Who doesn’t love a good train wreck like Lindsay Lohan or Britney Spears? For us “ordinary folk” (those of us who wear Old Navy, drink PBR and dream of tetris being an Olympic sport) there’s nothing like a healthy dose of tabloid exploitation on those who live in (what at least appears to be) an alternate universe… where dogs wear juicy couture, cars come equipped with mini-bars, breasts double as flotation devices and pocket lint is laced with cocaine.

Is it true though? Or are the tabloids just running exaggerated fantasies to harpoon mass appeal? It’s hard to know because these grandiose lifestyles are perpetuated by the attention drawn to them (unless the celebrity is actually talented). Case in point — the Kardashian sex tape.

Bad publicity is good publicity, I suppose… especially for the venues that become associated with celebrity attendance (who doesn’t want to go to places where you might see a rockstar in a bar fight or catch Paris Hilton stripping down to… well… a slightly more naked version of her usual self?).

When talking about club publicity, nothing turns up the temp on a particular venue more than the drug habits of the celebrities. The scandalous behaviors of one Miss Britney Spears has made headlines for a variety of clubs in New York including an all time personal favorite, Marquee. Yes, she has been caught using drugs in the public bathrooms all around town and she’s not the only one. The question then becomes, of course, how many drugs are being done in these places? Certainly you run a high risk (pun intended) of being caught abusing drugs if you are a celebrity, but what about us ordinary folk? Are drugs swimming through the clubs as the tabloids would have us believe? Read More »

With only one month left until graduation it looked like I had a pretty good chance of being able to say that I had never pissed the bed while drunk. Well there goes that.

On Tuesday night I decided to go out with the ladies—no biggie, it’s happened before. But here’s the catch—I’ve never taken three weeks off from drinking before (since the start of college). I know, I know—“how sad”—wutevs. Anyways, sadly—but true—6 beers later and I was smashed. Cheapest night out I’ve had in a while, I’ll tell you what!

So I left the bar around 2:20a.m.—maybe?—and jumped into bed with my boy. All was good, the room was spinning only slightly, and before I knew it I was passed out and apparently in a drunken coma.

7:00a.m. rolled around and I awoke to the sun blazing in my eyes and a moderate size puddle underneath my bare booty. My first thoughts were that the dog had done it. Keep in mind I was at my boyfriend’s apartment and he had done me the favor of dog-sitting while I went out and got “crazy” with the ladies. Read More »