You’re at a house party or a bar… or in line to get into a house party or bar. It doesn’t matter. Wherever you are, you’ve just spotted a very handsome boy and you want to talk to him. You turn to your friends and point him out.

“OMG, girl, he IS hot. Go to him,” they say. Then you spend the next 5 minutes debating the best conversation starter/reapplying lip gloss/yanking your shirt down a wee bit lower to show off the girls. When everything is in order (“Do I have anything in my teeth??” you ask your friends as you flash a big, toothy smile), you move in.

Due to some extreme Power Houring before leaving the house, your friends are feeling rather rambunctious. As you make your way to get a drink, they shove you into the boy. Not part of the carefully laid out plan, but that move has been known to work wonders in the past.

You grab the boy’s arm (which feels nice and muscley through that button-down shirt of his) and apologize for your friends. He smiles at you. [Swoon.] You offer to buy him a drink to replace the one that spilled when you fell into him. He offers to buy you one instead.

It’s already working.

While waiting at the bar for a bartender (any bartender) to look your way, you start chatting with the boy. You get his name (which you may or may not forget .25 seconds later), his major, his hometown….the usual. Then you start chatting about more important things, like why Vodka and Soda is better than Jack and Coke any day.

As time passes, you start getting a bit closer. First, he rests his arm next to yours on the bar as you sip your drink. Then he puts it around you as someone passes by. When you walk away from the bar, he puts his hand on the small of your back and leads you. When you bump into his friends and start talkin’, he puts his arm around your shoulder (and you put your hand on the small of his back). Then he starts rubbing your back….

Then his tongue is down your throat and he’s nibbling on your ear in the back corner by the bathroom. And you are getting goose bumps/weak in the knees.

You silently celebrate your success as you debate what to do with the full drink in your hand. You pull away for a second, put that sucker down and start running your hands through the boy’s hair.

While making out in public is completely socially acceptable in college watering holes, knowing your friends (and the rest of the bar) are watching from the corner skeeves you out. You ask the boy if he wants to go. You both pound your drinks, you not-so-seductively wipe the inevitable drips off your face with the back of your hand, then he grabs your hand and you head back to his place… where you wake up 6 hours later under a dirty sheet listening to him snore.

—

Yeah, we’ve all been there. If we were smart, we stuck around for a morning romp. If we were lucky, we got a ride home. If not, we stuck our bra in our purse, wiped the mascara from our cheek and did the run/walk home as we attempted to avoid snickers from strangers on their way to class.

It wouldn’t be a Friday night if you weren’t incredibly inebriated and on the verge of getting a record-breaking 10th DUI. But how did you get from your desk in the library to this high-speed car chase? We’ve  cracked the code to figuring out how you went from slowly sipping a beer to walking around the bar drinking the bar’s signature tornado-tini out of a cowboy boot.

Sober
All you wanted to do tonight was go home, catch up on your NSFW links, and fall asleep. But your stupid friends dragged you out to happy hour. But seriously, you’re just having one drink and going home. And your friends are crazy if they think you’re going to laugh at their jokes and engage in polite conversation.

Buzzed
You know what? It’s Friday night and it’s kinda stupid to leave the bar now that your beer goggles are just getting into focus. Why not order a few more beers, take a couple shots, and find out just how drunk you have to be to willingly take home your morbidly obese T.A from last semester.

Drunk
Sometime between that last round of shots and dancing on the bar, you’ve become a stand-up comedian and a first-rate politician. When did your jokes start getting so funny and since when did you become so into illegal immigration reform? You’re going to do some great and timely Molly Shannon impressions as soon as you get back from peeing outside the bar.

Blackout
What did you just snort and where are your pants? And most importantly, when did you lose the ability to speak English? Good thing you’ve still got those sick dance moves; nobody does the lawnmower like you do. In other news, love your new bicep tattoo of you and the TA getting married.

Clinically Dead
That’s a cozy spot in the back alley. Why don’t you just lay down, make yourself comfortable, and sleep it off. And remember whatever happens with the homeless man doesn’t count if you can’t remember it.

Hungover
Wow. There’s nothing quite like waking up inside a dumpster on a Saturday morning. A lot of things are pretty blurry right now but you’re pretty sure you got to second base with a raccoon last night. It’s all cool though, just another great thing to say during the next round of Never Have I Ever.

[This story was originally posted by Jenni - Syracuse University]

Likey? Don’t worry, there are plenty more faves where this came from.

[There are over 100 million sites on the Internet. 100 million! You might think you know about all the important ones (CollegeCandy, Gmail, Google, TFLN…), but there are thousands of other sweet sites out there (like Unhear It, ReQall, and Regretsy) and more showing up every day! We get it – it’s not easy or fun sifting through the crap and porn to find those gems, so we’re gonna bring the gems to you. Just sit back, kick up those feet and allow us to introduce you to the diamonds in the internet rough.]

College football season is officially under way, and whether or not you actually know anything about the sport, the fact is watching the games and rooting for your school is part of the college experience and a great way to socialize. Plus, what else is there to do on a Saturday?

But what about you recent grads out there?  Unless you still live in your college town (jealous!), you probably won’t get a chance to go to any games.  You could always head to a sports bar to watch the game, but that could get really awkward and/or dangerous if you’re the only one in the bar rooting for your team. (Editor’s Note: True story – poured a beer on a rival’s head once…then was swiftly escorted out.)

Unless you know which bar to go to.

College Bar Finder will help you find a bar that’s friendly to your team in any city, regardless of how far away it is from your college town.

Simply choose your city from a drop-down menu and type in the name of your school in the search bar located on the top of the page, and voila, College Bar Finder will find any and all bars in the selected city that cater to your college team.

There are currently over 1,000 bars in College Bar Finder‘s database, and you can help add more by suggesting any bars you know about that are affiliated with a specific team.

Seriously, how awesome is this site? Now, fans everywhere can come together to root for their favorite team….over drinks….. no matter where they are!

So it’s Friday. (Or Thursday, Saturday, or Tuesday morning….) You’ve got your favorite skinny jeans on, you stuffed your feet into a pair of  heels that start rubbing on your baby toes before you even leave the house, and you’re sipping on a little vodka/Crystal Light to get the night going. Once you’re feeling buzzed enough to handle the crowds at the campus bar, you throw that purse over your shoulder, loop arms with your besties and do a little run/walk into the night.

Only when you arrive, you realize pretty quickly that perhaps a few more drinks would have been a good idea before running into these annoying bar-goers.

10. Sloppy in Line:
We’ve all had that night. Whether it’s our 21st birthday or our “I just got dumped and need a night to get over it,” we’ve had the wasted-before-I-even-left-the-shower kind of an evening. But when I’m not having that night and someone else is tripping and falling into me, slurring his/her words and spewing chunks very close to my heels before we even get inside (true story), it’s not OK.

9. Martini Drinkers:
Repeat after me: there is no way to get this overpriced and probably watered-down martini from the bar to my table without spilling it everywhere. Even if I walk incredibly slowly and piss off everyone who is trying to get by me and to the bar.

8. Creepers:
I mean, do I really even need to say why?

7. Woo Hoo Girls:
(At least that’s what the How I Met Your Mother crew calls them.) These girls love to scream. When their boot of beer arrives, they scream. When their other Woo Hoo girl arrives, they scream. When Journey/Miley Cyrus comes on, they scream. When one of the Woo Hoo girls comes back from the bathroom with bloodshoot eyes and a little splash of puke on her cheek, they scream. And with each successive drink, the screams get louder and more shrill.

6. Bitter, Angry Bartenders:
All I’m asking you to do is crack open an Amstel Light and pass it over to me. What’s with the ‘tude?

5. Random Couple Trying to be Romantic:
Of all the quiet, coupley places you could go on campus to have a nice night, you chose this sweaty basement bar? Nevermind the fact that you can’t hear one another over the Usher songs blaring from the DJ booth, but there is nothing romantic about a bunch of really drunk, really sweaty kids grinding against the walls.

4. Bathroom Girls:
Hey you by the mirror – adding more powder isn’t going to make you look less shiny. Just thank god for the low lighting and get a move on. And you three in the handicap stall – can you stop crying about the boy that totally blew you off and let someone else use the toilet? And the rest of the girls in the world who just happen to take a long time to do their business, HURRY UP. I broke the seal/need to get back out there before ‘Like a Prayer’ comes on.

3. The Bar Loiterer
I know that at Cheers and The After Dark (behind the Peach Pit) people grab seats and order at the bar. But we’re in college, people, and there are hundreds of wanna-be-drunk patrons behind you trying to get their paws on a shark bowl. Can you be a doll, stop trying to look all sexy leaning up against the bar with that Miller Lite and walk. away? Kthanxbye.

2. The Big Dancer:
If you bump into me one more time, I swear to god…..

1. Ms. Perfect:
Seriously, how? How do you keep your hair straight, your makeup fresh and your pits dry while, by 1am, my sweaty hair is in a ponytail, my eyeliner is on a journey down my cheek and I have very obvious under-boob sweat stains on my cami? HOW?!

Giving up my nights out was not something I was especially prepared to do when I started scouring my college town for a job; who wants to be folding clothes amidst an asthma-inducing Abercrombie cologne cloud late into the evening when your girls are out at $1 pitcher night? Nobody.

That’s why I became a cocktail waitress.

Well, that and I heard Tiger Woods George Clooney was fond of them.

Naturally, I see a lot of…er… interesting, for lack of a better word, things during the late night shifts. Things that I know I’ve been guilty of doing, and that all you CC ladies are probably guilty of as well. Believe me, your signature twist+bend and snap combo dance moves do not look as sexy as you think, even if that drunk frat boy tells you they are. And as good as Journey is, “Don’t Stop Believing” is not “the best song of all effing time!!”

Because our thoughts tend to be a little muddled when we’re a few sheets to the stale bar air wind, I thought I’d help everyone see just what a typical drunken night is from a more honest (read: sober) perspective. So join me as we analyze things (hey, we’re all friends here!) from both sides of the crowded bar.

Your Point of View: It’s 11:00pm and you and your friends raced into the bar in 5 inch heels because it’s winter in the Midwest and coats are a pain in the buttcheeks to carry around. The warm air inside brings out a sigh of the relief.

My Point of View: GIRL you must be KIDDING. IT’S WINTER IN THE MIDWEST! Except I’ll tell you that I never wear coats out either and no, your nose isn’t running that bad! Oh, and that happy sigh you made when feeling came back to your fingers sounded more like a cross between the sound I make when I see spider (EEEE!) and when I see a hot Mexican with a beard (ughhh YES).

Your POV: Shots! Shots! Shots! Shotshotshots! I LOVE shots and I LOVE this song!

My POV: I would literally be a millionaire if I got a dollar every time someone ordered shots from me in that manner. A billionaire if I got an additional dollar every time people sang that just to get my attention and then order something completely different.

Your POV: Cutie alert at  ‘clock! Take a quick selfie to see if you’re still looking as hot as you were when you left.

My POV: Much like how a car loses value when you drive it off the lot, all of the effort you put into looking good starts to depreciate when you walk in the bar. There’s no way around it. It’s going to be hot, you’re going to sweat, your perfect hair poof is going to fall flat (unless you’re Snooki, of course), and drinks are going to fall on you. Let’s just all take a second and give thanks to the very forgiving bar lighting.

Your POV: Yes, 4 0′clock cutie noticed you. He walks over, says he remembers you from class, and buys you a drink. Things are going great, so great that you invite him on the dance floor. And if his moves are good (and he buys you a few more rum and diets), maybe you’ll invite him back to your apartment.

My POV: First off, he does not remember you from class. He just chose a random gen ed, like Elementary Psych, because it has 500+ people in the lecture and there was a good chance you took it too. Second, his moves are def not good, but in the back of your head you knew it didn’t matter anyway. Third, men aren’t always good to you, but burritos always are. If he won’t offer to pay for your drunchies after all those drinks he handed out, don’t take him anywhere near your abode.

Your POV: Bartender yells “Last call!” and you get a huge group hug going to tell your girls how much you love them and how you all need to get together again next weekend. You talk afties and Pokey Stix when suddenly all of the lights go on. And suddenly 4 0′clock cutie isn’t looking too good.

My POV: This is by far the best part of my night. Since drink orders are done, it’s my chance to sit back, relax, take a shot with the bartender, and admire all that is going on around me. The look of horror that come over faces as soon as the lights turn on is priceless; just when you thought you were surrounded by hotties in a hip night club, you realize that theses “hotties” are covered in pit stains and your fake tan is running down your face. And that “hip night club” is just a dirty, windowless basement. With dirty bathroom water on the floor.

What a great way to end the night. Now it’s time for me to head home and enjoy my Jimmy Johns #12 with Say Yes to the Dress on DVR.

[This post was originally written by Kelly - University of Iowa.]

September is coming at us full force and for the first time in 15 years, it means absolutely nothing to me. Yup, as a jobless, broke, living on my parents’ couch college graduate I’m not going back to school this year. It’s weird. It’s confusing. It’s really, really sad. [She says as she sighs deeply and bites her quivering lip, crying into her empty planner.]

Being catapulted into the real world has made me realize just how much I took for granted in college. I didn’t think about it when I was roaming the soft hills of the quad to make it to the library.  Or when my eyes were bugging out reading the tiny script in my Science book (that cost me 200 buckaroos).  I didn’t think of any of this until I was living at home with my parents, paying my loans and watching Jennifer Aniston movies with my mom (check, check aaaand check).

And I won’t let the rest of you make the same mistake. For all of you still in college or about to embark on the big journey, take the time to appreciate the good life.  Especially the little things:

1. Free EVERYTHING
Free t-shirts, iPod cases, food, water, snacks, toilet paper…. What I wouldn’t give for some free Tootsie Pops right about now.

2. Walking… Everywhere
Sure, traveling by foot everywhere you go can get exhausting (and you feel the constant urge to drive to class…), but I got so much glorious exercise from power walking from class to class to home to Starbucks to class.  Pumping my arms, barely giving one foot enough time to land… I bet I burned thousands of calories every year from Betty Flinestoning my arse around campus.

3. Being Stressed, And Using Stress As An Excuse for Everything
Really…the level of stress in my life in college was always 10 notches below what I always made it seem. And I loved it.  Stress is the perfect excuse for overeating, drinking, and making bad decisions.  And it was always valid! “It’s OK, I’m stressed so I’m going to let myself watch 10 hours of America’s Next Top Model all Saturday and buy a pack of Dove Chocolates from the C-Store..” Stress blissfully carried me into many hangovers, binge eating sessions and naps on my futon. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

4. Cushy Schedule
I never noticed this as a I pounded through every day in college.  Why? Probably because I was busy napping during my 5 hour breaks away until my late night class. A full day of college would have at least 3-800 sweet intervals, offering just enough time for snacking, catching up on TV or catching up on sleep.  And your schedule always changed – every day was a little bit different. But the best part of it all? The opportunity to start at 11am and schedule a three-day weekend at the beginning of every semester. Three-day weekends don’t happen in real life.

5. Dumpy Houses Everyone Lives In
Stop complaining about the constantly dirty floors, the drafty windows and the terrible water pressure in the shower. Do you realize how glorious that hut you call home is? A dumpy house calls for a dumpy, carefree lifestyle.  You can go over to watch Saturday college football and completely put your feet up, get Dorito crumbs everywhere and leave an open beer on the coffee table.  I’m not saying you have to be a complete slob, but Mama isn’t going to come around the corner and convulse on the ground about your terrible living habits.  More like your best guy friend is going to crack you open another beer and turn the channel to the Puppy Olympics (helloooo, Superbowl Sunday).

6. Cocktail prices
You won’t realize this until you’re a post-grad coming back for your first year reunion, but bars in college towns are CHEAP.

7. Roommates
Come second semester, sometimes you want to dump your roommate’s face in the dirty dish water in your sink. But stop. Roommates are so underrated.  They are always there for you to vent about how slow people are walking on the sidewalk and how the elevator isn’t working…again. They are there to let you dig through their closet and spend a guilt-free Friday night going to see the latest chick flick. With roommates, there’s always someone to do something with. And for that I salute you, former roomies!

8. The “College Dress Code”
You probably shouldn’t wear sweats everywhere in college, but if you want to, it’s totally acceptable. And that’s a wonderful thing.

9. Never seeing People Ages 2-8
In college, I would see little kiddies (on average) once or twice a month.  I thought it was so sad…me and my girlfriends would walk through the quad, see a couple with their little girl and start squealing, “Little kids still do exist!! Cute!” I thought it was funny business that lil’ munchkins were never around.  Now, after enduring countless hours in locations where babies are always present (i.e local coffee shops, my place of work, malls) I would love to have that brief respite of tears, diapers and sticky fingers.

10. Seeing a Cute Boy at the Gym
Fact: there is just a higher concentration of good looking guys in college.
Fact: Guys look hot when they’re lifting in those gym shorts.
Don’t take that for granted.

What else is underrated in college? SOUND OFF!

Unfortunately my required outfit is less extravagant

Giving up my nights out was not something I was especially prepared to do when I started scouring my college town for a job; who wants to be folding clothes amidst an asthma-inducing Abercrombie cologne cloud late into the evening when your girls are out at $1 pitcher night? Nobody.

That’s why I became a cocktail waitress.

Well, that and I heard Tiger Woods George Clooney was fond of them.

Naturally, I see a lot of…er… interesting, for lack of a better word, things during the late night shifts. Things that I know I’ve been guilty of doing, and that all you CC ladies are probably guilty of, as well. Believe me, your signature twist+bend and snap combo dance moves do not look as sexy as you think, even if that drunk frat boy tells you they are. And as good as Journey is, “Don’t Stop Believing” is not “the best song of all effing time!!”

Because our thoughts tend to be a little muddled when we’re a few sheets to the stale bar air wind, I thought I’d help everyone see just what a typical drunken night is from a more honest (read: sober) perspective. So join me as we analyze things (hey, we’re all friends here!) from both sides of the crowded bar.

Your Point of View: It’s 11:00pm and you and your friends raced into the bar in 5 inch heels because it’s winter in the Midwest and coats are a pain in the buttcheeks to carry around. The warm air inside brings out a sigh of the relief.

My Point of View: GIRL you must be KIDDING. IT’S WINTER IN THE MIDWEST! Except I’ll tell you that I never wear coats out either and no, your nose isn’t running that bad! Oh, and that happy sigh you made when feeling came back to your fingers sounded more like a cross between the sound I make when I see spider (EEEE!) and when I see a hot Mexican with a beard (ughhhYES).

Your POV: Shots! Shots! Shots! Shotshotshots! I LOVE shots and I LOVE this song!

My POV: I would literally be a millionaire if I got a dollar every time someone ordered shots from me in that manner. A billionaire if I got an additional dollar every time people sang that just to get my attention and then order something completely different.

Your POV: Cutie alert at  ‘clock! Take a quick selfie to see if you’re still looking as hot as you were when you left.

My POV: Much like how a car loses value when you drive it off the lot, all of the effort you put into looking good starts to depreciate when you walk in the bar. There’s no way around it. It’s going to be hot, you’re going to sweat, your perfect hair poof is going to fall flat (unless you’re Snookie, of course), and drinks are going to fall on you. Let’s just all take a second and give thanks to the very forgiving bar lighting.

Your POV: Yes, 4 0′clock cutie noticed you. He walks over, says he remembers you from class, and buys you a drink. Things are going great, so great that you invite him on the dance floor. And if his moves are good (and he buys you a few more rum and diets), maybe you’ll invite him back to your apartment.

My POV: First off, he does not remember you from class. He just chose a random gen ed, like Elementary Psych, because it has 500+ people in the lecture and there was a good chance you took it too. Second, his moves are def not good, but in the back of your head you knew it didn’t matter anyway. Third, men aren’t always good to you, but burritos always are. If he won’t offer to pay for your drunchies after all those drinks he handed out, don’t take him anywhere near your abode.

Your POV: Bartender yells “Last call!” and you get a huge group hug going to tell your girls how much you love them and how you all need to get together again next weekend. You talk afties and Pokey Stix when suddenly all of the lights go on. And suddenly 4 0′clock cutie isn’t looking too good.

My POV: This is by far the best part of my night. Since drink orders are done, it’s my chance to sit back, relax, take a shot with the bartender, and admire all that is going on around me. The look of horror that come over faces as soon as the lights turn on is priceless; just when you thought you were surrounded by hotties in a hip night club, you realize that theses “hotties” are covered in pit stains and your fake tan is running down your face. And that “hip night club” is just a dirty, windowless basement. With dirty bathroom water on the floor.

What a great way to end the night. Now it’s time for me to head home and enjoy my Jimmy Johns #12 with Say Yes to the Dress on DVR.

Easy on the soda water, homegirl.

A couple of days ago three bars at Penn State were fined for “lack of alcohol training.”

What?!

What exactly were those bartenders doing wrong to piss off the authorities? How hard is it to open a bottle of Bud Light or mix vodka and tonic together? It’s not like us college kids are ordering difficult drinks like mudslides and daiquiris at the bar. I think I speak for all of us when I say the only qualities I’m looking for in a bartender are speed and a heavy hand (well, the hand that’s holding the booze). And if they’re a bit slow at math and can’t add my tab correctly, that’s OK too.

The thing is, bartender experience is the least important offense when it comes to college bars. There are far more pressing and disturbing issues that should be addressed. And fined. And fixed!

The Line
I don’t mind waiting in line if the bar is hopping – I’ll just sip my 40 while I wait – but making people stand in line when the bar is empty only to make it look cooler? That should be illegal.

Watered Down Drinks
I did not pay $7 for soda on ice; if I wanted that I would go to the McDonalds down the street and get unlimited refills for a dollar. If I order a Cran-Vodka, I want it to sting as it goes down, not taste like I could put in my 3 year old cousin’s sippy-cup. So stop filling my mini-cup with ice to make me think I’m getting more booze and tip that bottle in there. I’m paying you more for this one drink than a full bottle at the liquor store so stop being so damn stingy.

Bathroom Mayhem
How can the girl’s bathroom look like a hurricane went through it an hour after the bar opens? There are paper towels everywhere, toilets are clogged and overflowing (with god knows what) and there is some unidentifiable sticky substance covering the floor. Can we maybe run a mop through this sucker? A vomit covered bathroom at 4 am? Understandable. Being in this state at 9:30 when we’ve only had time to down three watered-down drinks and are coherent enough to gag at the stench? Not cool.

Show Tunes
There is a certain time when playing “You’re The One That I Want” and “Dancing Queen” becomes acceptable. By 1 am we have had enough to drink that we will dance to absolutely anything, hugging our friends and singing at the top of our lungs. This, however, is not the case at 10 pm. At this time playing show tunes takes us back to those awkward Sweet 16′s where everyone stood in clumps, swaying on the dance floor, not wanting to look stupid in front of the gorgeous guy from class. Help us out a little and play some hip-hop, would ya? We might actually have a chance of looking sexy and luring in a hookup if we have a beat to shake our ass to.

Last Call
If the bar is closing at 2, then a 1:30 last call is acceptable. What is not acceptable is turning on the lights at 1:40 when there is clearly twenty more minutes for me to hunt down my evening prey. How am I supposed to rope in a boy when he can see the makeup melting off my face and my hair plastered to my forehead? Be a dear and leave the lights off, please. I just dropped $30 on soda water with a splash of vodka, so it’s really the least you can do.

What else do bars do that have you guys wishing you could call the authorities?

You’re at a house party or a bar… or in line to get into a house party or bar. It doesn’t matter. Wherever you are, you’ve just spotted a very handsome boy and you want to talk to him. You turn to your friends and point him out.

“OMG, girl, he IS hot. Go to him,” they say. Then you spend the next 5 minutes debating the best conversation starter/reapplying lip gloss/yanking your shirt down a wee bit lower to show off the girls. When everything is in order (“Do I have anything in my teeth??” you ask your friends as you flash a big, toothy smile), you move in.

Due to some extreme Power Houring before leaving the house, your friends are feeling rather rambunctious. As you make your way to get a drink, they shove you into the boy. Not part of the carefully laid out plan, but that move has been known to work wonders in the past.

You grab the boy’s arm (which feels nice and muscley through that button-down shirt of his) and apologize for your friends. He smiles at you. [Swoon.] You offer to buy him a drink to replace the one that spilled when you fell into him. He offers to buy you one instead.

It’s already working.

While waiting at the bar for a bartender (any bartender) to look your way, you start chatting with the boy. You get his name (which you may or may not forget .25 seconds later), his major, his hometown….the usual. Then you start chatting about more important things, like why Vodka and Soda is better than Jack and Coke any day.

As time passes, you start getting a bit closer. First, he rests his arm next to yours on the bar as you sip your drink. Then he puts it around you as someone passes by. When you walk away from the bar, he puts his hand on the small of your back and leads you. When you bump into his friends and start talkin’, he puts his arm around your shoulder (and you put your hand on the small of his back).  Then he starts rubbing your back….

Then his tongue is down your throat and he’s nibbling on your ear in the back corner by the bathroom. And you are getting goose bumps/weak in the knees.

You silently celebrate your success as you debate what to do with the full drink in your hand. You pull away for a second, put that sucker down and start running your hands through the boy’s hair.

While making out in public is completely socially acceptable in college watering holes, knowing your friends (and the rest of the bar) are watching from the corner skeeves you out. You ask the boy if he wants to go. You both pound your drinks, he grabs your hand and you head back to his place… where you wake up 6 hours later under a dirty sheet listening to him snore.

Yeah, we’ve all been there. And if we were smart, we stuck around for a morning romp.

I used to go to them all the time freshman year. We would wander the streets and walk into any house with music playing in hopes that it would be a raging party. 78% of the time it was a couple of seniors sitting around who charged us $10 to share 4 Natty Lights between 8 of us. But once in a while it would be a real house party with music blasting and a basement full of strangers.

Sophomore year I got my fake ID, eventually upgraded to a real ID and began spending my nights out going to the bars. I average 1.5 house parties a year now and they’ve become almost mythological in my mind. While my roommates put on tiny dresses and heels for the bars, I acted like “house party” was a really fun theme party. I threw on a grungy gym t-shirt that totally clashed with my sneakers. I debrushed my hair, and smeared make-up on only parts of my face. My friend who had actually been invited to the party told me I was being offensive; I claimed offensive often gets confused with enthusiasm.

In an effort to save money and be super thrifty I made a vodka-oj water bottle and headed out with my dredded-head held high. We arrived at the party and the sophomore bouncers at the door charged us $4 because there was a live band and unlimited beer. My friends grumbled at the price and discussed just going to the bars. But my outfit said house party and there was no way I was going to give up my dream of a sikk movie-like house party (also I paid less since I had my own drink).

Then I walked into the house and remembered why I no longer go to house parties. People of all ages and sizes were crowded into all the rooms and the house had an overall odor of sweat and sloppiness. Everywhere I looked there were beards on underaged people (male and female) and people wearing ill-fitting clothing. I found the couch and plopped down eager to claim my spot. However I chose the wrong couch because apparently it was in the room where the band was playing. All of a sudden I was surrounded by hipsters bouncing to the beats of a screamy-emo-garage band. I curled up into fetal position in hopes that I wouldn’t be trampled.

Before I could say converse with holes in them, my friend tapped me on the shoulder and told me he wanted to leave. I breathed out a sigh of relief and we headed out. On the way home (it was totally out of the way) we grabbed pizza and ice cream and then sat on his couch for two hours watching Never Been Kissed. Even though the house party wasn’t everything I dreamed it would be, and even though Never Been Kissed is the most unrealistic movie of 1999, I somehow still had a great night and I can confidently say that I have officially gone to my last house party of college.