I don’t know about you but I cannot physically take my hungover-self anywhere but from the bed to the couch and maybe to the toilet. Like the rest of the world, last night I partied way too hard to bring in the New Year (definitely a level I will not reach again until 2013) and now my poor body hates me.

I’m armed with Advil, my favorite blanket, all my pillows, a big glass of water and, if I scream loud enough, I’m sure someone will bring me toast. Between alternating TV time with computer time, I’m lost in thought thinking about all the beautiful, comfy locations I’d rather be.

Get ready to cry your eyes out with both joy and [hangover] pain at all the places I would accept as my Hangover Paradise. If only I could stand up long enough without wanting to puke so I could get there… Read More »

College made life so easy. Seriously. I was effortlessly plopped onto a large mass of land with tons of people my age who had the same goals (AKA make it to class and survive finals week sober). Then, college provided all of us with a giant room to eat (cafeteria), a giant room to nurse a hangover and take naps on tables (library) and a giant neighborhood to spend our weekends guzzling weird combinations of booze and Juicy Juice (off campus housing).

College was a large Biodome for easy mistakes, debauchery, learning and living. And now that I’ve been out of college for a while, a few things have become irresistibly harder to accomplish without this grand ol’ biodome of easy living. I’ve dealt with the following combo platter of difficulties in the real world, and in every situation I contemplated ripping my hair out. They get harder to cope with, people! And I’m going to make up this silly excuse that it’s because I’m growing up. Read More »

Oh, the hangover.

And I’m not talking about the one where Bradley Cooper prances around and humps a tiger near a cop car.  I’m talking about the one where you wake up feeling like a shriveled, dehydrated raisin and you can barely curl up in fetal position without feeling nauseous let alone want to hump things.

Hangovers wake me up promptly in the morning to remind me why I try not to eat Taco Bell on sober nights. Whenever I wake up from a hangover, my mouth feels like the inside of a cotton swab, I can barely swallow down my multi-vitamin, and I hate it when people look at me in public.

I know two things for sure in life: Santa Clause isn’t real and I can’t order a time traveling device for next Friday when I’m hung over on Sunday.  But, there is hope. Hope in responsible, prepared, and hangover free form.  Let’s zap those hangovers and look ahead to a bright future (without a migraine).

A Gatorade Nightcap

Right before passing out like your head weighs fifty pounds getting some shut-eye , chug some purple Gatorade.  OK, so it doesn’t have to be purple, but that’s just my personal preference.  Anyway, why do you think all those jacked athletes chug the stuff?  That’s right, electrolytes.  Serena Williams shouldn’t be only one sippin’ the juice. Alcohol dehydrates you – that’s what gives you that drunken feeling/Beyonce-like dance moves – so the obvious way to combat that is by, duh, re-hydrating.

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When most people think of Groundhog Day, they probably picture a medium sized rodent climbing out of a hole in an attempt to determine whether we’re going to have an early spring, or if the mountains of snow are just going to keep on coming. But when we think of Groundhog Day, we think of Bill Murray.

You know, Groundhog Day. The movie. You’re with me? Right. Well in Groundhog Day Murray gets to relive the same day over and over again, Groundhog Day, which wasn’t so great for him because he kept messing everything up. But still, we’re a little bit jealous. There are plenty of days in college we’d love to live over and over and over again, and never change a thing. (Editor’s Note: Or the whole thing? Please?)

Here are our top 5:

1. Your 21st Birthday. This is it. The day you’ve been waiting for. The day you take your first legal drink. The day that’s all about you. An excuse to splurge on a fabulous new, totally 21 outfit. Silly hats. Sashes. Maybe even a tiara to go with that sparkly dress? Free shots. Lots and lots of liquor. And the perfect excuse to go up to a boy and ask him if he’ll buy you a drink. The perfect excuse to do whatever you want, whenever you want to. Because nothing is a better excuse for drunken bar top dancing than “It’s my 21st birthday!” It should be noted though, powers that be, that we want to relive our 21^st birthdays, not the morning after hangovers. Read More »

“What happened last night?”

Ahh, the blackout. These words have become oh-so-familiar over the past two years I’ve spent at this fine university. Sunday mornings – Gatorade and a McDonald’s breakfast sandwich in hand – I sit in my living room with my roommates, attempting to piece together the events from the night before. Looking through pictures, decoding unintelligible text messages sent to the cute guy from Calculus, my friend apologizing for puking on my shoes or stealing my pizza before I had a chance to get the door.

I can’t be mad at them though, or even blame them. Sometimes the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol takes over and there is no turning back. They are no longer the same person and are going to do things they wouldn’t normally do. Like the infamous girl-on-girl makeout sesh which is now plastered all over Facebook.

But like they taught you in elementary school, it’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt. And recently, that person was me.

My boyfriend and I have been together for over two vomit-includingly cute years. We moved in together in August to a new apartment where he makes me dinner after a long night at work, and we’ve even talked marriage.

We were the stereotypical happy couple until about two weeks ago during a blackout sorta night.

All of my friends were finally back in town before this spring (spring? There’s two feet of snow outside) semester started, so naturally we had to celebrate get wasted. After a long night of cheap vodka and too many shots at the bar, we went back to my friend’s apartment for afties. Just another successful night.

That is, until I realized that my boyfriend was missing and I had no idea where he was. I started roaming around the apartment. I looked in the kitchen, then the bathroom. Nothing. Finally, I peeked my head into my friend’s bedroom and there he was. Naked. On top of a girl. Who was also naked. Read More »

Who loves Friday? We do, we do!

The clock has officially struck 5 (for us, at least…sorry West Coast), the booze is officially in hand, and we’re ready for the weekend! And, quite frankly, we deserve it. It’s been a busy week around here and we are really effing tired.

We learned what doesn’t mix well with alcohol, and that beer is really good for us!

We figured out why we can’t stop eating. (Though we still wonder why we can’t stop drinking…)

We spent a lot of time looking in the mirror; we are too narcissistic for anyone else to love us, after all.

We screamed at people for annoying us with their technology, and learned what is appropriate and what is not when it comes to using it.

We contemplated abstinence (sorta…), but only because we just do not want a baby and the birth control pill can kill us.

We tried to get our BF to cuddle with us by indulging his very naughty sexual fantasies.

Oh yeah. We also entered the CollegeCandy contest to see No Doubt for free.

And now we’re dunzo. And drinking. There is nothing quite like a delicious summer weekend. Especially when you know the cure for hangovers.

Alright people, let’s get two things straight. 1) I love (loooove) drinking and 2) I am pretty damn serious about my GPA. A paradox, I know, but one that has contributed greatly to my collegiate success (both in and out of the bars). Unfortunately these two qualities clash in a major way when my morning lectures (ok and sometimes afternoon classes if I’ve been hitting the Franz a little too hard) and hangovers coincide.

Naturally, my first reaction is to stumble out of bed, put on the first item of clothing that most nearly resembles sweatpants and yank a gym shirt over my head as I groan “ughhhhh” on the way out the door.

Sadly, professors and attractive classmates do not take kindly to my arrival in class looking like Britney circa February 2008–and chances are yours don’t either. So instead of being shunned for your dedication to class attendance (I mean, you’re making the effort right?!) I’ve thrown together a handy list of fashion saviors for even the most hungover of mornings.

You’ll look as put together as one possibly can after a night of hollering 80′s classics and harassing the bartender, and no one will be the wiser (except for the person sitting next to you enjoying your Eau de Skol…) Read More »

Some of my favorite weekends and least regrettable hangovers are courtesy of long nights spent playing traveling drinking games. Forget laid back games involving ping pong balls or a deck of cards – I’m talking about mobile, interactive drinking games that get you drunk quick and keep you there all night.

Plus you’ll have some fantastic photos of your sloppy buddies in novelty costumes…for better or worse.

My two favorites are Le Tour De Franzia and Liquid Golf. Here the rules:

If you look online, the Tour has a few variations. Here’s how we do it where I come from:

1. Assemble two or three teams of 10-12 people each. Prior to the event, give each team a color or tell everyone to come in cycling/fitness clothes. Helmets are encouraged (and may very well be necessary by the end of the night).

2. When the whistle blows, each team starts drinking a box of the best boxed wine around: Franzia. You can keep things tame, or get rid of the box for increased excitement. “Slapping the bag,” is half the fun of drinking boxed wine. Heaven knows it doesn’t taste very good. Read More »

Lots of people in the USA like to complain about the drinking age. And by lots of people, I mainly mean those who are under the legal drinking age of 21.

This included me when I was underage. I used to rant continually to any listening ear around me about how hard it was for me to get into bars. I despised the injustice of the photo ID and the fact that I had to constantly verse myself in the full name, birthday, and address of the older friend I was always pretending to be while out on the town.

I had a boyfriend in London and HE was allowed to drink already. It drove me, as he would say, mad. However, now that I’m a few years past the drinking age and a few years wiser, I have come to understand how detrimental a legal drinking age of 18, for instance, could have been to my life.

If I had been drinking (legally) when I was 18, things would be different for me now, I reckon: Read More »

Because my college career will be drawing to a close soon, my mind is winding its way towards that point in my life when I will no longer be a carefree college student. I will be a— what do they call it again? A grown-up?

In that same frame of mind, I’ve been looking at my so-called grown-up friends to see how their lives are different from my own, searching for things that would tell me when I’ve become one of them, or if maybe -gasp- I’m already there. Here is what I came up with.

5 Signs that you are now entering Adultsville:

1. Bills. Gone are the days of blissful ignorance as to how the lights stayed on at home or the hot water kept running. Now those infuriating little statements just keep slipping through the mail slot. Phone bill, gas bill, waterworks, eating away at your paycheck- your new pair of shoes! It was a lot more fun when you had an allowance.

2. Your parents are asking you to drive them places. You thought it was your ticket to freedom when you got your license, huh? Wink, wink. Mom and Dad were just waiting for the day when they wouldn’t have to take you anywhere and you could start chauffeuring them around. Now it’s, “Honey, can you take me to the doctor’s on Monday?” and, “Oh, could you stop by the grocery store after work and pick some things up for me?” Don’t forget doing someone else’s errands: “Your sister’s done with soccer practice at 6.” Some kind of freedom. Read More »