That being said, it can sometimes be pretty obvious when someone is at a bar for the first time. No matter how hard you might be trying to fit in, that’s probably exactly what’s making you stand out. And trust me, you don’t want to be that girl. Sometimes, no matter how much everyone drinks, there are some things people just don’t forget.

Here are a few handy little tips on how to handle yourself the first time you make an appearance at a bar — from one bar veteran to a bar virgin, trust me on these.

Dress appropriately. I can’t stress this enough. You might think you’ve finally found a place to wear that skin-tight, super-short, leopard print dress you got at Too Cute, but consider your surroundings first. Most bars are relatively casual, especially local ones. I can’t tell you how many bars I’ve been to where everyone is in jeans and a cute top, and in walks an 18-year-old girl in a tiny dress and sky-high heels looking completely out of place and completely 18. Those outfits are usually better suited for a club. Not that you can’t look cute at a bar — you should. But I would say it’s definitely more of a casual environment.

Maybe don’t get on top of the bar. Everyone has those blackout drunk nights that end in waking up in the morning and seeing a hundred pictures of themselves dancing on top of a bar tagged on Facebook. All of my friends, myself included, have found ourselves up there at one point of another. But you probably don’t want to get the reputation as the girl who’s always slutting it up there. You know, the girl who goes up there in one of those really short little dresses so that everyone can see her underwear (or lack thereof), and clumsily pours shots down guys’ throats and shirts and then proceeds to dance like she thinks she’s J-Lo. It’s not the best look…for anyone.

Not everyone cares how drunk you are. You don’t need to loudly proclaim how wasted you are to everyone in your vicinity every five minutes. I can guarantee that no one cares, except for maybe that creepy guy in the corner who’s been watching you. In other words, keep the screeching to a minimum. Nothing is worse than a group of underage girls shrieking about how much they drank and how they don’t know how they’re going to get home.

Keep your friends close. Yes, what your mom has always told you is true – you should definitely use the buddy system when you’re out at a bar. You’ll have to deal with a lot of creepy guys — guys who don’t know what the word ‘no’ means, those guys that just hang around looking at you and muttering under their breath. Or maybe you’re not sober enough to realize the guy you’re eagerly chatting up is actually NOT cute (this is where a friend comes in). Or maybe you’ll get lucky and find a cute guy who needs someone to entertain his friend — hello wing-woman! Also, you just shouldn’t sit alone in a bar. It’s sad.

Try not to spend the night in the bathroom. Don’t get so wasted that you’re leaning over a disgusting bar toilet bowl for hours on end. This one is helpful for you and your girls — none of your friends want their night out wasted by having to hold your hair back as you puke. And you don’t need to be seen looking like the definition of a hot mess when you walk out at the end of the night, dried vomit on your cute shirt, your hair stringy, and looking like you’re about to hook up with death.

Tip generously. Especially if you plan on returning. You will learn that building a friendship with your bartender will be one of the most important relationships of your college career. No, but seriously, being buddy-buddy with the bartenders can only be a good thing. Not only will they make your drinks extra strong, but you’ll usually get free drinks and shots out of it, and they’ll also notice you even when it’s super crowded. Not to mention they make for some pretty great conversation at the end of the night.

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. Like, everyone just HAS to see my nipples. Need I go on?

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 (“Wait, you poop twice a day? I poop twice a week!”) and everyone (“How do you not want to see your dad naked? He’s hot!”). 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 (or puked in your closet and played dumb the next morning), 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?

[This story was originally posted by Amanda - Reed.]

Likey? Don’t worry, there are plenty more faves where this came from.

Ahh, the blackout. These words have become oh-so-familiar over the past two years I’ve spent at this fine university. Sunday mornings – Gatorade and a McDonald’s breakfast sandwich in hand – I sit in my living room with my roommates, attempting to piece together the events from the night before. Looking through pictures, decoding unintelligible text messages sent to the cute guy from Calculus, my friend apologizing for puking on my shoes or stealing my pizza before I had a chance to get the door.

I can’t be mad at them though, or even blame them. Sometimes the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol takes over and there is no turning back. They are no longer the same person and are going to do things they wouldn’t normally do. Like the infamous girl-on-girl makeout sesh which is now plastered all over Facebook.

But like they taught you in elementary school, it’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt. And recently, that person was me.

My boyfriend and I have been together for over two vomit-includingly cute years. We moved in together in August to a new apartment where he makes me dinner after a long night at work, and we’ve even talked marriage.

We were the stereotypical happy couple until about two weeks ago during a blackout sorta night.

All of my friends were finally back in town before this spring (spring? There’s two feet of snow outside) semester started, so naturally we had to celebrate get wasted. After a long night of cheap vodka and too many shots at the bar, we went back to my friend’s apartment for afties. Just another successful night.

That is, until I realized that my boyfriend was missing and I had no idea where he was. I started roaming around the apartment. I looked in the kitchen, then the bathroom. Nothing. Finally, I peeked my head into my friend’s bedroom and there he was. Naked. On top of a girl. Who was also naked.

Naturally, I flipped the eff out. I screamed, I stormed over to the bed and pulled him off of her. I stared at him, anger bubbling up inside of me; his eyes were glazed, he was falling over, and he had no idea where he was. My boyfriend was beyond blacked out.

The rest of the night got a little hazy. I went crazy, taking justice into my own hands. Literally. The next thing I knew, I was handcuffed in the back of a cop car, blowing a .34 BAC (classy, I know) and being charged with domestic assault (apparently some neighbors called the cops to file a noise complaint). Not my finest moment. After I got out and was able to talk to my boyfriend again (sans fists), I demanded answers. But got nothing. He was blacked out the entire time; he didn’t remember being at the bar, going back to the apartment, or even how he ended up with a black eye and a fat lip. (Yeah, I totally JWowwed his ass. I was angry!)

And this fact alone has left me completely torn and unable to eat or sleep. My boyfriend betrayed my trust and really broke my heart. He sent me into a fit of rage I’ve never known before and made a fool out of me.

But can I really blame him for something that happened when he was blackout drunk?
Something that he doesn’t even remember doing?
Can that even be considered cheating?
Do I forgive him?

I honestly don’t know what to think.

The thing about this situation is that everything is not black and white. It would have been so much easier to just dump him and walk away if he was going behind my back on purpose. But he wasn’t. And while nothing technically happened (they didn’t have sex), it scares the shiz out of me to think what would have happened if I hadn’t walked in. It disgusts me to think about my boyfriend being with someone else, or what he was saying to her while they were in bed, or how he ended up there in the first place.

I definitely blame my boyfriend for getting that drunk. Mostly because he always gets that drunk. I blame him for putting himself in that situation and for putting me in that situation. But I still don’t know if I can blame him for what he actually did. I can’t hold him more responsible for his actions than my friend who pukes on my shoes, or the friend who always steals my food when she comes home from the bar drunk. I know neither of them would intentionally hurt me when they’re sober, so is this really different?  I’ve never gotten into a fight with my boyfriend, let alone had to deal with something like this. Until this incident, I never had a reason not to trust him.

Is this a good enough reason?

I understand that to many of you this seems like such a simple answer, but I’m seriously stuck. I love my boyfriend and we have so much history. I honestly don’t know what to do. What do you think? Can blackout mistakes be forgiven?

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!).

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

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?

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 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]

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?