It’s Wednesday so you know what that means: another person has been sent home from The Biggest Loser ranch. And, holy hell, that was some serious drama. What is up with the green team? Why are they so mean? Someone needs to sit them down and force them to watch a Titanic, Notebook and Green Mile marathon until they crack and show some damn emotion. I’m not sure if I hate them or the red team more. Or that nasty brown team from the last couples’ season.

OMG, did I just go on a mega Biggest Loser tangent? Wow. I need help. What I meant to say was that it’s Wednesday which means it’s time for another exciting round of Would You Rather….

So let’s forget about The Biggest Loser for now and think of something a little happier (even if it’s far off in the future for many of us). Give us your vote and share your reasoning in the comments. Happy Hump Day!

Would you rather pee on your guy out of excitement when he proposes OR throw up on him out of excitement when he proposes?

Things to consider: if you ate asparagus for lunch, potential engagement photos, the kiss.

"OMG. I can't believe I just called him the wrong name."

A few weeks ago, I asked one of my boys what guys were most afraid of in the bedroom. For him it was knockin’ a girl up. For me it was weird farty noises.

Needless to say, I felt a bit shallow. I mean, shouldn’t I be the one fearing a bun in the oven? And shouldn’t he just be scared of skid marks in his boxer shorts?

I wanted to know if I was alone, so this week I asked the CollegeCandy writers to share their biggest nightmares involving boys. Some of them have experienced them and others, thankfully, have avoided the awkwardness thus far. Luckily, I’m not alone in my fears. And even more luckily, none of this shiz has ever plagued me before.

I just pray and hope it never does.

Thu – USC: Standing up and discovering that you’ve started your period. Yup, Superbad status.

Elizabeth – UC Berkeley: Having gas while you’re hooking up.  Or even worse – farting in your sleep while they’re still awake.  Definitely guilty of that one.

Kayla – California State University, Sacramento: If my boyfriend ever found out about the ghastly habits I indulge in when I close the bathroom door, I would have to enroll in the Witness Protection Program.

Kim – Stanford: My worst nightmare in the bedroom was when his mother walked in on us, said sorry, but to come down for some cookies when we were done. True story.

Ava – NYU: Hmm, I think it would have to be vomiting on a guy. There’s a way in which drunk isn’t sexy…Luckily, this hasn’t happened to me. Let’s hope that never changes!

Lauren – University of Michigan: The time I clogged the toilet at a boy’s house. And he had to come in and help me clean it up. Just thinking about it gives me the chills.

Kay- Simmons College: Farting or queefing during the act is mortifying.

Lindsay – University of Texas: I had a sick stomach and my fiance and I were 69ing and I farted in his face. Most humiliating moment of my entire life. I have no clue why he’s still engaged to me.

Sarabeth – University of Texas: I’m always terrified that somehow in bed I’m going to end up kneeing him in the balls. I’d feel sooooo bad if that happened, and I take extra precaution to insure my knee is no where near the naughty bits.

Jordan – University of Miami: Trying to show off a hair-flipping sexy move from an exercise pole dancing class and giving him a bloody nose. So much for sexy.

Noa – CU Boulder: I hadn’t waxed my bikini line in a long time. When I was hooking up with this guy he took of my pants and actually said “Whoa.” I wanted to cry.

Sara C- Fordham: I was visiting my hometown crush at his school during my spring break. One day I was taking a shower, and in the middle of washing my hair I started to feel really ill. I called to him in the next room, he came in, and I threw up all over him. No, I wasn’t drunk. Yes, I was naked, with suds in my hair.

What do you fear most?

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

I remember those naive high school days when puking during a rager meant that a) you couldn’t control your liquor and b) the party was over, for you. That’s why I was shocked one night during my freshman year of college, when my friend came back from the bathroom and proudly announced, “Oh, man, I just puked my brains out!”

I immediately switched to babysitter-mode. “Are you okay? Do we need to leave?” I asked, fully concerned.

“Nope!” My friend replied. “Got more room for beer now!”

At the time, this was an unprecedented occurrence to me. I’d never considered the theory of “puke and rally.”

A few years later, I’ve totally become acquainted with this practice. One summer, after a coworker tried unsuccessfully to light three consecutive shots of Sambuca on fire in mouth, I knew that that much booze so quickly was not going to be good. After the third shot went down, I booked it for the bathroom and barfed. A friend was worriedly knocking on the bathroom door, concerned as I had once been for my own friend. I opened the door, and she asked if I was okay. My response?

“Let’s rage!”

It wasn’t until the next day that I’d admitted to vomiting. The funny thing is that, at the time, this seemed logical. But as I’m writing this, I am already imagining the scathing comments this article will receive from disgusted CC readers.

The truth is, there are thousands of college girls across the country who have taken to this procedure. Not only is it easy to think you’re sobering up by sticking your finger down your throat midway through the night (newsflash, you really aren’t), but, in today’s media-crazed, looks-obsessed society, there’s a lot of pressure for women to keep the freshman (or sophomore, or junior, or senior) fifteen off. And a lot of the time, getting rid of the empty alcohol calories seems like the way to go.

It’s a lot easier to induce vomiting when you’re already close to naturally letting go, or when you’re buzzed enough not to feel your index finger scraping your tonsils. And then there’s the midnight munchies. You know, when that chicken parm calzone, side of curly fries, and half order of mozzarella sticks sobers you up enough to know that you’re going to want to throw up in the morning just thinking about all those calories. So, ladies, what do many of us do? We throw up.

Vomiting due to drinking doesn’t have the stigma that true bulimia has. Bulimia is a disease. Binge drinking in college is merely a social problem. Besides, there’s always the “that hit me way too hard” excuse. If you’ve thrown up from drinking, chances are, people will assume it was a freak incident, but if your friends suspect you of having an eating disorder, they will call for intervention. So making yourself throw up with the “well I was drunk” excuse doesn’t seem so bad.

The truth? Purging is purging. You can’t make excuses to your esophagus when it is being eaten away by the stomach acid you just conjured up. And if you’re drinking to excess every night and consistently blowing chunks before hitting the hay, you better write an apology letter to your liver as well.

So, ladies, let’s make a pact – let’s not over-do the binging, and let’s not rely on purging as a quick solution to our bad decisions. Besides, what happens when you run into a hot guy at the end of the night, and your breath smells (and tastes) like stale beer, vomit, and the lingering aromas of cheese fries?

Annoying drunk people…

1. Feel the need to scream, “Omigod! I’m soooo drunk!” It’s not an Olympic sport. You don’t get a medal if you blow a .20 at the end of the night.

2. Feel the need to deny their drunkenness. They fall into walls and slur “I’m totally fine!” and then reach for a bottle of Bud Lite, Jager, Windex, anything, to prove that they can handle even more.

Avoid being an annoying drunk by going with the flow and hanging out. No need to announce your current level of inxotication, or how sober you think you are.

Annoying drunk people…

3. Need to be the center of attention by screaming, dancing on tables, and giving other partygoers a general headache. “We’re going streaking!” is only funny when it’s Will Ferrell.

4. Can’t help but be the center of attention by getting over-emotional and crying. Extra annoying points when they lock themselves in bathrooms and demand consolation from their best friend for hours, thereby ruining the non-annoying best friend’s night.

Avoid being an annoying drunk by checking your emotional baggage at the door and not using alcohol to combat your life’s problems. Also, don’t use booze as an excuse to prove how wild and uninhibited you are. If you are headed down the attention-whore road, try parking yourself on one bar stool for a night and seeing how many people gravitate towards you.

Annoying drunk people…

5. Need to get laid. No matter what. They think they’re sexy when they whisper sweet nothings into a hottie’s ear, when in reality they are slobbering all over a stranger’s face. Gross. Once rejected, they will probably stumble around the party, trying again. And again. And again.

6. Will get laid. By anyone. And sometimes everyone. Annoying drunk sex-maniacs will leave their friends behind to go home with a stranger, or swap saliva and other bodily fluids with many people – sometimes even multiple partners in one night. This isn’t classy, or particularly safe.

Avoid being an annoying drunk by putting your friends first, and choosing your partners wisely. There’s nothing wrong with an alcohol-induced makeout sesh once in a while, but you deserve the best, and you should hold out for top shelf lovers!

Annoying drunk people…

7. Leave their morals in the bottom of a shot glass. They steal, vandalize, and start fights. You don’t want to be the person that isn’t invited to the party because your friends think you are a klepto, and you don’t want to be banned from the bar for cracking pool sticks over your head, or bitch-slapping your peers.

8. Puke. They will puke on the floor of the bar, in cars, in their beds, their roommates beds, and all over themselves. We all have bad nights, drink one too many, and get the spins, but if your friends feel like an invitation to accompany you to a party means signing up to be a hair-holder, your company is going to get old quick.

Avoid being an annoying drunk by knowing your limits, at least to some extent.

If more than one of these annoying drunken traits apply to you, you might want to rethink the boozing. It’s great to unwind and have a good time, but if Jack Daniels turns transforms you from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde, you’re going to alienate your circle of drinking buddies. And you could be the person that the rest of us are pointing and laughing not with, but AT.

And now you want to barf.

Your head starts pounding as soon as your alarm goes off at 8:00 and you wonder with appreciation who thought to set it last night. You roll over to turn it off (and discover an empty pizza box…who knew?) and a wave of nausea runs over you. “Should I or shouldn’t I go to class?” You should – and you have to.

You stop for coffee and a bagel on the way in hopes that somehow one of the two will soak up the Schlitz that is still making its way through your system. You curse the guy who invented Dollar Pitchers. You curse your friends for making you go. You curse yourself for bringing more than $1 with you.

Before getting a seat in class you run to the bathroom to pee/try to puke again. You shudder at your reflection in the mirror; between the dark circles under your eyes (a combination of exhaustion and leftover eyeliner), the messy ponytail on your head, and the stamp from the bar that rubbed off on your cheek while you slept, there is no way people aren’t going to know you are hung over as hell.

You try to freshen up a bit, but all that work makes you tired and you give up. “It’s Tuesday morning at 9am. Who isn’t hungover?!”

Class starts and you chug your coffee and pray your professor doesn’t call on you to participate. Obviously he/she does and you are forced to discuss the use of irony in the novel and its contribution to the overall theme. Riiiight. Your mouth is full of cotton and you aren’t wearing a bra and now the entire class is going to be focused on you? And you have to talk?

You somehow manage to BS your way through it (or the teacher can’t bear to watch you struggle any longer), and return to your seat where you will nap for the duration of the class. Unfortunately, your stomach – angered by the mere act of standing up – has other plans. As soon as the question is answered and the Prof has moved on, you grab your things and beeline to the bathroom.

As you hug the bowl in the public restroom where profs are coming in and out, you swear to God that you will never drink on a weeknight again. Of course it isn’t true, but in that moment you really mean it.

We know how you feel; we’ve all been hungover for class before.

[Every week, CC and John bring you some of the weirdest, funniest, saddest things he hears on his college campus. Join the Overheard revolution!

Leave your own overheard convos in the comments.]

1st girl: “I had a really nice, lovely, normal New Years’ kiss. No drama.”

2nd girl: “Yeah. Well, I ended up getting a kiss from my rabbit. He’s man enough for me.”

1st girl:”Cute!”

3rd girl: “I sat by myself and read Wikipedia while the ball dropped. Then my cat threw up.”

“Hey! Do that voice again! It’s like we’ve got two dads. The best Christmas party ever!”

“Bacteria turkey. That’s the grossest thing you can say. The way the words line up in your mouth. The subtle alliteration. It’s like, I want to vomit, but it’d be the most fascinating vomit ever. Think about it.”

“You know, there were plenty of other parties we could have gone to tonight.”

“I don’t think my sexuality is even a question any more. The only physical contact I have with other people is carrying drunk girls home from parties. I think my orientation is ‘transportation equipment.”

“Secretary? Yeah, can’t watch that with the folks. I don’t know what’s worse; the way my dad gets flustered and has to leave the room, or the way my mom starts taking notes.”

“Is this mulled cider? That means it’s cut with E, right?”

“You’re a totally normal until I give you a Nerf gun, and then it’s like you’re four years old again.”

“It’s the cheapest time machine ever!”

“All right, cool, so I’m exempt from Christmas gifts for the next, what, twelve years?”

“This year, I resolve to have way more sex. That seems like a great idea at the time but turns out to be totally gross and stupid the next morning. Also, I resolve to drink more.”

“Am I still a vegetarian if I eat all this sausage?”

“If you’re going to visit me at school, wait until February. We’re starting up the dominatrix classes again. I think we’ll be doing a ‘make-your-own sex toy’ workshop. How cool are you with flogging? No, I’m kidding. Kind of.”

“Oh, wow. Your taste buds look really gross close up. Happy New Year, honey.”

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.

So can we blame her when her love for the bottle and her passion for high fashion collide….in the form of vomit splattered all over some super couture dresses…which she returned…without cleaning them?

Um. Ew.

And, yes. Yes we can.

I’ve been there. Too many times. Like the time my friend borrowed a pair of boots, got drunk and peed behind a dumpster…drowning my boots in urine. Or when I went to use my Chi and found chunks of vomit from a roommate’s particularly bad evening. (“Seriously, I couldn’t even get to the toilet. It was totally projectile!”) Or that time I loaned out my favorite t-shirt only to have it returned with some…er…male secretion splattered all over the front.

The point is this: we don’t care what you do in our clothes, just clean that sh*t up. Especially for Harvey Nichols.

Although, on the bright side, at least it was just vomit. Who knows what this girl is capable of?!

Oh? Is that just me?? No, it isn’t. I’m on a mission for two things: green beer and a leprechaun.

I’ve already found the pot of gold, and I’m spending last year’s treasure on this year’s beer, so I’ll leave some wealth for you all…::hint hint::…it has something to do with a rainbow (a slightly watery, chunky rainbow)…

Though green beer is delicious, in every way, it is not so delicious if there’s nothing to soak it up and then ends as green bile regurgitated on your friends shoes, if you know what I mean.

And who doesn’t enjoy an excuse to eat potatoes, or hearty stew?

Being that I am someone who has been vomited on, I would like to make sure that doesn’t happen to ANYONE, EVER. AGAIN. Please kids, eat a substantial meal before drinking green beer and green eggs and ham all day, I’d really appreciate it.

I will even assist you with some ridiculously good recipes. Deal???

You eat, my babies. No vomiting. Don’t drink and drive. And if you aren’t wearing green, I will pinch the sh*t out of you. Capiche?!

HAVE A PARTY! FEED YOUR FRIENDS!!

-Irish soda bread

-Shepards Pie. (Hello. Amazing)

-Beef and Guinness Stew

-Green eggs and ham

-Apple oatmeal crisp with Irish Whiskey cream

-Pistachio ice cream (cause, who cares if the Irish actually eat it, it’s green and delicious.)

And, in closing….enjoy a nice big bowl of: Lucky Charms!