Author Meg Donlon

Dear Professors, I know you're all avid readers of this little column, so I figured what better way to vent my end of the semester frustrations than to address this matter in the paper. As I'm sure you all remember from my previous columns, I had a wonderful week of spring break spent basking under the hot Jamaican sun, sipping on Red Stripe and shooing away the advances of many young gentlemen callers also on spring break and under the disillusionment that I was there for some "booty.

Ok, if it isn't already obvious, He Said and I are starting to come to the end of our creative rope. Please bare with us, as we are still quite hung over from spring break.

The gym is more crowded than church on Christmas Eve and the line at Hollywood Tans is longer than the Macy's checkout line on Black Friday. Spring break is upon us. If you're not trying to paint yourself orange or drop 20 pounds in 10 days then you must have the luxury of having a lame spring break, like my past few spring breaks.

I don't know what it is about the combination of the brightness of the lights as you stumble out of the Grape, the seven vodka 180s you drank, and the walk that can feel like miles back to your beach house in jeans and a tank top in the 30 degree weather that gives some among us the uncontrollable urge to call our ex-ex-ex boyfriends and confess "it wasn't over for me!" Ninety-eight percent of college students are guilty of drunk dialing, texting, or messaging at some point during their weekend.

When He Said proposed we talk about sex education this week, I wasn't sure if it was his shy way of asking for advice or if he really thought it was a good topic. Nevertheless, he brings up a good point: college is the time when most of us need sex ed the most, but where is it? Sure, you can pick up 100 fliers in the Health Center about it, but all those basically say is that if you have sex, you're probably either going to get knocked up, get a terrible STD or die.

In high school, we watched movies about real college life: endless toga parties, frat lawns decorated with broken furniture and crushed cans, and huge classrooms that you could easily fall asleep in unnoticed. While Fairfield may not meet these college stereotypes, there are other "stereotypical college types" that you will encounter during your four years here.

Valentine's Day is upon us. It's time once again for the young gentlemen of Fairfield to start preparing their Valentine applications if they so choose to pursue everyone's favorite Mirror journalist: me. Essays may be submitted in word or video format, and should be in before Feb.

First, I'd like to start with this disclaimer: I do realize that this school does not have a football team and many students reading this column may not know what football is…that's ok. Just continue along reading this article in class as you normally do on Thursday, chuckling to yourself and shaking your head at your neighbor while mumbling, "Oh, that Meaghan Donlon.

Personally, I hate New Year's Eve. I have had a history of seriously unfortunate New Year's Eves, involving everything from getting beat up, making out with someone who (in a less than sober state) I thought was a cute high school classmate only found out a few hours later that it was actually his younger brother, and accidentally hooking up with my best friend's ex-boy friend (yes, all is fair in love and war, but usually you should leave a grace period of more than 3 hours after break up before you do that to someone).

Winter break- that small beam of light at the end of the dark and miserable tunnel known as finals. For me, break usually falls into "The Five Fabulous Phases of Winter Break." The first phase of winter break is not really winter break at all. This is the time in which you would contemplate giving up your first born just to fast forward through finals.