A presentation by the American Psychological Association on college drinking recently released some statistics that may make you spit our your beer: 1. College students intend to drink to get drunk, and 2. College students use alcohol as an excuse for hooking up. Yeah. When I said you were going to spit out your beer, I meant because you’d be laughing with me.

If you ask any frat boy at a party he’d probably have told you these shocking findings, while saving money on the research. He might also then go and give one of his bros a big hug, saying “I love you man,” behaviour if questioned on, he would likely blame on the alcohol. Because, as Jamie Foxx has figured out, it’s pretty easy to blame it on the alcohol. Which college students inevitably do. So, in case the American Psychological Association wants to save some money next time, here’s eight more things college students blame on the alcohol.

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[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!]

It’s safe to say that my New Year’s Eve celebration got way out of control this year.

This year my college friends and I decided to go all out for the night. It’s our last year of college and we barely even talk to our home friends anymore, so it made perfect sense that we have a mid-break reunion in the big city. One of my friend’s aunt lives in NYC and she offered up her apartment for the weekend while she was away skiing with her family.

While we spent hours online figuring out travel arrangements and outfit choices, we never got around to actually planning our night. So when the clock start ticking on the 31st we had to go with the only thing we knew was actually happening. A friend of a friend of a cousin of a roommate of a Craigslist killer of a friend was throwing a party in his apartment and told us we were more than welcome to come. We’ve watched Sex and the City so we thought we knew what we were in for — a gorgeous, spacious apartment overflowing with booze and horny well-dressed men.

But when we got there, we immediately realized that we were completely wrong. The apartment was the size of my closet and all the glamorous guests (all 5 of them) were sitting on the couch ripping shots of Barton’s vodka. With our heels and clutches and booze-ready bodies ready to go, we realized that we had made a big mistake. So we did what any classy ladies would do. Took several shots extremely quickly and bounced. It was rude and uncouth and I would be embarrassed if that was the only that that happened during the entire night.

It wasn’t.

We got into a cab and told the driver to take us to his favorite bar in the city. He dropped us off on a sketchy street filled with dive bars and grunge music. Without any other options, we chose one randomly, went in, and start pounding back more drinks. My camera tells me I hooked up at midnight. My memory tells me he said he was 23. My friends tell me he very clearly said he was 33.

Next thing I remember is the bartender being all over me. I do, very unfortunatley, remember loving it. I felt chic and cool and so worldly getting all my friends free shots while the bartender and I played kissy face.

Then like a flash (yeah my memory is in flashes at this point) the bartender took me into the back of the bar, out of my friends’ eyesight, and made me touch his penis. Even in my drunken state I knew I didn’t want to do this so I pushed him away — and proceed to projectile vomit all over him and the bar. He went from lovey-dovey to “get out of my bar!” faster than I could round-up my friends and explain what happened.

We jumped into a cab and didn’t get more than a few blocks before my friend start yakking all over the  backseat. Luckily the driver only charged us A MILLION DOLLARS for the ride to get it cleaned up.

Thinking that all the excitement and disgusting behavior was done for the night, we got into our pajamas, and went to bed. As I drifted to sleep, I could hear my friend, sleeping upright in a chair” making weird “tsk” noises in her sleep. Precious, I thought.

Woke up the next morning and realized that those “tsk” noises were actually “I’m throwing up everywhere in this room” noises. There was barf everywhere. Beds, couch, chairs, wall. It was a disaster. And my friend who’s aunt lived there started (understandably) freaking out.

Without any other options but to get to work, we raided the cleaning closet and scrubbed the room down for hours. When we were done, it looked almost like new, and it seemed like a Febreeze factory. And this was all while I was completely hungover. And too broke (thank you cab fare) to even get breakfast.

Hands down, worst night of my life.

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

[Everyone’s got a morning after story (though some are WAY worse than others) and we wanna hear yours! Send it over to us and we’ll post it – anonymously, of course – right here!]

I am currently studying abroad in an unspecified location in the world. We’ll just say… not in the U.S. (really narrowing it down there). My host university always organizes events at bars and such for students, but my roommates and I usually just pass on them because they just wind up being these huge all-American fests. But the other night we actually decided to go because this particular bar, in the red-light district, was serving unlimited free wine and beer between 9 p.m. and 10 p.m. and, honestly, who could pass that up?

We did our usual pregame before the bar and all 4 out of my 4 roommates wound up getting wasted. Literally, couldn’t stand up, needed-to-borrow-the-flip-flops-I-conveniently-had-in-my-purse wasted. Mind you, it was only around 8 p.m. We hadn’t even left the house and I was already fully concerned about my roommates’ well-being, mainly because bouncers in this particular city are extremely strict with blatantly belligerent people trying to enter into their clubs (I wonder why…).

But I was worrying for nothing. Somehow all of us managed to get let in and the real (free) drinking quickly began. After we all scurried over to the bar to grab some drinks I wound up chatting it up with an adorable American guy for a really long time while all my roommates disappeared into another adjacent room. I wasn’t too worried though; it was a pretty small place. Only when I finally made my way over there, let’s say around 9:30 p.m., 2 out of the 4 girls were missing.

The 2 girls I actually found (we’ll call them Christine and Ally) were pretty much too drunk to notice/care that the other 2 girls (Kaitlin and Jane) had vanished and were nowhere to be found. Soon after, Christine started making out with some short, relatively unattractive man (something extremely uncharacteristic of her) and Ally was on the dance floor with some guy.

I tried to awkwardly interfere and bother them a couple times about our lost roommates, but they just kind of told me to not worry about it. So, I went to find a quiet spot in the bar to call Jane, one of the MIAs. After I talked to her, I found out she decided to just up and leave for home without telling any of us. I kind of thought she sounded a bit strange because she wasn’t responding to most of my questions, but I (wrongly) assumed I just woke her. Ally then frantically grabbed me and told me we needed to leave because she just got a call from a nearby police station that said they were with our other lost roommate, Kaitlin.

I somehow pried Christine away from her man and the two of us wound up waiting up against this pillar in the bar while Ally quickly ran to the bathroom. I then noticed Christine’s eyes were kind of closing and she appeared to be taking a bit of a nap. The security guards were apparently not big fans of this kind of behavior because they kindly escorted her out of the bar. I obviously followed closely behind.

Once Ally met us outside, we took a cab to the police station, where we were told that the cops had already taken Kaitlin home.

So we grabbed a cab back to our apartment. Everything was going just fine until I felt a few wet drops hit me on both my neck and chest. At first, I assumed it was just rain or something (even though the windows weren’t open. I was full of all sorts of interesting assumptions that night). But then I saw Ally put her hand on Christine’s back as she opened the window.

Between that and the rancid smell, what was really going on was becoming all too clear.

The cab driver was surprisingly pretty cool at first and didn’t seem to mind that there was literally puke all over his backseat. Ally and Christine were also covered in quite a decent amount of it as well. Having just been splattered, I guess I lucked out. But as he finally realized what was going on, the cabbie mumbled something about a “cleaning fee for our troubles” and hiked the meter up to EIGHTY DOLLARS.

We all got out and were making our way down the street towards our apartment when Christine decided to just take her puke-covered dress off in public. She walked into our apartment complex in nothing but a bra and some lacy underwear. Fine, I guess; it was late and no one was awake to see the show. Only when we got to our floor, the elevator doors opened up to who else but two (fairly young, attractive) cops.

“What are you covered in?” They asked, eyes darting back and forth from my nearly-naked roommate to my covered in red-wine puke roommate.

I casually pushed Ally and Christine towards the direction of our apartment (while managing to get my hand covered in puke from Ally’s back) to try to keep us all out of any more trouble. I did my best to ignore my disgust and sweet talk the officers by saying something like, “Oh, you know. We’re fine! Long night. Uh… I’ll take care of them. Thanks for everything! Have a goodnight!”

We finally got into our apartment. There was glass shattered all over the floor leading to my bathroom and very few lights on (we later discovered this was Jane’s drunken doing). I took a peak into my bathroom and found Jane hovering over the toilet bowl while Kaitlin was safely tucked away in bed, courtesy of the fine police.

It was 11:15 p.m.

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

Flash forward to now, and I still want to take care of him. Everything from helping him with his laundry to more serious stuff like going to therapy. Matt and I have been through a lot of tough times, and I’m glad to say that we’re still together and still going strong. We have our weak moments just like everyone else, but one of the true signs of a real relationship is staying with each other through the bad times, not just the good. Anybody can go with you to the party, but a man who really loves you will hold your hair while you’re puking.

Relationships have to be built on trust and love, and if that’s not there, then someone in the relationship is bound to be unhappy. You should want to be each other’s strengths when the other seems to be running out. You should want to lean on the other person when you can’t go it alone. And there’s nothing better than knowing you’ve got all of that if you ever need it.

If I didn’t have Matt around I’d probably have been a mess when my parents moved across the country. But no matter how much I miss them, it’s hard to feel like my family left me when I have him around.

I just know that no matter what it is, I will be there for him and he’ll be there for me. If he has to take a pill every day for the rest of his life, I’ll be there with a glass of water. If it gets to the point where we want to start a family I know he’ll be in the delivery room with me while I’m screaming my head off (and probably yelling at him for doing that to me).  I love him and I’ll do just about anything to keep him healthy and happy. When you are in a relationship, it really shows your partner’s character when they stick with you during the really crappy times. It’s nice to not to have to go through the hard days alone.

We all come into college fearing that we won’t make a single friend our freshman year. So I patted myself on the back when I found a group of girlfriends that I fit in with right away. But I realized that these were new friends and could change their mind about me at any minute with no remorse, so I was always sure to be on my best behavior.

One night, we had all gone to dinner at our on-campus bar and restaurant. We were with a few older guys and they were sneaking us beer after beer, and it wasn’t long before I realized that I was three sheets (and 6 beers) to the wind. Doing my best to hold my ground and act like I wasn’t starting to feel that buffalo chicken sandwich churning in my stomach, my friends were surprised when I asked them to accompany me to the bathroom with a look of urgency in my eyes.

Three of us gathered around the tiny stall as I proceeded to barf up my entire meal and then some. They followed the standard friend protocol, holding my hair back and rubbing my back. Little did they know what they were about to witness.

I had flushed the toilet for a final time, and my friends breathed a sigh of relief, hoping the worst was over. My one friend was about to run back to the restaurant and get me a glass of water but was stopped dead in her tracks when she saw my next drunken move. Without a second thought, I had scooped my hand into the toilet bowl and begun cupping the water into my mouth. Yes, I was chugging toilet water.

They all started gagging and screaming at me to stop, but I insisted that it was OK because: “I do this all time. All my friends drink from the toilet at home!” So they let me quench my thirst right there at the porcelain toilet, cleaned me up and took me home.

The next morning, they replayed the entire scenario for me as I was a little hazy on the night’s events. I was appalled. Sadly enough, I have no idea why I said I drink toilet water all the time. To the best of my knowledge, I stick pretty religiously to the Brita and have never desired a cold glass of fresh toilet bowl water.

So on that fateful morning, I not only had to fear that my newfound friends were going to erase my number from their phonebooks, but I also had to face facts that there’s a possibility I have been drinking from the toilet while blacked-out for years now. Devastating.