you are filth, for I have done it! I have been awake all night long!

"Get me a medal! Give me french toast! Bring in the cameras! Call the president! Live tweet my every move! I have learned everything I will ever need to know! I have beat the college, and everything from now until graduation is beneath me!"

And you turn in your paper and you get a B! Hallelujah! You should celebrate! Celebrate with one of those naps that feels like 7 years.


2. You can fail a class.

College is hard.

You'll be ok. Your degree will still be valid.

Just don't fail every class.


3. Working too hard is just as bad as not working hard enough.

Balance is everything. School is important but it's not the most important all the time.


4. You should know how to walk and eat at the same time.

I'd love to say that I learned this by being busy and hardworking blah blah blah, but truth be told, I learned the skill by being a bum who sometimes forgets about food.

Don't get me wrong, I love food as much as the next Liz Lemon wannabe, but sometimes I just forget, ok? Like once I was taking a shower (once again, hold applause). I normally have deep philosophical thoughts in the shower, but this time I was whistling the Great Escape song and thinking literally nothing. Which is supposedly impossible for women, so hand over that trophy!

I slipped and fell and hurt my knee and my life flashed before my eyes (it was mostly naps), but I pulled myself up and continued cleaning myself. Then I started giggling. And let me tell you, I do not normally giggle. I'm a snorting belly laugh kind of person. But I was giggling and whistling and shampooing when I realized I was lightheaded and hadn't eaten in a very long time.

I was already going to be late for class. I didn't have time to sit down and eat my leftover Mac and Cheese at the table.

So I grabbed the tupperware, a fork, and an orange and headed for campus. Before I got to class I had successfully eaten the Mac and Cheese, peeled and eaten the orange, and texted my mother without ever looking at my hands or missing a step.

And I made it to class on time.

Walking and eating is not as easy as it looks.

I've also learned to eat a Frosty while driving. But that's next level stuff.

Liz Lemon is my spirit animal.

5. Pick the major you actually want.

Then work hard enough to make it worth it.


6. Take occasional risks.

I'm not exactly a risk-taker, especially when it comes to my social life. You don't have to change who you are. But the best people I know I only really met because I put myself out there. 30 seconds of insane courage to type a text or introduce yourself to somebody could change your life.


And last, but certainly not least...

7. Eat a lot of tacos.

Trust me on this one.

You definitely won't regret it.

Honestly, everything is different for every person. All I can really say is be yourself and good luck!