"12 more hours of this? I can handle it. I'm sotally tober..."

You’ve got a big day planned: early morning breakfast, football pre-party, football game, then out on the town with your homies.  18 hours of boozing? Psssssh. It may sound like a lot, but you’ve been training for a day like this since you stepped foot on campus.

You set your alarm for 7 a.m. then run around the house screaming at your roommates to get out of bed.

“It’s party time! Get up!” You turn on all the lights, bump your iTunes and head down to the kitchen for a power breakfast. You search for the carbiest things you can find, then shove a half frozen bagel into your mouth and wash it down with some OJ, the only non-alcoholic beverage you will have for the day. You don’t have time for chewing; you have an outfit to pick out.

Once your stomach is good and coated you head back to your room to prepare for the day.
Appropriate drinking outfit? Check.
ID? Check.
Camera? Check.
Small flask that fits into your purse but can still get past campus security? Cheeeck.

You head back downstairs and begin mixing cocktails for the roommates. Slowly, they make their way to the kitchen where you are waiting for them, drinks in hand.

After everyone’s buzz has been kick-started (thanks to your force feeding), you take some much-needed selfies then head out to your pre-game of choice. Once there, the drinks come quickly: shots of Captain’s straight from the bottle, cans of Keystone straight from the funnel, and 2 games of flip cup…all before 10 am.

You’re feeling good, like a rock star.

“I LOVE DAY DRINKING!” You scream. “This party’s goin’ all. night. long!” Read More »

Dear Drunk Girl,

Hi sweetie. Long time no see. I take that back. I saw you last Friday. Same place, same hazy look in your eyes, different black dress that falls down to expose your bra. This one doesn’t have vomit on it… yet! Congratulations.

As much as going out and drinking in college is an integral part of your experience, I don’t think you serenading a fraternity with “Like a Virgin” into your half-empty Smirnoff handle (your makeshift microphone) while balancing on a coffee table is necessarily the right way to spend your Tuesday night.

You were very stylish at the beginning of the night. Your dress hung perfectly, eyelashes were curled, hair was straightened, heels were spotless and your jewelry matched. However, after those three, four or five shots of Patron? That sexy little dress you picked up at the Saks sale is riding up and showing off your embarrassing leopard print boy shorts. The mascara you so diligently applied is now running down your face after your tearful breakdown about how much you “love everyone sooooo much” and “like, can’t wait to have you all as my bridesmaids.” You seem to have more hair in your face than in your ponytail and one of your high heels is nowhere to be found. Check yourself, honey. Read More »

Dearest Sloptart,

As much as I would love to silently judge your drunken mistakes, I can’t help but  laugh it off, talk about you to my friends and hope that I just caught you after you had a horrible week (which is slightly understandable, right?) However, in most cases, I caught you in your element, flashing the party your new bedazzled thong while sloppily trying to climb up on the beer pong table to dance.  Ohh, here we go…

There are a few ways that you can tell you’re “that mess” the entire party is talking about (but you can’t hear because you’re busy screaming the lyrics of “If You Seek Amy”). Read More »