[Everyone’s got a morning after story (though most don't involve a Harry Potter references?) and we wanna hear yours! Send it over to us and we’ll post it – anonymously, of course – right here!]

It was my first night of freshman year. After my parents finished helping me unpack and hugged me goodbye, I had only one thing on my mind: to get drunk that night. What can I say? I happen to attend one of the schools that consistently makes the Princeton Review’s list of biggest party schools every year (OU, Oh YEAH!) and I had high expectations for my first night out and about. Also, unlike my fellow freshmen, I knew some older kids from high school and had a solid invite to house party. Score.

In honor of the occasion, I insisted that my new roommate and I start the night by taking shots of 140 proof absinthe I’d smuggled back from Europe. Needless to say, we were both pretty trashed before we’d even left the dorm. Not that that fact stopped us from downing the endless cans of Keystone Light that were handed to us throughout the night.

As we left the party, trashed beyond all measures, myself already having broken my shoes, neither of us was looking forward to the trek home. Luckily, one of my guy friends from high school offered to walk us back. He claimed he wanted to make sure we got home safely, but he didn’t do much to help as I fell flat on my back in the middle of the sidewalk. Read More »

[Everyone’s got a morning after story (though some are WAY worse than others) and we wanna hear yours! Send it over to us and we’ll post it – anonymously, of course – right here!]

By now you’re almost half way through Winter Break. You’ve got the major holidays behind you- Christmas eve, Christmas day, New Year’s- and that means pretty much all scenarios involving getting drunk with your family have expired. How’d you do? Make it through with minimal blows to your self-respect, pride, and squeaky-clean image?

If you’re like me and live in a house of crazy, you hit the bottle. Hard. And so did your mother, father, nineteen year-old sister, great aunt, bizarre gay uncle, both grandparents, and that random cousin you think is hot (but he’s only like…a third cousin through a second marriage, so it’s okay).

I suppose this submission isn’t so much a “Morning After” as it is a “Week After,” because let me tell you, the occasions on which I embarrassed myself this holiday season were hardly contained to one evening. Sure I could pick one moment to elaborate on, like when my mother explained to her sisters that all the nice boys at school were so interested in me. Of course I had to open my mouth (full of wine-stained teeth) to correct her. The “nice boys” are only interested in one thing. And I just happen to do that one thing really, really well. Then, naturally, I thanked her for giving me so many popsicles as a kid because I sincerely believe that’s where I get my technique. Read More »

Everyone’s got a morning after story (though some are WAY worse than others) and we wanna hear yours! Send it over to us and we’ll post it – anonymously, of course – right here!]

I was one of the good kids in high school. I didn’t drink. I didn’t do drugs. And my close friends were the same way. During my senior year, my best friend’s parents went out of town and left her in charge of the house. Naturally, she decided to have a party. In our minds, that meant inviting some boys over and hanging out. Not your typical “my parents are out of town” rager, to say the least.

So at 8pm that night, I told my parents I was sleeping at her house and headed over. When I got there, the other 6 or so people had already arrived, including our friend Jordan who was home from his freshman year of college for the weekend. And with him, a “cool new thing” he tried the weekend before.

“Dude, you just mix Robitussin and orange juice and it’s the coolest thing ever. And it’s not like drugs so it’s legal and you won’t get in trouble. But it’s really fun. I did it and was just, like, so happy for, like, 4 hours. Then it goes out of your system.”

He made it sound so fun, so easy, so consequence-free. Plus, being that I’d be heading off to college myself the following year, I thought I should try it. Explore my horizons a bit. So Jordan mixed the concoction for 4 of us (the other 2 were lame…or as I later found out, the smart ones) and we drank up. Read More »

[Everyone’s got a morning after story (though some are WAY worse than others) and we wanna hear yours! Send it over to us and we’ll post it – anonymously, of course – right here!]

I am currently studying abroad in an unspecified location in the world. We’ll just say… not in the U.S. (really narrowing it down there). My host university always organizes events at bars and such for students, but my roommates and I usually just pass on them because they just wind up being these huge all-American fests. But the other night we actually decided to go because this particular bar, in the red-light district, was serving unlimited free wine and beer between 9 p.m. and 10 p.m. and, honestly, who could pass that up?

We did our usual pregame before the bar and all 4 out of my 4 roommates wound up getting wasted. Literally, couldn’t stand up, needed-to-borrow-the-flip-flops-I-conveniently-had-in-my-purse wasted. Mind you, it was only around 8 p.m. We hadn’t even left the house and I was already fully concerned about my roommates’ well-being, mainly because bouncers in this particular city are extremely strict with blatantly belligerent people trying to enter into their clubs (I wonder why…).

But I was worrying for nothing. Somehow all of us managed to get let in and the real (free) drinking quickly began. After we all scurried over to the bar to grab some drinks I wound up chatting it up with an adorable American guy for a really long time while all my roommates disappeared into another adjacent room. I wasn’t too worried though; it was a pretty small place. Only when I finally made my way over there, let’s say around 9:30 p.m., 2 out of the 4 girls were missing. Read More »

[Everyone’s got a morning after story (though most don't involve the walk of shame and someone's dad) and we wanna hear yours! Send it over to us and we’ll post it – anonymously, of course – right here!]

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” was all I heard as I funneled my Natty Light. I was standing on a table (don’t judge) at the dirtiest best frat house on campus, my head tilted back, guzzling down that cheap beer like it was going out of style. (Editor’s Note: Was Natty Light ever in style?) When I was done, I jumped off the table, did a little curtsy and high fived a couple boys, before grabbing my roommate by the arm and dragging her toward the bathroom.

That being my 5th (or 6th? 7th?) beer of the night, it had gone straight through me and there was no way I was going to wait in that bathroom line all by myself.

The line was long but I didn’t mind. It gave me plenty of time to soak up all the “you go girl”s and “you’ve got mad chugging skills, woman”s that came my way. I smiled, blushed and crossed my legs to keep my broken seal from dripping down my legs.

When it was finally my turn, my roomie and I rushed in so I could relive my bladder and dissect my arch enemy’s truly hideous outfit choice for the night (the girl was wearing a skirt so short I could see if she was ovulating….. needless to say, there was plenty to talk about). We were so caught up in our conversation (and perhaps taking a few funny bathroom pics) that we ignored the angry knocks on the door (as well as the angry, “what are you doing in there, pooping?”) and took our own sweet time. Read More »

To most, summer means reuniting with hometown friends, hosting backyard barbecues with beer pong, and traveling around the world with the college budget out of sight. But for me, this past summer meant going home to jobs, internships and the tiny closet I haven’t used since high school. The three months of being at home again would be the longest period of time I would be living under my parents’ roof (and rules, again) since coming to college, which meant three months without going out, partying and/or anything else of college student fun.

It also meant three months without sex. I’m not a nympho, but I do have a functioning vagina. So it was a loooonnng summer.

Read More »

[Everyone’s got a morning after story (though most don't involve a large group of potential sorority sisters) and we wanna hear yours! Send it over to us and we’ll post it – anonymously, of course – right here!]

So one time I hooked up with a freshman. And I liked it. But I knew (or thought) it would be a one time thing.  Kind of like drinking a Venti before rush-hour was a one-time thing. Or shamelessly Googling pictures of Zac Efron. Or drinking margaritas on a Monday morning.

Yeah. Oops, I did it again.

Only this time he’s a sophomore…
And I’m about 4 months past graduation.

You’d think I would have figured these things out by now (that I’m probably too old to be prancing around the local college dive bar scoping out the sophomore scene), but I was too ignorant and curious.

He was just so sweet when I saw him.  He danced with me to my favorite Rihanna songs, bought me a Bud Light, held my hand while we stood up against the bar and made out.  His lips were just so soft and luscious.  Besides, I have been living at home for the past three months and hadn’t “gone all out” in way too long.  Like Fabolous would always say, this was my time. Read More »

[Everyone’s got a morning after story (some of which are way more mortifying than others) and we wanna hear yours! Send it over to us and we’ll post it – anonymously, of course – right here!]

After a lot of internal debate and a few pro-con lists (and one venn diagram), I made the decision not to rush. So the night before rush began, I went out with a friend, tried on my first pair of beer goggles, and went home with David. He lived in a dorm all the way across campus so I made the safe/lazy decision to just spend the night in his ultra-luxurious extra-long dorm bed. In my head I assumed we would wake up and talk about everything under the sun including pop culture happenings, crazy campus construction news, the location of my bra, and breakfast ideas.

But it didn’t go as planned. He woke me up bright and early, said he had “stuff” to do, and kicked me out before I could even get dressed. So I left the dorm and began the long walk back to my dorm. Except I forgot about rush.

Read More »

[Everyone’s got a morning after story (some of which are way more mortifying than others) and we wanna hear yours! Send it over to us and we’ll post it – anonymously, of course – right here!]

I fell in love with Danny my freshman year of college when he dressed up as a sexy pterodactyl on Halloween. We lived on the same floor freshman year and I always went out of my way to run into him in the hallway. Like I would walk around outside his room claiming that I dropped my contact on the carpet somewhere in that exact area. Despite my complete awkwardness, we became really good friends and we spent the next two years heavily flirting with each other. But one of us was always involved with someone or getting over someone or hitting shamelessly on freshman girls (him!) and it never happened.

Until last Friday.

We were sitting on his couch eating college nachos (you know what I’m talking about…when you come home drunk and melt cheese on any and all crackers, pretzels, chips, cookies) and I got a sudden surge of confidence. I don’t know whether it was his cheesy breath or the fact that I drank tequila for the first time since freshman year, but I leaned in for the kiss. He leaned int too and before anyone could say “kisses con queso” (because who would say that?) we were in the throes of a passionate makeout sesh on the couch. At one point we came up for air and admitted to each other that we had both liked each other forever. Obvi this love confession swept me off my feet and I led him into the bedroom. It was fireworks, rom-com movies, and all that jazz. Read More »

[Everyone’s got a morning after story (some of which are way more mortifying than others) and we wanna hear yours! Send it over to us and we’ll post it – anonymously, of course – right here!]

I’ve come to learn two fundamental truths this week: the happy hour does not exist, and breaking and entering is easier than it looks. I’m serious.

If I had known that a quick drink with a friend after work was going to lead to free steaks with married men, a rooftop bar with what may or may not have been a British boy band on holiday, and a late night snack session alone in my friend’s boss’s apartment, I would have worn a better outfit to work that day.  Because that’s my biggest regret of the night… obvi.

But as I was saying before, there is no singular hour that is happy, at least not in my world. Personally, I want each hour to be happier than the next. And I accomplished that, to the max, with my friend Monica this past (epic) Wednesday night. One beer turned into three different bars, multiple drafts, and a gaggle of new male friends with money to spend. So, despite the wedding bands and balding heads, when they offered to take us out to dinner, who were we to say no? Read More »