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We’ve All Been There: The Power Hour

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[It doesn’t matter what school you go to, what state it is in, how big it is, whether it is public or private, all girls or coed…there are experiences that all college students share.No matter how crazy you think your personal situation is, it is not just you. So, let’s bring it all out in the open. Right here. Because you are not alone – we’ve all been there before.]

It’s your roommate’s birthday. Or the end of a brutal exam week. Or maybe it’s just Thursday. Whatever the reason, you are in line at the neighborhood liquor store, 30 pack of some cheap beer in hand, ready to start the power hour.

While you pick up the goods, your friend is at home building the perfect Power Hour CD: 60 songs, each cut down to the best 60 seconds. It’s the raddest blend of top 40 hits, 80s classics, and your favorite songs (Bootylicious?) to sing along to.

When you get home, you find your Power Hour crew sitting on the couch and floor around the coffee table ready and waiting for you. Each has her own special shot glass in front of her. There is an open seat at the end of the table with a penis shot glass in front of it. Your favorite shot glass. That seat is for you.

You divvy up the beers – 5 to each girl – before you sit down, crack your first brew, and settle in for the hour of fun.

The first ten minutes of the power hour pass by like any other time. Sure, you fill your shot glass each time the song changes, but between shots of beer you catch up with your friends on their day, their drama and that bitch of an exam you all had in Econ.

After a few more minutes (and the move onto beer #2), you begin laughing a bit more and singing along with the music.  You reminisce about the time you hooked up to “The Gambler,” or that hilarious party when your stereo kept playing “4 Minutes” on repeat.

And then the 30 minute mark hits and it is as if someone turned up the drunk on the group.

Suddenly everyone is standing up, dancing, and screaming along to the music. Each new song brings a series of shouts from Power Hour-ers: “DRINK!!!” Then, “OMG I LOVE THIS SONGGGG!” And finally, “OMFG WHY DID THAT SONG END SO QUICKLY?! DRINKKKK.”

As the 45 minute mark comes and goes, girls are dancing on chairs, someone is wearing the cardboard beer case as a hat, and a few girls go missing.

“Where is Amy?!”

“She had to pee!”

“She’s gonna miss the next shot!”

“Don’t worry!” Amy calls from upstairs. “I brought my beer with me!”

When minute 55 rolls around, you notice girls rolling around. On the floor. Laughing. Holding their full and achy stomachs. Telling the other girls how much they love them and how they want to be BFF forever.

One girl is upstairs puking. “I’m not that drunk,” she says. “Too much liquid!”

Finally, once the floor is covered in empty cans and you can’t feel your tongue anymore, minute 59 rolls around. As always, your friend chooses a sappy friendship song (O.A.R. “I Feel Home,” or something like it) to end the party. Everyone grabs their shot glasses, puts their arms around one another and hugs it out for the final minute.

Then you all stumble out of the house in search of the next party/to go to the bar, leaving your mess (and the girl who is still upstairs puking) for later.

Ah. The Power Hour.

We’ve all been there.

[Photo courtesy of http://www.powerhourgame.com]

When my mom moved me into my dorm freshman year she left me $65 to buy a humidifier. I took that money and bought a pair of heels because I can sleep without damp air blowing in my face, but I can't rock a humidifier with a hot black mini.