Is it true though? Or are the tabloids just running exaggerated fantasies to harpoon mass appeal? It’s hard to know because these grandiose lifestyles are perpetuated by the attention drawn to them (unless the celebrity is actually talented). Case in point — the Kardashian sex tape.

Bad publicity is good publicity, I suppose… especially for the venues that become associated with celebrity attendance (who doesn’t want to go to places where you might see a rockstar in a bar fight or catch Paris Hilton stripping down to… well… a slightly more naked version of her usual self?).

When talking about club publicity, nothing turns up the temp on a particular venue more than the drug habits of the celebrities. The scandalous behaviors of one Miss Britney Spears has made headlines for a variety of clubs in New York including an all time personal favorite, Marquee. Yes, she has been caught using drugs in the public bathrooms all around town and she’s not the only one. The question then becomes, of course, how many drugs are being done in these places? Certainly you run a high risk (pun intended) of being caught abusing drugs if you are a celebrity, but what about us ordinary folk? Are drugs swimming through the clubs as the tabloids would have us believe?

The answer is YES. I would never consider myself a drug abuser, but I know first hand that almost every club I have been to has it’s own underground microcosmic drug scene. Club Stereo was closed last year after several cocaine busts, though this came as no shock as Stereo was known for being “pot friendly” and leaving the club was like opening the Scoobie Doo van (smoke pouring out). Tenjune turns the other cheek when it comes to smoking the reefer in the VIP section and won’t ask why there are so many girls leaving the bathroom with runny noses. The real shocker comes from Le Souk where I witnessed some special k being snorted in the wide open.

I have also witnessed people getting arrested. Again, Club Stereo, you win in this department with flying colors. On two — no three occasions I witnessed drug raids there, but in the end, drug use was far far more frequent than the arrests that were made. This can probably be said true for almost any club and can be said especially true for celebrities. Amongst my celebrity encounters few involved sobriety (or much respect for, I dunno… THE LAW). Indeed, the Studio 54 mentality lives on in places like Bungalow 8 (where you might just order “a rum and coke.. hold the rum”).

These scenes are often under the radar of the public because of tight security. It’s nearly impossible to get in unless you know someone, ARE a celebrity or (at the very least) have your very own assistant. Places rarely have to answer to the law because undercover cops simply do not fit the demographic of these super-dooper (more like super-doper) high-end venues.

This doesn’t mean that the celebrity lives we read about aren’t embellished to perfection, but it certainly adds validity to the stories. The truth of the matter is, we aren’t living lives so separate from those we read about and if anything can be learned from the tabloids, it’s two things: 1) where the drugs are 2) where people get caught doing them.

On Tuesday night I decided to go out with the ladies—no biggie, it’s happened before. But here’s the catch—I’ve never taken three weeks off from drinking before (since the start of college). I know, I know—“how sad”—wutevs. Anyways, sadly—but true—6 beers later and I was smashed. Cheapest night out I’ve had in a while, I’ll tell you what!

So I left the bar around 2:20a.m.—maybe?—and jumped into bed with my boy. All was good, the room was spinning only slightly, and before I knew it I was passed out and apparently in a drunken coma.

7:00a.m. rolled around and I awoke to the sun blazing in my eyes and a moderate size puddle underneath my bare booty. My first thoughts were that the dog had done it. Keep in mind I was at my boyfriend’s apartment and he had done me the favor of dog-sitting while I went out and got “crazy” with the ladies.

I jumped out of bed, desperately trying not to wake my boyfriend, all the while attempting to silently scold the pup for making wee-wee in the sheets. Turns out however, that I myself was soaking wet and the pup was on the other side of the bed, sleeping above the covers.

I was mortified.

I grabbed the nearest towel, threw it over the wet spot, and wooed myself to sleep as quickly as possible. When we woke up later that morning the spot was gone and he hadn’t a clue.

Well, now if he reads this he will. But seriously, what better way to find out that your girlfriend pissed your bed in her drunken stupor?

Apparently everybody’s doin’ it so I really don’t feel all that ashamed. I mean don’t get me wrong, it’s disgusting and I’m supposed to be a “lady” and all that jazz, but this is not the first time I’ve heard of someone wetting the bed while drunk, or wetting themselves in any fashion while drunk. Kegs and Eggs freshman year I proceeded to pee my pants 6 different times throughout the day. My argument, I had an amazing spot at the bar and I was already wet so what the hell!

People have been peeing their pants while drunk for decades and while I was looking forward to proudly graduating without ever peeing in the actual bed, I’m taking it all in stride—and besides it wasn’t technically my bed so again, wutevs!

In the words of Adam Sandler, “You’re not cool unless you piss your pants.”