It’s 4:30am. You just got home from the bar and all you want is food. In your belly. Right now.

Unfortunately, your favorite pizza/ burrito/ burger/ neighborhood CVS closed 30 minutes ago and you are left to fend for yourself. Right. Because you could barely get your key in the front door, let alone boil water for some mac and cheese. (Mmmmm mac and cheeeeeese.)

Even a frozen pizza is much too difficult to figure out right now. Turn on an oven? To 350? Then wait 30 minutes? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!

Lucky for you, the food industry has been busy creating products for people on the go, which also happen to work quite well for people who are too-drunk-to-function. Yes, that would be you. Just stock up on any and all of these little guys and you are good to go when the Beer Pong tourny is over and you can’t remember your name (or how you made it home with one shoe and a missing bra…): Read More »

Being in a relationship is great, but getting there totally sucks. You meet someone, start to like that someone and then go crazy trying to figure out if they like you, why they aren’t calling, if you should text them, if you should have kissed them, if telling them you love The Hills was too much information…

It sucks, which is why I think one-night stands are the way to go. Seriously, if you are safe (read: wrap that sh*t up) the one-night engagement is a total win/win. And here are 5 reasons why: Read More »

I Love pizza. With a capital “L”.

There is nothing better than a crispy crust smothered in hot, gooey cheese. Add some grilled onions and mushrooms and I am dunzo.

The only thing better than a slice of pizza, actually, is an entire pie a slice of pizza after a night of drinking.

Yes, like unattractive guys and all songs written and produced in the 80’s, my love for pizza grows immensely when alcohol is involved.

It is like I am one of Pavlov’s dogs; the minute I taste beer, I start drooling for a slice of pie.

My cravings only grow more severe as the night progresses. With every downed shot I imagine my date with my precious pizza pie. So, when the opportunity finally presents itself, I go to town without any thought given to potential collateral damage.

Like my tongue, for instance.

Or the roof of my mouth.

What? Like you could wait the 20 minutes it takes to get home, the 10 minutes it takes to decide what delectable toppings/debate the need for a side of cheesy breadsticks, and the 35 minutes to actually get the pizza and NOT dive right in the minute it arrives? Read More »

I was the only roommate who had gone out that night, and there was evidence that I didn’t come home alone.

There had been a 4 AM pizza purchase, the only remnant being the box. Maybe a crumb or two. And my purse sitting next to the mess.

On weekends, the diet gets thrown aside and I accept that I am weak. I’m what is described in Mean Girls as one of the “girls who eat their feelings.” Unfortunately, with college, the feeling that got a significant amount of play was “tipsy”, and with said buzz came a slew of delicious calories I’d only remember halfway into the next day.

The biggest regret of the drinking was (almost always) what I’d eaten. I try to justify the binge eating by saying it’s a far better alternative to, say, waking up next to a random.

When I’m coming home from the bar, it’s as though any self control I’ve ever had is on vacation and any restaurant open after last call is a free-for-all. You come home, and you have just enough energy to stay up for a bit, long enough for a slice or an order of nachos. You wake up realizing that you’ve blown through your budget of saved calories and your skinny jeans are going to stay in their drawer a little longer than expected.

So to prevent post-bar disasters, here are a few tricks that can help keep you in check: Read More »