I frantically searched for my phone in my mess of blankets. Must make it stop ringing before head explodes. “Hello,” I croaked when I found it, barely able to get the words out of my parched mouth.

“We are ridiculous,” Sara groaned from the other end, sounding equally as down for the count as me.

“This needs to stop,” I agreed, as I knocked over the glass of water on my nightstand. The glass of water I had meant to down before I passed out with my clothes still on (somehow I took my contact lenses out, go me!).

Yet again Sara and I had gone out agreeing we wouldn’t drink a lot, and yet again some kind stranger had bought us round after round of shots. And we accepted (because I’m pretty sure there’s a law that says you can’t turn down free alcohol). And yet again we were paying for it; and regretting it.

So, we decided we’d go two full weeks without drinking. Two weeks proving we could have fun without going out and going crazy. Two weeks without waking up with pounding headaches and feeling like we need to stay in bed the entire day. Two weeks without having to call each other first thing in the morning to find out exactly what happened the night before and wondering just how big of fools we had made of ourselves. We are getting too old for this ridiculousness. We wanted to see if we could go two weeks without drinking at all. Read More »

The weekend is over. You still feel hungover. You have no idea where all your money went. And where is that other shoe? I mean, how the hell did you get home with only one shoe? Ugh, and now you have to be up and chipper for that damn internship that doesn’t pay you anything anyway. Not that you do anything there. You just sit around waiting for someone to give you something to do while you refresh Facebook/CollegeCandy every 5 minutes.

Yeah, it all really sucks, but let’s be honest….you still look a whole lot better than this.

What the hell happened to Madonna? Her face is sinking in! And look at those scary arms! I wonder if her baseball boyfriend turned her on to the ‘roids?

Poor lady. All that marriage drama and weird religion bullsh*t is really taking its toll on the pop superstar. She used to be a fashion/sex/music icon and now…now, all she is doing is making me feel a whole lot better about my Monday-morning-under-eye-circles.

Thanks, Madge!

[Photo courtesy of TheSuperficial.com. Love it!]

So, you met a hottie out on the town. Against your better judgment (because you can imagine what your mom would say if she knew what you were doing), you went home with him. And it was fun. Really fun. Your clothes are strewn around the room and if you weren’t so exhausted from the marathon romp session, you would be a bit more worried about where the hell your underwear was at the moment.

You pass out as the sun begins to peek its way out from behind the tapestry haphazardly hung over the window, the gent’s arm wrapped around your waist.

Then you wake up. You turn over the boy has his back to you. He’s snoring. You run to the bathroom to pee, trying not to wake him up, but hoping at the same time that you do. After all, it’s sorta awkward; you can’t just leave without him getting up. That would be weird.

You come back into the bed (after searching frantically in the bathroom for some mouthwash/gum and fixing your hair/makeup so you still look fresh) and he stirs. You make a joke about how tired you are and throw yourself into the bed. Random conversation ensues and most likely includes discussion of hangovers, how much you drank last night and how that water you chugged before bed was just divine.

And then….what? You know what you want to do. You want to have morning sex. Who doesn’t? Morning sex is the best way to start the day. (Some people think Wheaties is the breakfast of champions, but you and this boy both know the truth.) It is pretty much a given at this point, but neither of you really know how to broach the subject, mostly because you are both sober now and things are slightly awkward.

Read More »

Mmmm shots. I love em. I love SoCo and Lime. I love Lemon Drops. I love whiskey. I even, sometimes, love Tequila. They burn when they go down, but they feel oh-so-good for the rest of the night. Not to mention the fact that they make me feel sexier, totally improve my dance moves (right?) and are just a fabulous way to bond with rando’s at the bar.

And then…the morning sets in.
Hellooooo hangover.

What the hell? Why create something so great that turns into something so…painful? If only there were shots out there that would be totally delicious and wonderful but not cause my room to spin/head to pound/body to crave bacon the next morning.

Good news!
I know you won’t believe me when I tell you this, but there are! Just read on, little ladies. Read More »

Alcohol is one hell of a substance. It tastes sorta gross, costs sorta a lot and makes you do things that you obviously would have decided against sober. More often than not, a night of drinking leaves me with a hangover and a WTF moment that makes me want to crawl under the covers and never come out.

Like that time I let my best friend make his way downtown (if you get what I mean) and my other friends caught us mid sex act.

Yeah, just like that time.

My best friend is a guy who we’re going to call Dean. Once upon a time, actually right when I first started dating my now very ex-boyfriend, Dean accompanied me to a party held by another one of my friends. A casual house affair with lots of liquor because, well, that’s how we do. My new boyfriend at the time decided not to come me with me to the party because he didn’t know anyone that would be there. So Dean came with me because, he’s my best friend…and also because there would be booze.

After way too many shots the party started to die down and the guests stumbled out. I was having difficulty standing, so the party host asked me and Dean to stay over. Dean was slowly fading as well, so we took her up on the offer.

Did I mention that when I’m drunk I get pretty touchy feely? Or that I was pretty pissed off at my boyfriend for not coming? Yeah, still does not excuse what happens next. Read More »

Dear Friends/Family/That Random Taxi Driver That Picked Me Up and Took Me Home After Finding Me Face First On The Sidewalk,

Sometimes I like to drink. A lot. And on those occasions I may or may not (okay, always) do stupid things. It is not me, you see; it is the alcohol. In fact, it is not until the morning after when I am chugging Gatorade and trying to get my bed to stop spinning that I even realize exactly what went down. And I feel bad – really, I do. So, I want to take this opportunity to apologize for it all.

To The Bartender: I am sorry that I hopped over the bar and drank beer directly from the tap. And attempted to spray my friends with Tonic Water. And knocked over that giant stack of glasses….

To My Best Friend: I am sorry that I bit your hand when you tried to take my falafel away from me. Yes, I know I said we would share. I am also sorry that I stole your shoe…and drank a beer out of it. And that I peed in your garbage can. Oh, wait. That was your sock drawer? My bad.

To My Friends: I am sorry that I called your girlfriend “Gorilla”…to her face (but I am more sorry that you are dating such a mess). Sorry that I brought that random dude back to the apartment and accidentally took him to your room. I will wash your sheets…and rug. Oh, and your teddy bear. Read More »

Being hungover generally sucks, lets face it. The only place I want to be (and I’m sure this goes for you as well) is in bed, with the blinds closed, watching cheesy made for TV movies and eating my favorite hangover foods.

Unfortunately, my life is not very conducive to being hungover, and forces me to inevitably be anywhere but in bed on those days when I swear off drinking for good. If you’ve ever been hungover, chances are you’ve been forced to be somewhere you absolutely did not want to be at the time. I present the short list of the worst places to be while hungover. Read More »

Summer. What a delicious season. From the fruit to the fruity cocktails, everything seems so much fresher in the warm summer sun (well, everything besides our under-arms). Everything seems so much easier (besides the monthly bikini waxes). Everything is just so much…better (except the condition of our intensive-care inducing sunburns).We love the summer; really, we do. But, just like the killer hangover that comes after an awesome night of Sake Bombing, summer does have some downsides. Our writers weigh in on their least favorite parts of the season:

Sarah – NYU: Being drenched with sweat before I even leave my apartment in the morning. Gross.

Stacy Kidd: The weather; it just loves to pour buckets on me when the forecaster predicts sun, and conversely make me sweat buckets when rain is expected. Fantastic.

Diana Vilibert: Cute summer dresses that end in discomfort, thanks to inner-thigh chafing. (What, just me?)

Kate Bean: Sweating in my knee pit…or wait… is it “leg pit”? Read More »