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My Life According To The Hills

Growing up, I was convinced that my life would one day mirror The Hills. While it hasn’t exactly turned out that way, everyone’s favorite faux reality show still taught me valuable lessons about life, love, friendship, and most importantly, avoiding the real world’s version of the infamous Justin Bobby.

L.C. had it all (except for Paris). She “worked” at Teen Vogue, the qualifications for which apparently involve staring blankly a la Kristen Stewart while complaining about your borderline dramatic love life. She went to the most glamorous events in L.A. and always had a boy waiting for her in the wings. While I love to hate Lauren Conrad because she’s perfection at its most basic level — and I do mean basic — I ultimately still wish my day-to-day life looked like her Instagram. Girlfriend is dating my childhood crush, chalks her hair rainbow without looking like a punk rocker gone wrong, and made a career out of being skinny. Now that’s a sorority girl icon.

I’m still searching for a career where someone throws beaucoup dollars my way for being my sassy self. Stripping or Real Housweife stardom are the only options I’ve come up with, but LC mastered it long ago. She’s the ultimate brand. She does a little bit of everything and a whole lot of nothing all at the same time. I can’t help it if a little bit of jealousy is setting in, but I know my day will come if I can just find my very own “Ste-phen” to brawl over. I did hook up with a Kappa Sig who looked exactly like him, though, which I like to think was a step in the right direction.

While sorority life isn’t Hollywood over-the-top, the boy troubles and frenemy drama are the same everywhere. So while she may be dating my dream man, I can’t hold it against her, because at the end of the day, she helped me realize that while boys (and unfortunately friends), come and go, the people that are always there for you are the ones who really matter.

Here are my favorite pieces of advice from the ladies of The Hills:


After a bad boy betrayal and a few too many vodka sodas, I can’t help but echo this sentiment.



Telling people you’re “over it” is the best way to tell people you’re really not over it.



Shows rarely tackle losing a BFF, which can be just as rough as a breakup with a boy. You still see them all the time, and constantly think about your fabulous times together, but you know that you’re better off without their bullshit, whatever that may be.



I always thought Justin Bobby was the worst, until I met my own, personal version, who made the real JB look like a winner. Boys like this are bullshit-spewing professionals, most of whom probably learned their lines from The Hills to begin with.



When I think of Spencer, it makes me nauseous, too. It’s unclear whether she’s talking about love or vodka here, though.


While I wouldn’t call The Hills “reality,” it depicted friendship in a way other shows don’t tackle. One of the worst feelings in the world is knowing that you’re losing someone, but not being able to do anything about it. Knowing you have to let go of a friend is like finally letting go of a destructive boy toy. At a certain point, as awesome as you’d like to believe they are, if they don’t return the sentiment what’s the point?



This is the most emotion I’ve seen from dead-eyed, robo-cop Audrina in ever. It’s got to be eye drops, because by the end of the series I was down to pay for her acting lessons.


Even if everyone tells you he’s bad news bears, you hold out hope for that one douchenozzle to prove you wrong. Spoiler alert: he never does.



They can sense it. Their asshole senses start tingling.



Why can’t boys read our minds? Is that really too much too ask? Telepathy would make things so much easier, though reading their minds might be disgusting. Cross-gender ESP would guarantee that we wouldn’t have to send a text to half our pledge class to have it deconstructed and deciphered.


While you may not have a semi-successful clothing line at a dirt cheap chain store, a tweenybopper book deal someone ghosted your way, and a smoking hot boyfriend who was once a D-list celebrity, at least you’re not dating Spencer Pratt. No matter who your personal life-destroying Justin Bobby is, if he doesn’t worship crystals and expect you to be made from more plastic than a Barbie doll, you’re golden. Even if he’s rocking those crazy eyes (which he more than likely is), there’s no way his crazy rivals the crazy that is Speidi. Plus, the moral of the story of The Hills is that friendships come before boys every single time.

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Fleur de Lilly

Fleur de Lilly (@margaretabrams) is a contributing writer for Total Sorority Move and Post Grad Problems. When she's not corrupting her big's baby, she can be found decoding texts, gravitating towards raised surfaces, and spending time with her gentleman caller, Jack Daniels. She loves Lilly, Louisiana, and her lineage.

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