[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!]

I had the busiest semester ever in my college career because some genius (read: my idiot self) decided it was a good idea to take 18 hours.  And work.  And hold an officer position in my sorority.  Terrible idea in hindsight.

So needless to say, I rarely went out due to my hectic schedule.  Plus whenever I got home at the end of the day or when I had spare time, I wanted to spend it doing nothing and sleeping.  The weekends were a prime opportunity to rest for half a day before I had to start doing homework and writing papers for my classes.  But those few times I managed to go out, I made it count.  I really made it count.  Especially at my sorority’s last hurrah, the Tacky Christmas party.

If you don’t know what Tacky Christmas is then shame on you.  Basically everyone wears tacky sweaters that your grandma made you or wrapping paper dresses, or if you don’t celebrate Christmas, you put a Menorah crafted from pipe cleaners on your head.  I opted for a gigantic gift bag from Target, while my ex dressed up as a little kid on Christmas.  Oh yeah, did I mention I took my ex as my date?  Well, I did.  Don’t judge me.

Anyway, I figured as it was my last night out with my friends before finals, I should make the most of it.  The ex and I arrived at a pre-game that evolved into a full blown rager before we even made it to the bar.  Not only did I take an unknown number of peppermint patty shots (soooo good!), but I also finished a bottle of crappy champagne by myself.  I weigh 100 pounds, and hardly drank this semester.  You do the math.

We eventually got everyone to migrate to the bar, which was a terribly difficult task since we were having much more fun at the pre-party.  I was expecting to get big black X’s on my hands that night, but one of my friends happened to be working the door at the bar and gave beautiful, shiny wristbands to my ex and I.  Well, I successfully closed my tab after one beer.  See that?  I was responsible.  But then I stole the ex’s pitcher and drank half of it.

I don’t remember dancing on stage with the rapper.  Or grinding in my gift bag.  Or going home.  But from what I was told here’s what happened:

The ex drove me home and was going to stay with me to make sure I saw the next day (so sweet).   When we got to my apartment complex, I decided that I didn’t live on the first floor and ran away.  I hid under a stairwell for about ten minutes, and then I continued my adventure up to the third floor where two random guys were cheering me on as the ex chased me down.  Finally, he managed to catch me and carry me back to my apartment.  My roommate was still awake, which was good because I did everything she said and refused to listen to the ex.

After getting me into my pajamas, they tried to give me water.

me: “NO! It’s a Horcrux!”

ex: “What?!”

me: “It’s a Horcrux! You have to destroy it! Unless you’re Lord Voldemort…”

ex: “Babe, it’s not a Horcrux. Drink your water.”

me: “Obliviate!”

I don’t remember this conversation but since two out of three people do, I’ll accept it.  Apparently I continued to cast spells and begged for my roommate’s wand.  She decided I’d poke my eye out and told me it was at Olivander’s for repairs.  I was very upset about that.

Eventually, I got sick, drank the Horcrux water after it was destroyed, went to sleep, and had wonderful dreams that I was Harry Potter.

[You think that's bad? Check out our other cringe-worthy Morning After stories.]

[Everyone’s got a morning after story (though I can say with absolute certainty that not everyone's includes a private plane and handcuffs) and we wanna hear yours! Send it over to us and we’ll post it – anonymously, of course – right here!]

Last weekend I went to my friend’s birthday at one of those exclusive NYC clubs where you can’t get in if you’re not on a list. My friends and I got decked out for a big night on the town, which meant I put on a really short dress, slipped on my big practically-unwalkable heels, and shaved my legs. At first everything at the club was really fun and really trendy and really vodka-y. I was dancing on the tables and shamelessly hitting on guys. But that’s what happens when you’re drinking for free.

You know what also happens when you’re drinking for free? People lose their inhibitions as well as their dignity. One couple went from grinding on the dancing floor to humping on a booth. And while they were humping another couple edged into our corner and started getting busy. It didn’t take long before both girls were straddling the guys with their dresses pulled up and their underwear pushed down. While I can’t say that I saw actual intercourse (hard to see things when you’re shielding your eyes), I did see fingers going places fingers do not belong when those fingers are in public. One of the tables began shaking so hard that a waiter came over.  However I wrongly assumed that the waiter would stop the couple. Instead he just removed the glasses off the table so that there would be not broken glass when they started going at it on the floor. It’s at this point I started asking myself what was going on and what was I doing there. Read More »

I remember my college graduation like it was yesterday. After a group of my friends threw an open bar graduation party for family and friends the night before, I woke up graduation morning hungover, naked and confused about  my whereabouts. I rolled over to find myself lying next to the first college friend I made at orientation.

“Fitting,” I thought to myself. Then I grabbed my clothes (all but one shoe…which I told myself I could live without) and ran out the door. If I didn’t get home soon, I would be late for graduation.

I hailed a cab on the corner of the street and hopped in. On the short ride back to my house, I passed families all dressed up for the great moment that was their son/daughter/grandchild/cousin/brother/sister’s graduation. I looked down at the clothes I wore the night before and the unidentified scars that can only come from a night of heavy drinking on someone else’s tab.

“Fitting,” I thought to myself again. Read More »

Dear Engaged Friends,

So, congratulations! Have you picked a date? Done the dress shopping? Gone cake tasting? Picked the esteemed members of your bridal party? Great! So if we could take a minute to shift the focus over to me? Yeah.

You’re freaking me out.

Early, early, early 20s are not a time when the general “you” should be worried about marriage, especially when I can’t even decide whether I want to go to grad school or work or what. And yet, you’re kind of making me think I should be worried. I mean, isn’t everybody in the dating game right now, yourselves excluded? Aren’t most pople our age single? Don’t you know that marriage is supposed to be forever and divorces are really expensive and, frankly, so are weddings (especially on the east coast—eep)?

And also, are you going to get all judgy all of a sudden? I’m still the delinquent “single friend” who can’t land a boyfriend for more than a couple months at a shot, I have no life direction as yet (but we’re hoping, any day now, for an epiphany)… Are you going to keep giving me that “I’m judging you without trying to seem that way” look while continually asking how my dating life is going? Because I can tell you already: I’m really not going to meet anyone anytime soon. I’m pretty sure I’m bad at the dating game and I probably can’t even find someone to commit to being my date at your wedding to keep me from looking as alone and pathetic as I apparently am…

No, it’s fine. I’ll be at the bar, don’t worry about it.

Wait; you are having an open bar, aren’t you? Read More »

Hangovers blow.  Depending on how much you drink the night before, they can either blow just a little, or blow so hard they put Gustav to shame.  Hangovers also make most of us decide we will never drink again — at least until they’re giving out free shots with a school ID at our favorite local college bar.

The third thing hangovers do?  Propel us toward every unhealthy food that has ever been invented.

Read More »

Like any good twenty-something, I’m on several random email lists, usually of the happy hour variety. When one of my favorite haunts in lower Manhattan emailed me about an open bar next Monday, I did a cartoon-style double-take.

Not because I’m that excited about an open bar, but because in the subject line, this one was exclusively for supporters of Barack Obama.

I opened said email instead of deleting immediately and read that the “suggested donation” was $25 per person, but more would be greatly appreciated, and that the proceeds would go directly to Obama’s campaign.

Maybe I should’ve been disgusted. Instead, I was intrigued. A politician’s supporters realize a great way to get the twenty-to-thirty demographic to donate… give them booze in exchange for the donation. Unlimited alcohol—and sushi!—for four hours, even.

Considering drinks are between $7 and $10 apiece in the city, and sushi will cost you at least $5 a roll-order… why, you’ve got dinner and a buzz in the name of being politically active. Read More »

After just returning home from my older brother’s wedding over the weekend, I am feeling the physical repercussions, which can only mean I had a kick-ass time: two tired feet, a bunch of sore muscles and one hell of a hangover. And get this: I didn’t even have a date.

Being that this was my first real wedding experience and I was a bridesmaid, I got to see what really goes on behind the scenes of a twenty-something wedding. I realized many things about love and relationships and the craziness that is planning for such an occasion.

Weddings are special because they allow you to bond with family, as you all witness together, the bond between husband and wife become sacred and, hopefully, one that actually sticks in the end.

But I was already aware of that mushy stuff much going into it, and, sure, I wanted to bring along my own special someone to share it with.What I didn’t know is just how much weddings make for fabulous places to party, meet members of the opposite sex and opportunities to better appreciate life as a single girl! Woohooo! Let’s make some memories, people. Read More »