Giving up my nights out was not something I was especially prepared to do when I started scouring my college town for a job; who wants to be folding clothes amidst an asthma-inducing Abercrombie cologne cloud late into the evening when your girls are out at $1 pitcher night? Nobody.

That’s why I became a cocktail waitress.

Well, that and I heard Tiger Woods George Clooney was fond of them.

Naturally, I see a lot of…er… interesting, for lack of a better word, things during the late night shifts. Things that I know I’ve been guilty of doing, and that all you CC ladies are probably guilty of as well. Believe me, your signature twist+bend and snap combo dance moves do not look as sexy as you think, even if that drunk frat boy tells you they are. And as good as Journey is, “Don’t Stop Believing” is not “the best song of all effing time!!”

Because our thoughts tend to be a little muddled when we’re a few sheets to the stale bar air wind, I thought I’d help everyone see just what a typical drunken night is from a more honest (read: sober) perspective. So join me as we analyze things (hey, we’re all friends here!) from both sides of the crowded bar.

Your Point of View: It’s 11:00pm and you and your friends raced into the bar in 5 inch heels because it’s winter in the Midwest and coats are a pain in the buttcheeks to carry around. The warm air inside brings out a sigh of the relief.

My Point of View: GIRL you must be KIDDING. IT’S WINTER IN THE MIDWEST! Except I’ll tell you that I never wear coats out either and no, your nose isn’t running that bad! Oh, and that happy sigh you made when feeling came back to your fingers sounded more like a cross between the sound I make when I see spider (EEEE!) and when I see a hot Mexican with a beard (ughhh YES).

Your POV: Shots! Shots! Shots! Shotshotshots! I LOVE shots and I LOVE this song!

My POV: I would literally be a millionaire if I got a dollar every time someone ordered shots from me in that manner. A billionaire if I got an additional dollar every time people sang that just to get my attention and then order something completely different.

Your POV: Cutie alert at  ‘clock! Take a quick selfie to see if you’re still looking as hot as you were when you left.

My POV: Much like how a car loses value when you drive it off the lot, all of the effort you put into looking good starts to depreciate when you walk in the bar. There’s no way around it. It’s going to be hot, you’re going to sweat, your perfect hair poof is going to fall flat (unless you’re Snooki, of course), and drinks are going to fall on you. Let’s just all take a second and give thanks to the very forgiving bar lighting.

Your POV: Yes, 4 0′clock cutie noticed you. He walks over, says he remembers you from class, and buys you a drink. Things are going great, so great that you invite him on the dance floor. And if his moves are good (and he buys you a few more rum and diets), maybe you’ll invite him back to your apartment.

My POV: First off, he does not remember you from class. He just chose a random gen ed, like Elementary Psych, because it has 500+ people in the lecture and there was a good chance you took it too. Second, his moves are def not good, but in the back of your head you knew it didn’t matter anyway. Third, men aren’t always good to you, but burritos always are. If he won’t offer to pay for your drunchies after all those drinks he handed out, don’t take him anywhere near your abode.

Your POV: Bartender yells “Last call!” and you get a huge group hug going to tell your girls how much you love them and how you all need to get together again next weekend. You talk afties and Pokey Stix when suddenly all of the lights go on. And suddenly 4 0′clock cutie isn’t looking too good.

My POV: This is by far the best part of my night. Since drink orders are done, it’s my chance to sit back, relax, take a shot with the bartender, and admire all that is going on around me. The look of horror that come over faces as soon as the lights turn on is priceless; just when you thought you were surrounded by hotties in a hip night club, you realize that theses “hotties” are covered in pit stains and your fake tan is running down your face. And that “hip night club” is just a dirty, windowless basement. With dirty bathroom water on the floor.

What a great way to end the night. Now it’s time for me to head home and enjoy my Jimmy Johns #12 with Say Yes to the Dress on DVR.

[This post was originally written by Kelly - University of Iowa.]

Unfortunately my required outfit is less extravagant

Giving up my nights out was not something I was especially prepared to do when I started scouring my college town for a job; who wants to be folding clothes amidst an asthma-inducing Abercrombie cologne cloud late into the evening when your girls are out at $1 pitcher night? Nobody.

That’s why I became a cocktail waitress.

Well, that and I heard Tiger Woods George Clooney was fond of them.

Naturally, I see a lot of…er… interesting, for lack of a better word, things during the late night shifts. Things that I know I’ve been guilty of doing, and that all you CC ladies are probably guilty of, as well. Believe me, your signature twist+bend and snap combo dance moves do not look as sexy as you think, even if that drunk frat boy tells you they are. And as good as Journey is, “Don’t Stop Believing” is not “the best song of all effing time!!”

Because our thoughts tend to be a little muddled when we’re a few sheets to the stale bar air wind, I thought I’d help everyone see just what a typical drunken night is from a more honest (read: sober) perspective. So join me as we analyze things (hey, we’re all friends here!) from both sides of the crowded bar.

Your Point of View: It’s 11:00pm and you and your friends raced into the bar in 5 inch heels because it’s winter in the Midwest and coats are a pain in the buttcheeks to carry around. The warm air inside brings out a sigh of the relief.

My Point of View: GIRL you must be KIDDING. IT’S WINTER IN THE MIDWEST! Except I’ll tell you that I never wear coats out either and no, your nose isn’t running that bad! Oh, and that happy sigh you made when feeling came back to your fingers sounded more like a cross between the sound I make when I see spider (EEEE!) and when I see a hot Mexican with a beard (ughhhYES).

Your POV: Shots! Shots! Shots! Shotshotshots! I LOVE shots and I LOVE this song!

My POV: I would literally be a millionaire if I got a dollar every time someone ordered shots from me in that manner. A billionaire if I got an additional dollar every time people sang that just to get my attention and then order something completely different.

Your POV: Cutie alert at  ‘clock! Take a quick selfie to see if you’re still looking as hot as you were when you left.

My POV: Much like how a car loses value when you drive it off the lot, all of the effort you put into looking good starts to depreciate when you walk in the bar. There’s no way around it. It’s going to be hot, you’re going to sweat, your perfect hair poof is going to fall flat (unless you’re Snookie, of course), and drinks are going to fall on you. Let’s just all take a second and give thanks to the very forgiving bar lighting.

Your POV: Yes, 4 0′clock cutie noticed you. He walks over, says he remembers you from class, and buys you a drink. Things are going great, so great that you invite him on the dance floor. And if his moves are good (and he buys you a few more rum and diets), maybe you’ll invite him back to your apartment.

My POV: First off, he does not remember you from class. He just chose a random gen ed, like Elementary Psych, because it has 500+ people in the lecture and there was a good chance you took it too. Second, his moves are def not good, but in the back of your head you knew it didn’t matter anyway. Third, men aren’t always good to you, but burritos always are. If he won’t offer to pay for your drunchies after all those drinks he handed out, don’t take him anywhere near your abode.

Your POV: Bartender yells “Last call!” and you get a huge group hug going to tell your girls how much you love them and how you all need to get together again next weekend. You talk afties and Pokey Stix when suddenly all of the lights go on. And suddenly 4 0′clock cutie isn’t looking too good.

My POV: This is by far the best part of my night. Since drink orders are done, it’s my chance to sit back, relax, take a shot with the bartender, and admire all that is going on around me. The look of horror that come over faces as soon as the lights turn on is priceless; just when you thought you were surrounded by hotties in a hip night club, you realize that theses “hotties” are covered in pit stains and your fake tan is running down your face. And that “hip night club” is just a dirty, windowless basement. With dirty bathroom water on the floor.

What a great way to end the night. Now it’s time for me to head home and enjoy my Jimmy Johns #12 with Say Yes to the Dress on DVR.

Easy on the soda water, homegirl.

A couple of days ago three bars at Penn State were fined for “lack of alcohol training.”

What?!

What exactly were those bartenders doing wrong to piss off the authorities? How hard is it to open a bottle of Bud Light or mix vodka and tonic together? It’s not like us college kids are ordering difficult drinks like mudslides and daiquiris at the bar. I think I speak for all of us when I say the only qualities I’m looking for in a bartender are speed and a heavy hand (well, the hand that’s holding the booze). And if they’re a bit slow at math and can’t add my tab correctly, that’s OK too.

The thing is, bartender experience is the least important offense when it comes to college bars. There are far more pressing and disturbing issues that should be addressed. And fined. And fixed!

The Line
I don’t mind waiting in line if the bar is hopping – I’ll just sip my 40 while I wait – but making people stand in line when the bar is empty only to make it look cooler? That should be illegal.

Watered Down Drinks
I did not pay $7 for soda on ice; if I wanted that I would go to the McDonalds down the street and get unlimited refills for a dollar. If I order a Cran-Vodka, I want it to sting as it goes down, not taste like I could put in my 3 year old cousin’s sippy-cup. So stop filling my mini-cup with ice to make me think I’m getting more booze and tip that bottle in there. I’m paying you more for this one drink than a full bottle at the liquor store so stop being so damn stingy.

Bathroom Mayhem
How can the girl’s bathroom look like a hurricane went through it an hour after the bar opens? There are paper towels everywhere, toilets are clogged and overflowing (with god knows what) and there is some unidentifiable sticky substance covering the floor. Can we maybe run a mop through this sucker? A vomit covered bathroom at 4 am? Understandable. Being in this state at 9:30 when we’ve only had time to down three watered-down drinks and are coherent enough to gag at the stench? Not cool.

Show Tunes
There is a certain time when playing “You’re The One That I Want” and “Dancing Queen” becomes acceptable. By 1 am we have had enough to drink that we will dance to absolutely anything, hugging our friends and singing at the top of our lungs. This, however, is not the case at 10 pm. At this time playing show tunes takes us back to those awkward Sweet 16′s where everyone stood in clumps, swaying on the dance floor, not wanting to look stupid in front of the gorgeous guy from class. Help us out a little and play some hip-hop, would ya? We might actually have a chance of looking sexy and luring in a hookup if we have a beat to shake our ass to.

Last Call
If the bar is closing at 2, then a 1:30 last call is acceptable. What is not acceptable is turning on the lights at 1:40 when there is clearly twenty more minutes for me to hunt down my evening prey. How am I supposed to rope in a boy when he can see the makeup melting off my face and my hair plastered to my forehead? Be a dear and leave the lights off, please. I just dropped $30 on soda water with a splash of vodka, so it’s really the least you can do.

What else do bars do that have you guys wishing you could call the authorities?

With no further ado, the top ten songs I personally can’t help but sing. In no particular order, let’s start with the obvious:

1. Don’t Stop Believing by Journey

Hold on to that feeling…

It’s inevitable. The bar will close, the party will end, and to signify the bittersweet ending of yet another great college night

2. Sweet Caroline (ba ba ba…) by Neil Diamond

So good, so good, so good!

Definitely should be reserved for last call, but still proves to be a favorite you can’t resist.

3. You Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC

Cause the walls were shakin, the earth was quakin’, my mind was achin’, and we were makin’ it and you…

It requires a fist-pump. And that may be why I love it.

4. Living on a Prayer by Bon Jovi

We’ve got each other and that’s a lot/ For love, we’ll give it a shot.. Ohhhhhhh….

Yeah. You maybe just started singing right now, I saw that.

5. Take Me Home Tonight by Eddie Money

I can hear you breathe, I can feel your heart beating faster (faster)…

A great song…and a great pick up line.

6. American Pie by Don McLean

Bye, bye Miss American Pie, drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry…

The chorus is just phenomenal. Possibly the definition of an oldie but a goodie.

7. Since You’ve Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson

I’m so movin’ onnnn, yeah, yeah…

Guys definitely love this song at LEAST as much as we do, don’t be fooled. It’s just a good jam in general, especially if you’ve got any angst toward a recent ex or current significant other debacle…

8. Build Me Up Buttercup by The Foundations

So build me up (build me up) Buttercup, don’t break my heart…

This one even gets you bopping around on a make-shift dancefloor. You can’t deny the greatness of Motown crooning.

9. The Piano Man by Billy Joel

Well we’re all in the mood for a melody, and you’ve got us feelin’ alright…

Don’t you wish you could play the piano and observe people on the job? At least you can sing about it…

10. Pour Some Sugar on Me by Def Leppard

I’m hot, sticky sweet/ From my head, to my feet, yeah…

I’m not going to try and say Def Leppard is good. I’m not going to sell it as a good song. But you can’t deny that you know the chorus, and you really can’t help but chime in when it’s on.

Did I miss any favorites? Let us know what made your own top ten!

[photo courtesy of www.a-1entertainment.com]

His Place

Pro: You don’t have to worry about the pile of dirty laundry on your bedroom floor.

Con: You have no idea if he has to worry about the pile of dirty laundry on his bedroom floor.

Your Place

Pro: You can easily access your toothbrush and contact lens solution.

Con: He can easily access all of the secrets of your medicine cabinet.

His Place

Pro: You don’t have to worry about waking up/sexiling your roommate.

Con: You have to worry about his roommates.

Your Place

Pro: You won’t have to take a walk of shame in the morning.

Con: You risk your entire floor seeing him leave your room.

His Place

Pro: You can sidestep the awkward morning-after moment by creeping out of the room.

Con: If he doesn’t live within walking distance, you’re going to have to rouse him for a potentially awkward drive home.

Your Place

Pro: You can sleep better in your own bed.

Con: You have to wait for him to wake up, and then politely kick him out the next morning.

His Place

Pro: He has to entertain you with the facade of the pre-hook-up movie and a few icebreaking drinks.

Con: He might NOT entertain you with the facade of the pre-hook-up movie and a few icebreaking drinks.

Your Place

Pro: You know the layout, so you won’t bump into the wall on the way to the bathroom, or accidentally stumble into his roommate’s room.

Con: Now he knows where you live.

Depending on the guy you’re with, either scenario is win or lose. If your place is closer and neither of you are under the driving limit, it’s definitely worth hitting up your own place, no matter how many pairs of dirty underwear you have strewn throughout your room. If you share a bunkbed with another girl, it’s obvious that you should be scouting out a different place to hook up. And if you’re not comfortable letting him know where you live, or being brought to an unfamiliar place, perhaps it’s in your best interest to exchange numbers and continue your tryst soberly, and in daylight.

Carson Daly has committed the ultimate crime: resuming production on Last Call with Carson Daly.Daly has also defied the ongoing writer’s strike – but that’s hardly his biggest offense.

Does anybody really watch Last Call with Carson Daly? It’s on at some ungodly hour next to weight-loss and fly-fishing gear infomercials…and since when did Daly become a source of comedy? The show has been on the air since 2002 and I still don’t know one soul who watches it.

Since his writing staff is M.I.A. Daly has solicited outside help from family and friends, asking them in an email to submit him jokes that will be used in an upcoming skit.

Call Carson Daly’s joke hotline (818-260-5107) and leave the stupidest knee-slapper you can muster – no matter how bad the joke is, it can’t be any worse of a joke than his career has become.