The week from hell is finally over. Three exams, a paper and a group presentation (though “group” is a loose term since you pretty much did the entire thing) down, now 5 shots and a few hours of dancing to go.

You are exhausted, but also ready to grab a bottle of Boones Farm and get this party started. You head home, load up on the carbs and get ready for a night of post-hell celebration with the girls.

Being that you spent every waking moment (and there were a lot of them) of the last week in sweats, you want to doll it up for tonight: tight jeans, low-cut cami and the highest of heels that you’ve got. You don’t say this often, but you look good. Really good.

You head to the kitchen where you “eyeball” a shot – or 2 – into a glass, fill it with your mixer of choice and mix it all together with whatever is closest: a knife, your finger…. Pretty soon the rest of your friends are ready to go and you head off into the night. Read More »

It’s 9:30 PM on a glorious Thursday evening. You are anxiously anticipating the start of Thirsty Thursday…until your roomie calls to tell you pregame’s at 10! You haul ass home from yoga-lates, scrub yourself in the shower, and shun your razor—baby smooth legs will have to wait for a less time-crunched evening. You barely have enough time to swipe on some mascara and, lord knows, your hair is air drying (embrace the wave).

You throw open your closet, throw on the first cute top you see and wear your butt jeans and sex kitten heels to compensate. You dash downstairs to join in on the Franzia fueled festivities and are greeted by a friend.

“Aw, don’t you look…comfortable?!”

Excuse moi? Comfortable? You weren’t thinking that exactly…just casual. But no – you have now been lumped into that category: you’re the girl who’s dressed down for the bar. Let us explore the positives and negatives of this conundrum.

Pro: Your feet are feeling mighty fine and you’re on your 8th rendition of the “Come On, Ride the Train.” Envious girls stare at you from their perches on bar stools—anything to get them off those blistering platforms. You enjoy the company of many a’ inebriated fella as they embrace your carefree love of dancing (read: drunken spinning and arm movements.) And while homegirl is teetering around on her 4 inchers trying not to slip in bar slime, you and your comfy arches make record time to the front of the line when it’s time to re up.

Con: As Mr. Cheeks would say, “Them high heels got them calves lookin’ right too!” Heels do have that magic ‘lift and strut’ factor, which is incredibly hard to imitate in flats…let alone under the influence of Irish Car Bombs. You will also be dwarfed by men and women alike, so don’t get separated from your girls; it might be a while until you reunite on line for the bathroom. Additionally, you might wake up the next morning with a case of stiletto toe: some girls just don’t watch (or care) who’s feet they step on, and your pedi will be the one to suffer. Read More »

[Click HERE to read the first installment. Seriously…it’s worth it…)

After he walked me to the door of his apartment, I was left to walk of shame it on home. Which was about seventy blocks away. The problem with this building was, I couldn’t navigate it. And so wound up getting off on the wrong floor and taking the first exit I found, trying to leave gracefully.

As soon as I left the elevator, I realized that this was not the right way out. To the doors I went anyway, but then… Click. I was locked in the vestibule. Too late. I sighed and opened the main door to go into a courtyard. Fine. I could see the street beyond the other apartment buildings in the complex.

But why was there a construction barricade in the way of the stairs? Read More »