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I’m not into the idea of purposely getting high for a particular activity, unless it involves staying home and watching South Park, or reruns of The Golden Girls, for that matter. (Bea Arthur’s deadpan stare never ceases to pry a chuckle or two out of me.) It’s too deliberate. As in, “Let’s get high and go to Six Flags! That would be so dope!”

As it goes with fashion, music—more specifically, popular music—lives in cycles. And as with fashion now, what was prevalent in the seventies is again celebrated in music. Is more formulaic dancehall music out and communal band-based roots reggae in? All signs point to yes. If you don’t know why Snoop Dogg changed his name to Snoop Lion in 2014, albeit briefly, it’s because he recorded a reggae album in Jamaica, aptly titled Reincarnated. (He changed it back after a falling out with former Bob Marley bandmate Bunny Wailer.) OMI’s upbeat ditty “Cheerleader” is reggae-pop at its fluffiest, but it still qualifies, and it’s officially one of the biggest songs of last year.

Can we use the power of scent for personal empowerment? 

We’re all familiar with the power of scent: its ability to transport us to another moment in time by bringing back a memory, its potential power over our moods, and yes, its capacity to make us feel a sense of attraction to another person. Speaking for myself, though I’m aware I’m in no minority here, I know I’m really into a guy if I love the way he smells –and yes, I have burrowed my face into a borrowed shirt or two like a creep. Or could it very well be I’m really into the guy because of the way he smells?

In 1997, a sassy, slip dress-wearing, guitar-strumming singer named Meredith Brooks had a big hit. For months, “Bitch” was omnipresent, probably first and foremost for its “racy” title but also because, even though most of us were too embarrassed to admit it, girls identified with the admittedly cheesy song that was unapologetic in announcing some of us – and really, all of us – are messy amalgams of perfectly imperfect, logically irrational contradictions.

How to ensure your arrested development doesn’t get sentenced to life without parole

When I was an early adolescent, I thought once I turned 30, by some sort of evolutionary magic, and with a whole lot of nouveau money, I would wake up with a sleek, stick-straight blowout every day and wear lean pencil skirts with my Tom Ford pumps at virtually all times. Except, of course, when I went to sleep in my silky satin pajamas between crisp, daily-washed white sheets.

Because being the same is overrated.

Odds are you’re not familiar with a ditty entitled “Different Yet the Same” from a 1984 episode of Sesame Street. I’m talking about a singing British cow named Gladys and a glass-half-full friend of hers, Buster the Horse. Buster knows cows and horses are different (he’s not stupid!), but he maintains: “Yes, in some ways we’re different, oh, as different as can be, but in some ways we’re the same…You can look at the difference if that’s all you want to do, but I’d rather find a way I like you.”

Vaginal dryness: It’s a topic no one really wants to talk about at length, aside from those silver-haired seductresses in the Osphena commercials, but as of late, “cotton vagina” has kind of become a thing. There’s been a fair amount of hype over the fact that smoking cannabis might temporarily dry you out. And all this time we were thinking it was making sex better! Or maybe I’m the only one who’s that oblivious. But, really? As if there’s not already enough to worry about, what with remembering to keep tampons around once a month and trying not to get pregnant.

Commitment can be so overrated! What to do when you’re in the mood for fun over fidelity

1. Know what you want.
Namely, not a relationship, at least not at this very moment. If you’re in that mode, your desired conquest will smell it a mile away, and that kind of desire or desperation acts as an automatic sexual repellent to most humans. Sad but true. On the flipside, you’re doing this for you, so once you get into the thick of it, so to speak, decide this: Who cares what they (the male or female you’re having sex with) think? One-night stands are shallow, sloppy, and just a tad taboo – and therein lies the appeal.