It was a couple days after Christmas and my sister and I were at my parents’ cherished retirement pad in Florida. I was hungover and menstruating, so basically my mouth and vagina tasted like cat piss and pennies. We decided mimosas were in order… until I had a sip, remembered single handedly slamming a bottle of bubbly the night before and replaced the champagne with vodka. My mother came home two hours later, and was not happy that A. I had broken into her emergency alcohol supply (this actually exists) and B. that we had decided to get drunk before noon rather than returning/exchanging Christmas presents for her like we said we would three days in a row now.

The two man party kept going until 7 p.m., eight hours later, and somehow we convinced our dad to drive us to a local bar to watch a highly anticipated NFL game. In exchange, we would let him have our McFlurries that were in the freezer. (Also, true.)

The first thing I did when I walked into the bar was buy a waitress’ entire tray of Jell-O shots. The following things also happened at the bar that night: My sister, 21, made out with a 60 year old bartender for a free bag of Jay’s potato chips, I face planted in front of a young family having dinner and the mother says to her daughter “do not talk to that woman”, and as my father pulls in to pick us up I have my pants around my ankles (definitely on the rag), pissing in the parking lot terrace and using the hands of two old geezers to balance myself. (Apparently I had called my dad to tell him he couldn’t eat my McFlurry afterall and spoke like “someone had stapled my tongue to my chin” therefore, he felt compelled to come get us. A**hole.). Meanwhile, my sister is sitting Indian style in a handicap parking spot across from a child who couldn’t be older than twelve, ripping menthol cigarettes and telling him about the Christmas presents she got.

My father got out of the car, collected his two homeless slut daughters, and took us home. Apparently I tried to make my own McFlurry when we get home and left two cartons of ice cream out overnight on my mother’s antique wooden table. I also must have opened a bag of chocolate chips and ran around the house doing the helicopter because they were EVERYWHERE, including in my seventeen year old dog’s food bowl, the next morning. Oops.

Anyway, I woke up around 1 p.m. the next day feeling not good (I literally think childbirth will feel like a fart after this hangover) and walked out into the living room area blissfully unaware of the storm that was awaiting me. I said good morning to my mother whose response came in the form of stopping in her tracks, pivoting in slow motion, and staring at me with a mix of utter disgust and genuine pity for a solid ten seconds. No words. My sister motioned me over to the couch with saucer eyes and whispered, “you went to the bathroom on mom’s oriental rug last night,”  as she choked, basically gagging, on stifled laughter. My jaw dropped and out of the corner of my eye, I see that the rug is indeed rolled up and standing against the porch door.

In the next few minutes, with jaw still dropped, I vacillate between feeling utterly horrified and thinking this is the funniest thing I have ever done. (Really mature.) However, there was a serious miscommunication between my sister and me, because while she was trying to tell me that I pissed on the carpet, I, for some sick reason, was under the impression I went #2. So, without further ado, I decided that my best approach is to pretend that I remembered what I did, that I was mortified and sickeningly remorseful. So I went up to my mother who was at the stove making lunch, tapped her on the shoulder and actually uttered this sentence:

“I am so sorry I pooped on your rug last night.”

She tossed the spatula onto the counter and started running around the house inspecting the rest of the rugs screaming, “where is the sh*t? WHERE IS YOUR SH*T? Jesus Christ, you’re like some kind of animal!” At this point I realized I had not in fact taken a dump on the floor. That was simulataneously the best and worst realization of that year.

“No mom, I didn’t. I thought that’s what happened but I guess I just peed.”

“Just peed, Suzy Just PEED? I walked out here in the middle of the night, and you are buck naked, barely standing, peeing all over my grandmother’s rug.” At this point she proceeded to show me what I looked like; my mother, a little waif in a taffeta pant suit, waddling back and forth, bending slightly backwards, with her hands bent up at her chin and her tongue hanging out like a drunk, dying stegoceras. “You were so incapable of standing up that you looked like a jumbo shrimp urinating all over my house.” At this point my sister is behind my mother literally suffocating herself with a pillow trying not to lose it. If it didn’t hurt so bad to laugh, I would have cracked. I am sure of it. But my heartbeat was in my eyes, my brain in my ass, and my vital organs barely keeping afloat somewhere in between. “And you just stared at me, Suzy, like a goddam freak. And your f’ing tampon string was dangling between your legs, like you were some kind of wind-up doll. What would you have done if your father had walked out and you’re standing there with no clothes on and a wet rope hanging from your vagina?” (Um, probably physically fought him for the rest of the ice cream, I’m thinking.) “It was disgusting, Suzy. You just stood there, laughing, pissing all over like it was your job. Like it was your goddam destiny. I HAD TO WIPE YOU, SUZY. I HAD TO WIPE MY GODDAMN TWENTY-TWO-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER.”

And with that comment, my sister lost it and the only thing that I could muster was “at least I didn’t poop.” Disgusted, my mother stormed into her bedroom and slammed the door. It was only after the smell of burning garlic took over the house that my sister and I realized we needed to stop cackling in order to prevent the house from burning down. The odor must have hit my mother at the same exact time, because she came out, saw my sister and I frantically tossing water all over the kitchen, and started laughing – hard. We made amends, and decided it was almost 2 p.m. and therefore time to hit the bottle. We were on vacation, after all, and in some twisted way, celebrating the fact that I hadn’t scattered my feces all over the house seemed right.

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!).

Every week I write a weekly top ten list (what up, Letterman?) about the hard hitting issues. The tough. The real deal. You know, like stupid celebrities and things that piss me off on Facebook. But this week I want to take things to another level.

For the past four weeks I have stopped drinking. Like, completely. I know – scary. Especially for a girl like me who loves to pair a drink with every time of the day. 9:30 AM? Bloody Mary. 11:45 AM? Margarita. 12:00 PM? Vodka Cran. 1:30 PM? Harpoon Summer Ale. 6:00 PM? Dirty Martini. Make that porn star dirty. You get the picture. I am definitely no lightweight.

But, several weeks ago after a rough night at an infamous Times Square watering home, which may or may not have involved shots of tequila…that I drank while dancing on the bar… I decided to slam on the brakes until my birthday (September 28th. Feel free to send presents), which totals over two months of stone cold sobriety.

This decision has sparked a lot of controversy, but I’ve remained strong and haven’t slipped up once. When I commit, I commit all the way. I still go out to the bar at least twice a week and, yes, still have a phenomenal time. This month has made me realize one very important thing that not many college students realize:

Sobriety is nice.
And here are a few (well, 10) of the things I love:

10. Cheap barhopping!
Hey, just because you’re not drinking doesn’t mean you can’t hit up all the bars and clubs you want to. A great way to feel comfortable is to go up to the bar, and show the bartender that you’re going to to tip them. Ask for a seltzer or a Sprite and just smile and ask them to “dress it up like a cocktail.” Sometimes you’ll get a snotty bartender, but more often than not, they’ll do it with a wink and a smile. Just holding a drink keeps people from hassling you. Not to mention, as long as you tip the bartenders, you’ll only end up spending about five bucks on drinks a night so you can save cash. Thrifty and healthy. Me likey.

9. Get some effing culture
So instead of getting plastered on a Friday night, you can take advantage of awesome museums, movies and sight seeing. If you’re in the NYC area, the MoMa has free entry from 4-8 every Friday. Skipping happy hour and checking out the James Ensor exhibit? I’ll take it.

8. Meet better dudes.
Drinking = confidence= meeting hotties! Right? Um, no. Hanging out at a bar soberly will keep your judgment clear. That guy who’s a total slamming hottie when you’re five cocktails deep? He’s wearing an Ed Hardy shirt and uses more hair product than all the Gotti boys combined. Ew. Since I’ve sobered up, I’ve learned to ditch the losers and chat up the sweetheart who’s not dropping it like it’s hot. Trust me, the genuine nice guys appreciate the non-sloppy girls. Plus, if they respect the fact that you’re not drinking? Keeper.

7. No more drunk munchies!
That extra large pizza with all the fixings at 4 AM doesn’t seem like such a great idea anymore.

6. Goodbye hangovers.
I no longer feel like I’ve been run over by a semi every Saturday and Sunday morning. I’m (GASP) productive on the weekends. Unless there’s a Back to the Future or Top Model marathon on. Then forget it; I’m married to the couch, hungover or not.

5. Learn to say No.
Sometimes I’m kind of a pushover. I’d like to say “loyal,” but once in a while I’ll find myself doing something above and beyond what’s necessary. For example, giving my former male roommate PEDICURES. I know. You’d be surprised how many of my friends were annoyed that I stopped drinking. Doing a stint of sobriety, especially at a college-age, is not easy. People are not understanding but I learned that I DON’T have to give a reason, even if people often demand one. Even after saying, “No, I’m really not drinking,” I’ll have friends (and even new acquaintances!) telling me, “Come on, just a drink. Oh just take a sip. It’s not a big deal. Seriously, you’re going to regret not drinking.” Right. I’ve learned to hold my own and say No. Peer pressure does exist, but now I know how to deal. Thanks, D.A.R.E.

4. No more empty calories.
Did you know one shot of tequila is 100 calories? And a margarita can be up to 250? Five margaritas is about as many calories as you should consume in an entire day. I’ll splurge on a burger instead, and still be cutting calories.

3. It’s really, really funny to watch drunk people. I mean, really funny.
You get to watch people go from perfectly coiffed and demure to complete sh**show circus in three hours. Amazing what you learn about friends when you’re sober and they’re not.

2. Feel and look better.
Despite feeling a little left out when everyone’s getting loaded, the physical benefits of lack of booze have been amazing. I’m more energetic, slimming down, less nauseous and headachey. Alcohol does a number on your skin, hair and all physical features. No more bags, dried out skin or frizzed out hair. I mean, we’ve all seen LiLo at her worst. Ew. Grey Goose, you are sooo not worth it.

1. No more stupid dance moves.
Sobriety means less arm waving, nerdy, “WOO-HOO” yelling and getting low. Lil’ Jon, you are my life.

Okay, I lied. I totally still dance like that when I’m sober. Put on “Pretty Young Thing” by MJ and despite my lack of booze, I still look like the drunkest girl in the bar.

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

The summer after I graduated from high school I was excited to finally be free from compulsory family vacays to celebrate the 4^th of July. So to celebrate both America’s and my own newfound independence, I went big, I went all out – I went to a house party.

It was the kind of party I look back fondly on in remembrance of high school days. There was cheap vodka, a backup keg, and plenty of top shelf liquor plucked from the generous hostesses’ parents liquor cabinet. The night started out innocently enough, with keg stands, red and blue shots (white didn’t work out the way we’d planned), and plenty of high schoolers bragging about just how wasted they were.

As a mature, soon-to-be-freshman, I was so over the same un-graduated attendees that had been plaguing house parties for the last 4 years of my life. As I lamented the lack of “real men” with my equally sophisticated best friends, the college guys showed up.

There’s always a few; the ones who are so bored to death while visiting home that they will stoop to new lows and attend their buddy’s-little cousin’s-best friend’s party. Easily identifiable by their upscale party attire (not basketball shorts), college hats, and facial hair, heads literally swiveled when this otherwise unremarkable group of 4 guys walked through the door. Sensing the air of competition, the girls and I immediately discussed dibs before pulling down our Hollister tank tops and hiking up our Abercrombie shorts and plastering on our college-girl looks of indifference (an older, wiser friend had previously informed us that smiling makes you look younger.)

All that scowling must have done the trick, because a few Keystones later, I was flirting charmingly drunkenly with my favorite undergrad. I could sense he was nervous, given the tendency of high school girls to lie about their age, so to put him at ease I showed him my license (really). Once he had properly satisfied himself that I was legally 18, the sparks flew. Pretty soon we were passionately sucking face on the couch while people took pictures of us, elbowing each other and shouting “Myspace!”

As those with curfews slowly trickled out the door, others disappeared in pairs, and to impress my new friend with my maturity, I suggested we go somewhere a little more private. Unfortunately, a brief (and grope-filled) tour of the house proved every door locked and every bathroom –ahem—occupied. I suggested we take things outdoors for a little lovin’ au natural to find the Jacuzzi in use and the pool honestly too disgusting to swim in, let alone hook up in. And as we made our way deeper and deeper into the back yard, we saw it: a trampoline.

Needless to say, we “jumped” at the opportunity and “hopped” right on (ok I’ll stop now). The hookup got off to a rocky start (I had to feign preference for his school’s football rival to get him to go down on me), but finished with a bang—literally. Our hookup happened to coincide with the last of the night’s illegal fireworks displays, leading to my newfound appreciation for the missionary position (he missed the show, but judging by the look on his face, I don’t think he minded).

After bouncing our way off the trampoline and tiptoeing back through the house around passed out 16-year-olds, I walked him to the door and bade him a happy 5^th of July and goodbye for what I thought was forever. He ended up transferring schools and I still see him at the library; on those occasions I have to suppress the urge to salute him.

It’s no secret that alcohol changes people. After a night of drinking, we’re often surprised by what we may or may not have done during a night of debauchery. Oftentimes we end up with great stories, but there are also those nights that leave us wondering how the hell we ended up on a stranger’s couch with only one shoe, a purse full of ping pong balls, and 17 new phone numbers in our phone (all listed under names like, “bathroom dude,” “cigarette guy,” and “hgjb52″) .

The truth is, alcohol lowers our inhibitions…and standards…for everything.  We do things when we’re drinking that we’d never, ever, in a million years consider when we’re sober (like mixing ranch dressing and brownies).

Here are five of the most common things that are oddly tolerable – and even preferred – when the booze is flowing through our systems:

The beer pong ball – Has anyone actually realized how unsanitary this thing is? Although no one EVER thinks about it when they’re playing, it’s pretty nasty. It’s falling on the floor (oftentimes a disgusting floor that hasn’t seen a mop since the between-tenants-landlord-cleaning) and god knows where else, but because you’re too drunk to notice how vile this is, you don’t care. Somehow it’s all okay because it’s been dipped into a cup of water. The same cup of water that was put there 2 hours before and  has been dipped into hundreds of times by people you may not even know (but may make out with later…)

Frat house bathrooms – As far as sh*tholes (literally) go, these may be the worst. I have been in ones that not only don’t have toilet paper (forcing me to use a crumpled up piece of notebook paper… I don’t wanna talk about it), but also contain a bathtub filled with things one would rather not think about, a sink that doesn’t work, and a door that doesn’t even fully close.  But because your drunk self needs to pee something awful, you will brave the bathroom anyway. And you might even sit, being that squatting takes concentration that your drunk ass can’t muster up. When nature calls, you answer. Even if the response is possibly hazardous to your health.

Creepy people hitting on you – Who hasn’t had this happen? Inevitably, everyone is much more confident when they’re drunk, and they throw caution to the wind. Sadly, this not only applies to attractive and normal individuals but also unfortunate looking and strange people too. Yet, somehow, you don’t mind. In fact, due to your desire to swindle a free drink or those thick-ass beer goggles you’re wearing, you kinda like it. And may even leave with it…er…him.

Nudity - As a rule, most of us do not feel comfortable when sober to take off our clothes in front of complete strangers. Yet for some odd reason when we’re drunk, it seems acceptable. No, mandatory. Is there any more explanation needed?

Talking about taboo and inappropriate subjects – This is yet another side effect of increased confidence due to alcohol consumption. One begins to think that because they are drunk now would be an excellent time to talk about everything and everyone. Your sex life? Everyone should know! That time you vomited in your roommate’s closet and played dumb the next morning? Confession time! Your opinions about certain people that may or may not be in the vicinity? Who cares?!

BONUS: Becoming BFFs with that chick you’ve hated for years - Nothing brings out the love like a bottle of booze. She may have stabbed you in the back and made your life hell, but now you’re drunk and hugging and you love her so much you just HAVE to do brunch next Sunday.  WTF?

Got any others?

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.

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

You set your alarm for 6:00 AM. You haven’t seen the clock that early since your high school days. Unlike your high school days, though, you don’t hit snooze 5 times. In fact, you shoot out of bed, excited for the day to come.

You shower and dress yourself in your cutest green outfit (that you laid out last night) before heading out with the roommates to get in line for Kegs & Eggs (and a free t-shirt!) at one of the campus Pubs.

By the time 8am rolls around, you are chugging an Irish Car Bomb. By 8:30, your tongue is a bright shade of green, which you show off in the 26 selfies you take with your roommate.

The scene at the first bar gets old after awhile, so you grab your friends and move on. You stumble down the street en route to a house party giving a “Woohoo!” and high five/hug to every other St. Patrick’s Day celebrator on the street. You stop and heckle that kid who is clearly going to class. “What is wrong with you?! It’s OUR holiday!!”  You run into someone dressed as a Leprechaun and make him take a picture with you. (And think to yourself, “I’ll just tag him as Random Leprechaun Dude.”)

When you finally make your way to the party, you immediately hop on a team for green flip cup. Another Leprechaun Dude fills the cups with beer, but it looks different than the stuff you had at the bar. You soon find out that green beer is expensive, so these guys made it themselves by mixing food coloring into the cups/pitchers.

Three rounds later, not only is your tongue a nice shade of green, but your lips and chin as well from all that chugging. You take 14 more selfies with your flip cup team, which you have now dubbed “The Green Bearded Ladies.”

It is now 1pm and you are wasted. “KISS ME, I’M IRISHHH!” you scream at anyone who will listen. One drunk dude does (yes, even with your green beard), but closing your eyes makes you want to hurl so you pull away.

Another group of friends calls. They are at a bar. With food. You decide to head over there.

6 hours and a small pizza later (which you only know about because there is a pizza box in your bed and marinara sauce in your hair), you wake up fully clothed. With your shoes on.  The last thing you remember was an order of cheese fries and a green long island iced tea.

Your cell phone is in your hand, yet somehow you missed 11 calls and 22 text messages. You get up and look in the mirror. Your chin is green, your hands are covered in bar stamps and the shirt you are wearing is not yours.

Besides the cotton mouth, though, you feel pretty good. Your phone buzzes again – a text message. “Where you be, biznaaaatch? Come to the bar!”

You run your fingers through your hair, grab the final piece of pizza out of the box, and head out for St. Patrick’s Day Round 2.

Yeah, we’ve all been there. And it truly is the greatest day of the year.

[Photo courtesy of The Orion]

It seems like just yesterday I was packing my gloves, hats, and facemask to come back to school and start 2nd semester. And now, all of a sudden, it’s spring break. Time is of the essence and even though most people only have a few days or a week to pull themselves together, here are my last-minute spring break tips.

Invest in Sunscreen- I know. I sound like your mom. That’s because I’m quoting my own mom. But seriously its been months since your skin has been exposed to the sun. The only thing more tragic than coming back with cornrows from the Caribbean is returning to school with a 3rd degree burn and 4 inch blister on your face (true story).

Begin Drinking Dangerous Amounts- (And this is part of the blog where I veer away from anything my mom has ever said.) In just a few days you will be drinking more alcohol than your liver could ever imagine and unless you want to die, it’s essential you start building up your tolerance ASAP. I know that a lot of people have midterms this week but that’s no excuse to be letting your guard down. There should be beers at every breakfast and shots with every snack. If there is any point during the day where you could legally drive, you are not preparing yourself responsibly for whats going to happen during break.

Start Sleeping- When you’re not drinking, you should be sleeping. Sleep so much that you will never want to sleep again. Because you won’t be sleeping. Not for an entire week. Chances are that if you’re not in the mood to get some, your roommate will be. There’s no hope for any 8-hour nights in any spring break destination.

Pack Immodium- Ew. Gross. I know. But some of the places where people will be traveling aren’t exactly known for their safe water and hygienic food practices. All it takes is one slurp of tap water from the bathroom for you to be keeled over for the rest of the break. Save yourself and your dignity by packing a just-in-case box.

Buy a One-Piece- If you haven’t already begun the rigorous (and traditional) spring-break-no-eat-find-out-where-the-school-gym-is diet yet, there is no longer any chance for you get that six-pack that you talked about during New Year’s Resolutions. But don’t freak out. Nothing covers up a long winter of eating like a one-piece. Tankini’s are so 90’s and two-pieces are too flashy. Opt for the always classy one-piece. Maybe even go strapless! If all else fails go for the Speedo lifeguard suit. It’s a great conversation piece and it’s make people feel surprisingly safe around you.

Google Celebrities+Spring Break- Find out exactly which D-list celebrities will be at your spring break location and start bragging. Don’t let anyone else feel like they picked the better destination because Spencer and Heidi will be hosting a wet-t-shirt contest. Let them know that DJ Juice will be kickin it old school next to your hotel. And if there’s no one at your destination, make it up. I thought I had made up DJ Juice until I just googled and found out that he would be making a spring break appearance.

What are your last-minute tips for a great spring break?

Eating whilst drunk is, in general, about as smart as sexing up strangers whilst drunk or calling ex-boyfriends whilst drunk, which is to say not very smart at all.

All the same, when I’ve consumed large amounts of alcohol, I’m going to go across the street and get chicken tenders from Whataburger. It’s just something that is inevitably going to happen, like Christmas every year, like my period every month (knock on wood), like my g*ddamn alarm clock going off every morning.

Because there is no single more satisfying aspect of the drinking experience than eating a lukewarm chicken tender at 2:30 in the morning. The nuanced interplay between the textures of chicken and breading somehow melds perfectly with the taste of Guinness that still lingers in my mouth.

That isn’t to say, of course, that other cravings don’t arise in my drunken state. Here are some other drunk food favs:

Potato Chips - Usually Sour Cream and Onion, which causes a serious breath issue in the morning (Onion + Alcohol=another reason to vomit). At the time, though, (like so many other things) it really seems like a great idea. Potato chips are usually pretty filling, you usually already have some at your house so you don’t have to drive around to find an open store to buy them (unless you live in a legitimate city and can simply walk outside for food) and they are fairly portable. By this I mean, you can’t very well bring your Chalupa into bed with you as you pass out. Or at least you really shouldn’t. I’ve passed out with my hand in a bag of chips before. Some would call that a cry for help, I would have called it being prepared.

Fast Food – I know this category seems pretty broad, but think about the times that you’ve been drunk and someone is driving you home. You pick up your head to look out the window, or get some fresh air, or relieve yourself of the alcohol you’ve consumed and pretty much the first fast food restaurant you see makes you want food from that restaurant intensely. When I see that Wendy’s sign, absolutely nothing in the world – no other restaurant, no person, nothing – will satisfy me but a number 9. That’s all I want and I will not be able to go to sleep/pass out until I get it.

Pizza – Cold, or fresh. The way the cheese and breading settles in your stomach sort of makes you think that it’s soaking up the alcohol and all the grease sort of makes you sleepy. Pizza is great for the night of casual drinking with friends, where you somehow all end up drunk without realizing it. When you do realize it, of course, you get hungry. What are you going to do but call up any of the 50 pizza places on or around campus?

All that being said, it’s important to note that eating whilst drunk, while greatly satisfying at the time, is a bad idea because you shouldn’t be eating at all that late at night, especially such fatty foods, and, according to Go Ask Alice, eating while drunk and sick can actually make you feel sicker. A good rule of thumb is to eat before you go out so you can fill up and absorb alcohol better when you do drink. And, on a personal note, know that Guinness and cheese dip should never, ever mix.

What is your favorite drunk food? Have any tips on forgoing drunken snacking?

Welcome to college, freshmen!

You may have made it through Welcome Week without any run-ins with the campus police (congrats!), but you still have plenty of opportunities to meet them up close and personal.

There are going to be many times this year and well into your college career that you will find yourself surrounded by alcohol. And, naturally, you are going to want to partake. Just beware–while you are navigating the university party scene, your RA’s, Campus Police, and Public Safety units are gearing up to bust underage revelers.

Here are some tips on how you can avoid getting written up before your first semester is over.

1. Don’t act like ‘The Freshman.’

Just because you suddenly have access to alcohol, it doesn’t mean you need to consume ALL of the alcohol at once. Even if the cops are out and about, they don’t have the manpower to hunt down every single underage boozer. So, they’ll zero in on the kid stumbling around with a trash can on his head before thinking twice about the passive mingler. The same goes with your RA, who really doesn’t want to walk in on you peeing in the corner of elevator.

2. Beware of PDA.

True story: I was once stumbling across campus with a guy I liked, and was pretty much all over him. I was stopped by a Public Safety brigade, who proceeded to quiz me: Did I know this guy? Where were we going? While I insisted that he was a friend, one of the officers interrupted with “You’re obviously intoxicated and we want to make sure you’re not going to make a bad decision tonight.” Ouch. (Editor’s Note: Where were those guys when I was making out with the guy with the tats?)

Luckily, they let us continue on our way, but the situation could have easily ended badly. This anecdote should be a lesson to guys, too. I’m sure my friend was mortified when the Public Safety peeps pegged him as a date rapist. But, just like the crazy, drunken antics mentioned above will red flag a drunk college student, a pair of horny kids who can’t make it back to the dorm room will also raise the suspicions of the University 5-0.

3. Be careful with your Fake.

If you have someone who is of age that can make a beer run for you, don’t even try to buy your own booze. At my school, all of the campus liquor stores had walls covered with confiscated fake ID’s. It’s a lot easier to get served at a bar or restaurant than it is to purchase booze from the store. FYI.

Still, you need to research the bars you attempt to get in to. Everyone at my school knew which bars would let in the worst fakes, which states made for the worst fakes, etc. I once had a fake ripped up by the manager of a new campus bar, because they were on the lookout for New York ID’s after being watched closely by the Po.

One more little tale: I knew a girl who got fined because she left her wallet at a gas station, and somehow, the cops found her fake ID in it. If a cop sees you with a fake for any reason, it can constitute fraud. Just food for thought.

4. Keep it inconspicous.

If you are walking to a party, don’t crack open a Natty Ice on the street. Don’t fill a Coca-Cola bottle with vodka. And don’t help a friend carry a case of beer if you are a minor. In many states, you can’t even handle alcohol if you are a minor. So if the cops are scouting out the liquor store, and card you and your of-age friend as you drag a shopping cart full of Patron to your car, you might get in trouble, even if you’re stone-cold sober and the bottles are unopened.

Even if you are trying to hide the libations you are hauling to the party, be careful. Ironically, backpacks scream “hidden alcohol,” especially when you are en route to a quad party on a warm Saturday evening. The cops may ask you open your bag, and having 30 beers fall out might put a damper on your weekend.

5. Stay current on campus news.

If there are four bars on campus, and three of them have been raided in the past month, you might want to lay low in order to avoid a sting operation on the fourth bar. Try to catch wind of any rumors that Tequila Tom’s might get raided.

Of course, if you are friendly with the bar staff, they might look out for you as well, because they want to save their own ass as much as you want to save yours. I’ve been flat out told by bouncers that they couldn’t let me in because they anticipated a raid; a year later, those same bouncers planned an “escape route” through the kitchen for the only girl in our group who had yet to hit the big 2-1.

6. Don’t advertise.

This goes along with watching your behavior and being mindful of your fake ID, but it’s the number one reason a minor will get busted. If you’re drinking in your room, don’t leave bottles and cans strewn about for your RA to see. Don’t display your shot glasses and your funnel. Many schools today even have rules that no alcohol-related decorations (posters, etc) may be displayed in “dry” dorms.

Just being alert to the fact that many people on campus are looking out for underage drinking can help you make smart decisions. It’s really not difficult to evade the disciplinarians at your school, and before you know it, you’ll be passing down your fake ID to your younger siblings and telling them to use it wisely. Take your time to get to know your campus and it’s policies. You have four years of partying awaiting you, so there’s plenty of time to tune up your beer pong skills.