As college students, we are constantly inundated with new knowledge. It can be useful, thought-provoking, or crammed into our head on a Starbucks-fueled binge several hours before an exam. However, very rarely do we question the validity of all this new knowledge (unless you take philosophy classes, then you’ll question away).

That’s where College Candy comes in. We’re not going to debate whether or not the Theory of Relativity actually exists (a disappointment, I know, but I’m a communications major and stopped taking science classes after Baby Bio fresh year). However, we are here to thoroughly investigate the most widespread college knowledge (no, not rhyming): the myth.

This week, I’ve been busy with preparations for my 21^st birthday party on Saturday (FINALLY). Amidst trying to find a free party bus and a hot pink dress right after everyone’s Fall colors came out, I began to stress about the optimal level of intoxication I’m aiming for (somewhere in between taking over the DJ booth and being escorted out of the club). I don’t want to be too drunk, but I know I’ll be surrounded by people trying very hard to get me very wasted. I thought to myself, “Well, I’ll start with a few rounds of shots, then downgrade to flip cup and beer pong to mellow myself out.”

There it is, the golden rule. Liquor before beer and you’re in the clear! The thing is, I know this isn’t true, I knew on my 16^th birthday that this “rule” was BS. The amount of alcohol you drink—not the type and not the order in which you drink it—determines how drunk you get.

But how has this myth persisted for so long if so much scientific evidence proves it’s false? Well, for me at least, personal experience holds much more weight than whatever the people in lab coats have to say. And my personal experience has taught me that beer before liquor almost always leaves me sicker. So why the huge disagreement between the scientists and the drunk people? Let’s examine this logically.

If you start the night out with a shot and a few mixed drinks, you’re well aware that you need to pace yourself (most of the time). You space out your Long Island Iced Teas evenly, or perhaps drink water in between them (OK, I’ve never actually done that). Once the bottles run out, you mosey on over to the keg to enjoy some quality Natty Lite. You continue drinking at the same rate you were before, and spend the rest of the night being witty and charming before making out with that hot lacrosse player you beat at beer pong.

But what if that equation were reversed? Science tells us that you and the lacrosse player still would have been good to go, seeing as how your 12 oz. beer contains the same amount as your 1.5 oz. shot of liquor. Unfortunately for you, the liquor is absorbed much more quickly than the beer (especially if it’s mixed with anything carbonated).

So if you start out filling up your Solo cup every 5 minutes with beer, you’ll probably continue that pace when you switch to mixed drinks…and end up drinking way too much, way too fast. Goodbye #42; the only thing you’ll be kissing tonight is your toilet.

Come Saturday, I will feel free to accept shots from various people at any point in the evening, regardless of how many keg stands I may or may not have already done. The key to my new drinking plan? Have my mom help me keep track of how much I’ve drank (yeah, she’s comin’ to the party!) and switch to water for a while if I feel myself crashing and burning.

The liquor before beer myth is definitely, definitely false, so drink away and in any order (just pace yourself!).

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.

Is that pimply beast of a guy you’re making out with in front of everyone your boyfriend? Hope not, because you just made out with his best friend four minutes ago when you assaulted him against the beer pong table. Yes, beer pong winner is impressive, but it’s not like he just saved a child from a fire. Speaking of, can we talk about your beer pong game? It’s called beer pong for a reason. Not “mass amounts of vodka and a splash of cranberry” pong. When you’ve reached that point where hard liquor in the beer pong cups seems like a good idea, you’ve gone too far.

No, no one wants to split a supreme pizza with you, go to the strip club “just for fun,” drunk dial the Dean’s office or add a rule in any drinking game that involves getting naked. Drunk girl, it’s the middle of the week and don’t you have a final tomorrow? And stop yelling at the poor guy who made your drink – there is plenty of vodka in there and not his fault that you just can’t TASTE it anymore.

I love you, drunk girl. Because, sometimes, I am you. But even when I’m not, I still adore you because I have a great time making fun of you and drawing penises all over you when you pass out on the floor of some random living room amidst a Tila Tequila marathon.

XOXO,
Melanie

Melanie currently interning in NYC, taking full advantage of all margarita specials and those blonde summer boys. Stalk her on Twitter: @tinkermellie

So, let’s bring it all out in the open. Right here. Because you are not alone - we’ve all been there before.]

Hugging the Bowl:

You started the evening out with the girls and a few shots of vodka to the tune of Bon Jovi blaring from the stereo. Then you moved onto the party, where you couldn’t not play 10 rounds of flip cup, followed by a game of beer pong. You were feeling good – really good – so you decided to give into the boys and do a keg stand.

After all, you had to show them what you’re made of.

When your feet are firmly back on the ground it hits you: you are totally f**ked up. The room is spinning, the floor is rocking and all you can think about is getting home and dying.

But you don’t want anyone to think you are a wimp (because you’re not!), so you pull one of the girls aside and whisper, “I’m tired. I think I’m gonna go,” which comes out more like, “I’m <hiccup> tiiiired. I <hiccup> mthink I’mgomna <vurp> go.” Your friend offers to go with you.

You stumble home, run straight to the bathroom and strip down to your bra and underwear. Your friend brings you water in the bathroom as you crouch over the toilet and start spitting into the bowl. Your knees hurt already, but you are not leaving the bathroom until you puke, dammit.

Your head hurts. You feel like hell. You are never EVER drinking again. Please God, you pray, if you let me make it through tonight I will never drink this much again. Please god. PLEASE. I swear. No more alcohol. Ever.

And at that moment, you mean it.

You keep spitting into the toilet, opening your mouth and willing something other than saliva to come out. You try pulling the trigger (hey, it works for bulimics!), chugging water, or anything else that just might bring up all that beer.

You give up hope, grab the garbage can and begin to head back to your room when – YES! – it comes. Lots and lots of it. Beer, vodka, and the Jimmy Johns #6 you scarfed down for dinner. Vomiting has never felt so good. You welcome the heaves, celebrate the bile, and as quickly as it started you are done.

You are sweating. There are tears in your eyes, but sweet Jesus you feel great.

You pour yourself a glass of water, brush your teeth, grab the garbage can and head to your room where you quickly pass out.

When you wake up in the morning you feel great, and after some scrambled eggs and toast you are ready to hit the bottle again.

Come back next week for more moments of misery that we can all share. Like all those damn drunk texts.