There is a first time for everything. And since I’ve graduated, I’ve been waiting for the first time my college ID would no longer work for a discount at the bar. My mixed feelings of excitement and reduced pride lingered, but I was confident most of the students wouldn’t even know who I was. That means, for one Thursday night, I could play pretend and listen to the slutty little angel sitting on my shoulder.

Me and a few girlfriends put on our highest heels and tightest jeans, teased out our hair, chugged a glass of wine and strut our stuff downtown. For the first time, I felt a hint of cougar status brew in my insides. I was only a year older than most of the people in the bar…aside from the 18-year-old freshman busting in with fake IDs. But we all promised ourselves that this was only an experiment — to hands-on discover how much we’d grown up in the past year. Right?

We waltzed into the bar feeling young, fresh and slightly secret detective-esque. Our mission was activated. (That being Mission: Let’s stick out our boobs and pretend we like sticky bar receipts and regrets). Oddly, the first realization of the evening was that I’d never noticed the smell of the bar: stale, pungent beer. The music was insanely loud, the men boys were sweaty and drunk. The girls were sexed up like a ton of horny toads (hint: exposed zippers, leather and heels). And as we did the first crowd scan, I felt more alive than I had since I got 13 hours of sleep the night before. I had forgotten how invigorating a college night out could be.

We bought some shots and started “doing rounds” across the bar. Then, we did another shot and giggled when it dribbled down our chins. How rookie of us graduates! Side Note: The shots were shooters. Straight vodka sounded like a living nightmare. Once we were thoroughly buzzed, we took to the dance floor and observed. After making a rough estimate of the babies that were going to be created after last call, we were offered drinks by a young man wearing a college sweatshirt and a spray tan. #Winning

The night was panning out pretty well, until I spotted a freshman (now sophomore) that I had “accidentally” hooked up with last year on a flimsy whim. Needless to say, we re-located to the other bar. I couldn’t stand to face the young man who farted on my leg the morning I woke up on his futon. I wish I were kidding.

As the night wore on, everyone reached “I’m drunk and no longer know where I am status.” My girlfriends and I were still going off the little buzz we had gained from our shooter shots and watched with pleasure. The 3am hook-ups unraveling, the girl-on-girl arguments taking course, group shots, sloppy final dances…all of it was there. It was then, as I was standing along the bar with heavy eyes and a light heart, that I noticed something.

I had experienced this all before. And I had experienced it well. All four years of my college experience were this. And that was the perfect amount. Like a little college ghost spirit, the yearning for terribly hungover mornings and exceedingly dramatic dances with sweaty boys, had left. All I needed to arrive at this realization was one night back in the game. I smiled to myself as someone spilled a warm beer on my shoulder. As happy as I had been to take it all in during college, it was OK to leave it all behind. For mature things like late night wine binges at home, blogging, getting up early for coffee and having an entire hangover-free day for productive activities (i.e. grown up things).

As my girlfriends and I walked out of the bar and searched high and low for a taxi, we huddled in a group and decided life was moving in the right direction. With, or without hardcore college parties.

Mission accomplished.

Love/hate relationships aren’t just reserved for you and that hot-but-arrogant dude in your study group.  It’s a sometimes-sad truth that frenemies can be found anywhere: on the latest episode of Gossip Girl, at home when your sister borrows your favorite dress and rips it, in Starbucks when the longest line in history stands between you and your morning caffeine fix…heck, even on campus you’re often left feeling a bit bipolar.

If you think I’m exaggerating, you’re probably still enjoying the honeymoon phase of your friendship with the dorm’s biggest partier or that amazing professor who teaches the most boring subject matter.  Take a look at these top offenders and see where you weigh in…

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.

You may recognize Susan Juby’s name; that’s because she is a best-selling teen fiction author. She is also a recovered alcoholic. Juby’s memoir begins with her first, very insignificant drink at a wedding, but her alcoholism actually starts when she is 13. Always considered a bright, capable student and gifted writer, she decides to start hanging out with the wrong crowd (or the people her mother refers to as “bad news”) and gets heavy into partying. After being sent to live with various relatives all over British Columbia and somehow managing to graduate high school, Juby moves on to fashion design school in Toronto. Once there, she continues to drink herself silly and, eventually, out of school. During her time as a student, she out-drinks everyone she meets and begins to see a bigger and bigger divide forming between her and her peers when it comes to drinking. Then, she gets a couple wake-up calls and decides to sober up at the ripe old age of 20, just when most people begin their drinking career.

I found that I was really able to relate to Susan’s story. I myself was a pretty big partier in high school and have since considerably settled down. I’m not sober, but I haven’t been drunk in over a year, and I kind of like it that way. People can never believe how little I drink and that I have no desire to get hammered. I’m constantly being pressured by friends, but honestly, drinking effects me way too much and the night out is never worth the hangover (at least in my case!). Anyways, my feelings aside, the book is so refreshing and definitely stands out amongst the alcoholic-memoirs I’ve read. It’s poignant, funny and above all, totally real.

One of my favorite parts of this entire book was the disclaimer Juby makes at the beginning. She says that because the majority of the time period she is writing about was spent in blackouts, that she cannot guarantee 100% accuracy. She goes on to say that alcoholics are notorious liars and someone who claims that their story is totally true is simply just using that acquired skill and bluffing. This whole book is filled with honesty of this caliber and I applaud her for being so open with the entire world about her struggle.

“Nice Recovery” is a great summer read. Susan Juby delves into a heavy subject, but keeps it light-hearted and entertaining. You’ll never find yourself sobbing over the situations or stories in this one, but it will make you think and maybe just change your perspective.

"Dude, we're not drinking this....we're gonna eyeball it, brah!"

If you’ve ever dreamed of a vodka IV on those nights where you just can’t seem to throw back that very last much needed shot of Belvedere Popov, some sickos (read: exceptionally inebriated college guys in some dirty, smelly frat basement) have devised a new method of intoxication that comes awfully close.

This absurd mode of alcohol ingestion is being called ‘vodka eyeballing,’ which is as gross/disturbing/effed up as it sounds. In a nutshell, you shoot vodka through your eye. The drinking trend is said to be making its way from Britain to the U.S., specifically in Vegas nightclubs. (Because when you spend $200 on a bottle of Skyy, it only makes sense not to waste it in your mouth….)

Those who carry out this horrific idea claim it helps you get drunk faster, however experts (Editor’s Note: What does it take to be a Vodka Eyeballing expert?!) are rather skeptical. They say this method would, in fact, allow very little alcohol to be absorbed and also warn about serious consequences from this, such as clotting of the blood vessels, constantly watering eyes and even deterioration of eyesight. Or the most obvious: looking like a total moron.

I don’t even know what to say about all this, really. Except that I think it is idiotic and revolting to the point that it kind of makes me lose faith in humanity altogether. Well, I suppose I’m exaggerating a bit; I’ve definitely heard worse. Like that whole soaking your tampon in vodka thing or even shoving a beer bong in your butt. Can’t people just pour themselves a vodka tonic and be done with it!?

But I’m getting off course here…

Honestly, the most disturbing thing about this whole “trend” is not the fact that someone actually came up with it; it’s that I actually know a few morons dumb enough to try it.

“Dude, this is gonna be AWESOME. It’s just like contact solution! But more fun!”

OH DEAR GOD. Please, for me, don’t try this at home.

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.

Need a reason to drink? Need some motivation? Too young to get into the bars?

These three games are sure-fire ways to get drunk and have fun without ever having to leave the house/dorm. Or simply as a little fun before the main event. Whatever. They are fun. Play them.

Beer Pong: This is the ultimate drinking game. If you don’t like beer, replace it with cider or Smirnoff or Bacardi (not straight up, please…you may die) or anything else tasty. Side note: In my recent travels abroad, I discovered that we Americans take this game very, very seriously. Do not attempt to cheat during a beer pong game. You will be seriously heckled and possibly thrown out. Unless everyone’s too drunk to notice (which is entirely possible).

Flip Cup: The first time I played this, I didn’t realize that the entire team had to flip their cups over. I thought the contest was over after the first pair. And everyone was just looking, and looking, and looking at me…

Kings: I couldn’t find a satisfactory link to rules, so here they are as I play it. (Which is the best way.):

First, place a large cup or beer mug in the center of the table. Then shuffle the cards and spread them in a circle around the cup. Each player will take turns picking a card from anywhere in the circle and following the corresponding rule.

Ace: God. The person who drew the card makes up a rule. The harder it is to follow, the better. For example, the prohibition of all pronouns (no “he”, “she”, “it”, “I”, or “you”).

Two: You. The person who drew the card picks someone else to drink. This is a one-time thing.

Three: Me. The person who drew the card drinks.

Four: Whores. Sorry ladies, I didn’t pick the wording. All of the women at the table take a drink.

Five: Waterfall. The person who drew the card starts drinking and determines the direction in

which the waterfall goes. He or she is also the person who may stop drinking first. Every consecutive person must continue drinking until the person in front of them has stopped.

Six: Dicks. Yes men, go ahead and wave them around. Take a drink.

Seven: Heaven. The last person to point to the sky has to knock one back.

Eight: Pick a mate. The person who drew the card picks someone who will drink at the same time as them for the rest of the game.

Nine: Bust a rhyme. The person who drew starts with a word and every person after must say a rhyming word, with no repetitions and no hesitations. If your brain freezes, you’re stuck drinking.

Ten: Categories. The person who drew picks a category and starts naming an item from that category. Everyone else continues in that category with no repetitions or hesitations, and you guessed it, the first person to crack drinks. Example: Fruit- kiwi, apple, watermelon, etc.

Jack: Thumbmaster. The person who drew becomes the Thumbmaster until the next Jack is drawn, at which point the new person is the Thumbmaster. This means that whenever he or she puts their thumb on the table, everyone else must put their thumb on the table and the last person to notice takes a swig of their drink. The object is to do it as surreptitiously as possible.

Queens: Questionmaster. This person becomes the Questionmaster until the next Queen is drawn. He or she will attempt to trick people into having to drink by asking them questions, to which the reply should only be another question, otherwise you’re tippin’ back your glass.

Kings: For the first three Kings drawn, the person who picked the card pours as much of their drink as they want into the central cup. The person who draws the last King must drink the entire contents of the cup. You do not want to get stuck drinking the cup in the middle. Especially if everyone at the table has different drinks. You end up with some kind of vodka-beer-Jager combo to swallow….and keep down.

More Drinkin’ Fun: If you’re feeling just a little bit racy, Never Have I Ever and My Penis, My Vagina can take you for a walk on the wild side. And, because I am verging on alcoholism, I like to drink on the weekdays during Family Guy. And then get seasick on the way home.

Here are links so that you can play and drink to your heart’s content:

Your guide to any drinking game you ever imagined, and some you haven’t.

For those nights when you also feel like getting drunk while watching TV.

You know the guys I’m talking about.

They’re your friends from elementary school. They’re your roomies who you like to pretend don’t have penises. They’re your colleagues, family friends, they’re a large percentage of all of the guys you know. And here is what they all have in common: THEY DON’T KNOW HOW TO GIVE UP.

Maybe you know in the back of your mind somewhere that this guy would totally sleep with you if you gave him the opportunity. He’s a guy, after all. But you’ve made it clear you don’t want to take things there and he’s acted like he understands.

Until it’s time for a dirty joke.

Or until he’s drunk.

Or until you start getting serious with another guy.

And there he is, waving thats little obnoxious flag of his in your face. The flag that lets you know that the ridiculous games have once again begun: the game of cat and mouse. That he won’t give up.

What is it that makes these guys tick? What is it that makes them absolutely resistant to being turned down by you? What is it that makes them say, “Hell, screw it, I’ll ask her out for the 100th time” after you’ve already told him that he is like a brother to you?

This mystery baffles me. I have no idea how to figure out this puzzle that lies in so many of the guys who I know. So I’m reaching out….do you have guy friends like this? What makes them stop? And do they even know how awkward they’re making things?

When I was an undergrad, I guess getting incredibly shit-housed what somewhat acceptable. We all did it. It happened to everyone at some point (or at lots of points) during those four years. Unfortunately for me, I had to do it just one more time before I realized that getting frat party drunk should have been left behind when I left college.

5. No one wants you on their flip cup team because you suck. Really, I was ostracized.

4. Your mouth has a mind of its own. While playing beer pong, someone tried to throw a ball at me (I think I started that trend). I am deathly afraid of flying objects and actually said, “The only balls I like are the ones that are going to be in my mouth later.” Yes, I said that. To strangers. God, I’m so classy.

3. You take shots of Jack Daniels because someone wants to toast the South. Obvi, no proud southerner would turn that down! And then, when you don’t take the whole shot at once someone makes a comment about Southerners and you chase them (yes, chase them) like a five year old on the playground. How old am I?

2. Getting kicked out of a party because you passed out is not cool. The front steps, a parent’s bedroom; not much will stop me when I’m ready to sleep.

1. Your friend’s mother has to tuck you into bed. Enough said. That’s embarrassing.

No, it wasn’t the proudest moment of my life. I’m pretty sure I made an awesome impression on all these people that had NEVER met me before. Which is why, I have now vowed to leave my body shot, bar dancing, too many beers to remember nights in the past. Right where they belong.

Perhaps I’m a classic case of a good (ish) girl who falls in love with bad boys because seriously—when Jack starts round kicking, and pummeling some evil, leather jacket clad terrorist—I almost slide off my seat. It’s just so… masculine. Damn.

This season has been slightly disappointing—every episode looks like its going to be the “big one” where Jack takes out at least 7 people in a five minute time span, and then… nothing. But with only three episodes left, you can bet blood will be shed. Which is why this is the time to get together with your friends, and play the 24 drinking game.

There are many different variations of the game, but the most common rules are—Jack kills someone, take a shot. Jack says “damn it,” take a shot. Jack goes rogue, take a shot. And even though 24 is the best show ever of all time (and don’t try and argue with me—you are entitled to your opinion, but I will never be swayed), there are certain things you can count on that the script writers always throw in there. Which is why everyone ends up hammered by the end of this.

Here is the full list of shot cues. I myself will be watching the show from a bar which offers a Jack Bauer Power Hour—cheap Jack Daniels, free shots whenever Jack kills someone, and an open bar if Keifer himself shows up, hops up on the bar, and says, “My name is Jack Bauer and this is the longest day of my life.” I’m crossing my fingers….

If you’re not a 24 fan—this site offers drinking games to nearly every television show ever. I’m about to go out and buy the first two seasons of 90210 just to play the game—and cause I miss watching Shannon Doherty be the biggest bitch in the zip code. God, I love her.