Revisiting Our Adolecence With The Girls We Hated In Junior High

The editors at Daily Candy seem to be feeling a bit nostalgic for the time when their superiority over others was represented by the location of their lunch tables: today, the editors of four editions (New York, Washington D.C., Philadelphia, and Seattle) decide to revisit their origami skills, homemade terrariums, rock camps, and fake mustaches of years gone by through the sentimental lens of adolescence. (Don't you think that, if they wanted women to buy into what they're shilling, they'd steer clear of readers' acne-riddled, painfully-awkward pre-teen memories?) After the jump, and with the help of Daily Candy editors, we remember the awkward indoor-kid crafts and butch, tomboy phases of our junior high school traumas.



New York: Scraping the bottom of the idea barrel, the people at DC recommend that we try your hand at "moneygami," or, as it is more commonly called, "like, those dollar rings we used to make in seventh grade." Sure to impress our numberonecrush in Health class!
Daily Candy: New York

Washington D.C.: Raising the bar on indoor crafts just a bit higher than the DC staffers in New York, DC Daily Candy editors propose that we make our own terrariums. Educational and evidence of our loneliness! Afterwards, we can pretend that we live in the terrarium and start our own world where we talk to unicorns and make magic spaghetti out of moss!
Daily Candy: Washington D.C.

Philadelphia: To remind us of our tomboy phase (or perhaps to help us come to terms with our lack of thick facial hair?), the girls in Philly propose a $65.00 wooden mustache for us to "disguise" ourselves with. This will go great with our collection of other useless, overpriced, and ridiculously unnecessary things that end up in the bottom of our underwear drawers with bits of lint and wacky tobbacky.
Daily Candy: Philadelphia

Seattle: For all of the 8- to 18-year-olds catching up on the latest from DC, The Paul Green School of Rock Music is opening and accepting students. The awkward cynicism, acne, and sloppily-grown-out bowl-cuts are sure to be plentiful for all us future pretentious Pitchfork writers.
Daily Candy: Seattle