Alcohol is my oyster. It is my aphrodisiac. It turns me on. It makes me want to hump anything on two legs (and the occasional wall). Give me a few Vodka/Soda’s and I am like a frat boy in heat.

Grrr.

That means that, against my better judgment, I often let my loins do the talkin’ and follow them wherever (and with whomever) they decide. And usually they decide to head home for a little intoxicated fun. Unless they are over-ruled by my belly, in which case we make a pit-stop for breadsticks en route to the fun.

And fun we have.

But drunk sex isn’t all “Ooo”s, “Ahhh”s, and “OH MY GOD!”s… Yes, there are some downsides to these late night trysts. If you are one to think before you act (unlike me and my unruly libido), you may want to consider some of the pros and cons to Not-So-Sober Sex before you head home with a gent.

Pro: Your inhibitions go out the window.
Con: Your ability to tell if someone is really attractive goes out the window.

Pro: It feels (so) good
Con: The motion of the ocean might make you hurl

Pro: You try a bunch of crazy sh*t
Con: You try (and fail at) a bunch of crazy sh*t. Read More »

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Seriously, who gives out their number anymore?

I remember having a drunken bonding moment with a really cool guy in college a few years ago, and he asked for my number. I asked for his screen name instead. I mean, IM-ing someone is so much more casual, and so much less stressful. You don’t have to feel your heart thumping through your chest as the phone rings. Is he going to answer? Is it going to go to voicemail? Is he blocking me? What do I say if he picks up?

With IM, you can see if he’s away or idle, and choose your own adventure from there. You can leave a casual “Just wanted to say I had a great time last night” IM, rather than starting a phone call with the same line and then struggling to make small talk. Likewise, you can make small talk behind the shield of the IM window, where he can’t hear your voice crack, and where you can copy and paste the whole convo to all of your girlfriends and get advice while you try to weed out his intentions.

And then came Facebook. The social network has made quite the mark on the dating scene. There’s the poke, which can be viewed as casual, flirty, or creepy. There’s the “it’s complicated” label for the relationship you’re in (finally- you can be open about having a f*ck buddy without warding off the rest of the male population!); and of course, there’s the wall post, which makes the casual IM seem like the awkward phone call of yesteryear. Read More »

That guy you brought home last night? Let’s just say he wasn’t lookin’ so good this morning. Not only do you not want to have to experience that face again, but the thought of marching this turd past your roommates is making your stomach churn (or is that the whiskey?).

Well, you don’t have to. Not with The Ugly Bag. Just throw that sh*t over his head and you are home free. And at a measly $1.85 you are gonna wanna stock up. You know… Welcome Week is coming.

We have all seen those mismatched couples from time to time, the beautiful, could-be model, and her boyfriend - who compared to her has a striking resemblance to Steve Buscemi. Yes, we’ve seen those lovebirds, and while there is a moment of silent “thank God that girl is off the market” (because, sometimes it’s a relief to see the hot ones are out of the competition pool) there is also a question of how the hell he scored such a pretty girl?

Well, the secrets out. According to a recent study by lifescience.com, women date and/or marry less attractive men not for their piggy banks (or maybe not just for their piggy banks…) but because men are found to be much more supportive and committed to a woman when she is more attractive than him. Read More »

While perusing (and by “perusing” I mean obsessively checking and re-checking) Facebook for the fourth time yesterday, I noticed that no one had done anything since the last time I logged in (an hour before). In a fit of never ending boredom that made signing off impossible, I decided to look at pictures of me.

Of the 300ish photos of me, 250 involved drinking and 249 of those involved me making some sort of awful face. Not like “I wasn’t ready for the camera” awful; more like, “I am going to make the ugliest face I can think of” awful. The sad part is that I can distinctly remember taking most of those pictures and consciously making the faces that are now staring back at (and horrifying) me.

I even giggled as I made one of my uglier faces and poked my head into what would have been a cute picture of friends. Why did I ever think that was a good idea? Read More »

Oh, alcohol. How I love thee. You make my nights full of bad dancing, falling off my shoes, and thinking that guy across the room looks like Christian Bale. You make it easier to talk to him, and slur out sweet nothings such as “Let’s get out of here. I’ll pay for the cab.”

But, alcohol, you make me wish I never locked lips with the likes of you when I wake up the next day with that distinct morning after taste in my mouth, an exploding head and a not so attractive man (with nothing on except a sock) sleeping next to me. Things like “where am I,” or “what is his name again” run through my foggy head, and I realize that this is not the best way to find Mr. Right.

Drunken hook-ups. We’ve all had ‘em. Most of them, we want to forget. It’s totally hot in the moment and then … you wake up the next morning with makeup all over your face only to realize that there is no way you were the porn star you thought you were. And a relationship afterwards? Forgeddaboutit.

My favorite personal story of my own drunken hook-up took place during my freshman year of school. I woke up, I opened my eyes and I had absolutely no idea where the fuck I was. I lifted up the sheet, and oh my God—I was naked. At this moment I swore off alcohol forever (didn’t work). I just knew I was probably lying next to a forty year old divorcee with a massive beer belly and long toenails. I took a few deep breaths, counted very slowly to ten, and rolled over.

Read More »