If you think your NYE outfit, alcohol supply and approximate cab fare combine to cost a pretty penny, just be glad you aren’t greeting 2012 from a nightclub in Vegas. It might sound fun at first: there’s a ton of options, the venues are gorgeous, and you can simply walk back to your hotel room whenever you’re ready to change outfits in time for breakfast, right?

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[Everyone’s got a morning after story (though I can say with absolute certainty that not everyone's includes a private plane and handcuffs) and we wanna hear yours! Send it over to us and we’ll post it – anonymously, of course – right here!]

Last weekend I went to my friend’s birthday at one of those exclusive NYC clubs where you can’t get in if you’re not on a list. My friends and I got decked out for a big night on the town, which meant I put on a really short dress, slipped on my big practically-unwalkable heels, and shaved my legs. At first everything at the club was really fun and really trendy and really vodka-y. I was dancing on the tables and shamelessly hitting on guys. But that’s what happens when you’re drinking for free.

You know what also happens when you’re drinking for free? People lose their inhibitions as well as their dignity. One couple went from grinding on the dancing floor to humping on a booth. And while they were humping another couple edged into our corner and started getting busy. It didn’t take long before both girls were straddling the guys with their dresses pulled up and their underwear pushed down. While I can’t say that I saw actual intercourse (hard to see things when you’re shielding your eyes), I did see fingers going places fingers do not belong when those fingers are in public. One of the tables began shaking so hard that a waiter came over.  However I wrongly assumed that the waiter would stop the couple. Instead he just removed the glasses off the table so that there would be not broken glass when they started going at it on the floor. It’s at this point I started asking myself what was going on and what was I doing there. Read More »

There's more to us than what's popping out of our dresses, you know.

I just got back from the happiest place on earth. And no, I’m not talking about Disneyland. Although Vegas is a lot LIKE Disneyland, but instead of candy you have booze and instead of rides you have prostitutes. Which I guess can be considered rides…. If I had spent more than three days there, my entire body and life would have started decaying as quickly as my morals did (just kidding guys, no secret marriages here!).

But beyond all the slot machines, free booze and horny people everywhere, Las Vegas is like single life grown in a petri dish; it’s bigger and more rampant, and it lets you observe some things. A lot of the weekend involved putting on our hottest outfits, going to the hottest places, and (hopefully) flirting with the hottest guys.  But somewhere in between flirting with the bouncer to get to the head of the line (which probably only works for Lindsay Lohan) and making eyes at the cute guy across the dance floor, it hit me: the giant singles meat market that is Las Vegas is not too far off from the giant singles meat market that is my life in Chicago. Read More »

I love clothes.  I have a closet full (or three).  My love borders on an unhealthy addiction (so says my parents and the credit card company, but bah!), however…I also love being naked.  No, that does not mean I love being naked with other naked people.  I like being naked by myself.  Just watching TV or reading a book or, even better, taking a nap.  During my first couple years of college, I would memorize my roommate’s schedule so I could have a couple hours of “naked time” every week.

Why, you ask?  Oh, so many reasons.  One of the most important is that the dorms on my campus are chronically overheated and I come from a climate very similar to that of a tundra.  I run hot, as the saying goes.  Therefore, naked time is necessary.  However, after a couple years of stripping down to do my homework or whatever else I felt like doing, I’ve gotten used to it.  In fact, I highly recommend nudity.  Whether you have your naked time in solitude or with a friend, that’s up to you…

Here are some (non-creepy) reasons to be naked.  Enjoy:

Comfort – Fashion can be restricting.  There are days (especially in this hazy, hot summer) where the idea of waking up and putting on an outfit seems like torture.  More layers in 100 degree heat??  Absurd.  Might as well stay home and be naked.  This allows for temperature control, as well.  Plus, I guarantee you’ll not have a better night’s sleep than when you sleep naked.

Aerodynamics - Every sport (except perhaps curling and a couple of others) has a uniform specifically designed to be more aerodynamic.  The faster you are, the more you win.  Well, you can’t beat nudity for aerodynamics.  There’s no uniform closer to the skin than…skin.  Now if only professional athletes such as swimmers started competing this way (I’m talking to you, Michael Phelps)… Read More »

[One of the greatest aspects of college life is the morning-after recap with friends. You stumble out of bed, grab your liquid of choice, and gather around the living room to replay (and remind yourself of) the events of last night. You laugh, you cringe and you share the highest of highs...and the rock-bottom lowest of lows. We thought we'd bring the fun of the recap to CollegeCandy, so grab that coffee and take part in the deliciously awkward moments your CC friends have to share.]

We’ve all seen how boys act when they want to make out with you at a club. First, they come up behind you and begin to dance. Maybe you introduce yourselves, maybe you don’t. If they are a good dancer, you continue dancing, and if they suck, you text your friend that you have to go to the bathroom and she comes and pretends that she has to use the facilities at that exact second.

However, if you have decided that this guy is worth your dancing time, about five-ten minutes into the encounter (2-4 songs) he will likely turn you around so that it is only natural that your faces are near each other, therefore giving him the opportunity to make out with you. Read More »

Ah, junior year. I remember it like it was yesterday. Actually, the amount of alcohol I’ve consumed over the last four years has impaired my memory quite significantly. But I do remember that things were simpler. My friends were only a neighborhood away, my parents paid for everything (besides the bottles of Jose Cuervo I could literally chug from!), and I didn’t have to worry about landlords, electric bills or term papers.

I was working a job, getting straight A’s and somehow managed to go clubbing every.single.weekend. without my parents finding out.

When it came to music, I pretty much only listened to whatever was on the radio when I was driving around with my friends. And Bright Eyes. I always listened to Bright Eyes. And, because of my addiction to the night life – even though I couldn’t even legally drink yet – I fell in love with the Hot 100 charts on Billboard.com. I would peruse the latest additions and then download them with Napster.

Lucky for me, Billboard keeps all their Hot 100 charts online. So, I was actually able to look back and view the top songs from five years ago (wow, that seems like a really big number) when I was a wee 17 year old.

Junior year – of high school and college – has probably proved to be the most exciting. You’re finally comfortable where you are, and adult-like things like graduation are but a miniature blip on your radar. (You’re mostly worried about what you’re gonna wear to that killer house party you are going to go to this weekend). Perfection.

Anyway, let’s take a trip down memory lane to my original junior year here. Good times.

Confession time: I’m an introvert. It goes deep. I can’t stand parties. Gatherings of more than four people (myself included) terrify me. I don’t like to pick up the phone. I’d be absolutely fine if I didn’t talk to anyone for days at a time.

So on most weekends when all of you are out clubbing or hitting up the bar while hitting on hot guys, I’m curled up on my couch in my pajamas, watching the Olympics or reading a really dorky book and eating a cookie (or three).

It doesn’t bother me. In fact, I LOVE it.

Perhaps you’re intrigued by my reclusive lifestyle. Maybe you even want to take your own Introventure on an upcoming Saturday night, but you’re just not sure how to even begin. Well, you’re in luck! Look no further than this handy-dandy…

Introvert’s Guide to a Saturday Night in: Read More »

My phone is ringing. Again. And again. And again. At 4 a.m. my ex calls, just to shoot the breeze. I have to get up for work in three hours! The six missed calls earlier were not one, not two or three, but four different friends calling to find out what I was doing that evening and if I wanted to go out for drinks.

This is not a weekend.

This is a Wednesday night.

It seems the time has come to prune some extraneous leaves on the branches of my social tree. My phonebook now includes some names to which I cannot even match the slightest hint of a face.

I have now reached the stage where I can answer the question, “So what are you up to tonight?” with, “Oh nothing,” and invariably end up somewhere loud at three in the morning stumbling into a dirty bathroom and incessantly repeating the line that never fails to impress: “I have work in the morning! I can’t believe that I am out doing this!” Read More »

The few days or weeks after finals can be such a relief from those seven or ten days of straight stress that you really don’t want to do anything. Being home feels so much better than being cooped up in your dorm room – at least for a little while, until your family reminds you why you left for school in the first place and the only real comfort you have is your pets.

And sure, you have stuff planned for the summer…but have you been outside recently? On most of the upper east coast, it’s far from summer. Heck, it still feels like March every now and then. So what to do? Here a few things that should spark your imagination, whether you have plans or not.

Unpack your stuff! I know this should seem like a common sense thing…but I haven’t yet, really, and I know people who leave their stuff in boxes for the better portion of the summer. Really, it’s easy and it gives you a little sense of accomplishment.

Hit the town! I know situations vary for everyone, but my school is in the middle of nowhere and I live just a trainride away from the city that never sleeps. Whether you’re window shopping, clubbing with buddies, or just taking a stroll in Central Park, it’s nice to remind yourself that there are places outside your campus. (And please, ladies, if you live near your campus…don’t go walking through it. That’s cheating.) Read More »

The true college experience demands bar hopping or clubbing with a pair of incredibly adorable stilettos on. (Did I just succeed in the most shallow first-liner ever?) They probably cost a ridiculous amount (month’s worth of paychecks to be exact), but for a 5’3” little one like myself, an amazing pair of stilettos can make you feel braver and sexier, stepping over spilt drinks and strutting past bad pick up lines to stroll out of the bar with a fine piece of arm candy named Josh…or maybe it’s John? (Does it really matter?)

Anyway…we know all this is true about the right pair of stilettos, but your poor little piggies will certainly beg to differ, and it’s likely that by your second drink your feet will be screaming get-these-off-NOW. As someone whose big toe has been dubbed ‘the astronaut’, (It’s abnormally large, and my wide toenail has been said to strangely resemble a NASA astronaut’s space mask…once again, shouldn’t admit that.) Needless to say I am strongly against my feet being crammed up into the pointy corner of a leopard print stiletto, especially if my agenda for the night entails urgently important events… like stumbling down frat row.

Ah, but fear no more high-heel loving ladies, the fashion goddesses have answered our prayers. I introduce to you, the convertible stiletto. Read More »