In this episode, the Lohans FINALLY get to Vegas! They didn’t fly there in a private jet though, which I’m gonna admit was a bit of a let down (I expected some major control issues and perhaps Dina’s debut as a pilot), and there was no liquor fueled dramz. While the episode was age appropriately absent of hard booze, it was heavy on the whine.

For some reason, Ali chooses to adopt an even more nasally tone for this 25 minute tribute to ungratefulness. She complains in this obnoxious tantrum pending voice about all of the trials life has delivered to her. Like the fact that she, her awesome brother and (arguably) cool mom have to live in a tricked out penthouse at the Palms while she records her album. I guess it gets pretty taxing when you’re attending all of these exhausting “Welcome to Vegas!” parties (with delicious looking cake) thrown just for you by the f*#king Maloufs.

Ugh, sorry about that. Anyways, Dina introduces Ali (who is wearing a gorgeous but way too mature minidress) to a bunch of important 30 something guys that she wants Ali to “get comfortable with.” Dina baby, they’re mentally undressing your 14 year old — not very comfort inducing, I would say. The men all flirt with Ali while she fidgets, present her the aforementioned cake (note to self, go buy something with chocolate as soon as I’m done writing) and begin an episode long tradition of complimenting Ali and promising her she’s the next big thing. Read More »

At this point, as I’m sitting here on my couch, nearing the end of day 4 without drinking, I am starting to really believe that I may not be an alcoholic. Granted, I am sitting here eyeing the beer that is in my roomie’s hand. My other roomie, who is on this mission with me, is undoubtedly eyeing it, too.

I spend most Sundays, and yes, even EASTER, entirely preoccupied with a predictable hang over. I lay around in my bed with multiple glasses of water. I check Myspace religiously and later feel accomplished when I gather the strength to order in food.

Today, clearly, was different. I woke up and started to get sh*t done! The trouble, however, even amidst my productivity, was the fact that today was Easter. Something about religious holidays, particularly those on which I typically participate in a family gathering of some sort, tend to make me want to drink. You see, I come from an Irish family. I hope that that says enough. Read More »

If there’s one thing in this world I know, it’s this: You gotta know your limit.

I don’t mean like how smart you are or how hard to push yourself when you’re working out or anything trivial like that. I’m talking about knowing how much you can drink.

One day a few months ago, a friend invited me out for a night of dancing and fun. I thought, hey, yes, I like dancing and fun. This will be excellent.

Cut to me four hours later in a blackout state, still dancing but question mark else? I don’t know because I was f*&cking wasted.

All I know is, I threw up in the bathroom of that club. And then I threw up in a diner afterwards. Twice. And then I think I took a cab home and went to sleep, but I know for sure that four hours later, I woke up and puked on and off for five hours, into my toilet, into plastic grocery bags, and all over myself. In fact, I vommed so much I burst a blood vessel, giving myself what I have affectionately termed zombeye. Zombeye, a bright red bloody eye, lasted two entire weeks. Read More »

In a dark, moderately dirtball Irish pub with adorable bartenders straight from Ireland, I am approached by a liquor promoter. He’s pretty good-looking, obviously a flirt because who else takes a job as a promoter, and so begins his attempt as he hands me a keychain:”Who do you get? Who do people always say you look like?”

I reply the truth, no one, because no one even thinks I look like myself after changing the hair. But the promoter has an opinion,

“Okay, so, you definitely don’t have some features she has, which is a good thing, but—”

Is he serious? I am intrigued by the obvious trap he is setting for himself. Why is it that dumb must always accompany pretty?

“—did you watch Blossom? I swear, you’re a post nose-job Blossom…. No, it’s a good thing!”

Was it really? I spent the rest of the evening staring at my nose in the mirror behind the bar and glaring at the promoter, who at the end of the evening thought he had a shot at seeing me at his ‘gig’ next weekend. Read More »

Days as a Freshman: 167
Mood: frozen

“Grace, you’re soaked” Rebecca tugged on my shirt and spoke into my ear, keeping her eyes on Justin and Sasha. The tension between them was palpable; I knew she could feel it too. “Why don’t you at least change your shirt? You can wear one of mine.”

I didn’t want to leave the living room. I didn’t want to leave Justin alone with Sasha. But Rebecca was right. I was practically dripping alcohol. Like I had just jumped into a pool full of Jack Daniels.

“Let’s just run into a room. I’ll wear my long sleeve and you can wear the camisole I have under it. It’s fine.” Rebecca kept pulling on my arm, her jitters obvious in the repetition of her actions. Even tipsy, Rebecca couldn’t let her guard down. She knew something was off. She knew something was crackling in the air, and she wanted to leave before the match was lit.

“I have to…” I looked up at Justin. “I have go change.”

“What?” Justin blinked. He looked at me as though it surprised him I was still standing there.

“I have to go change. Everyone spilled stuff on me.” Read More »

It’s about 8 AM on a Sunday and you’re half-awake, rolling over in bed to get comfortable again.

“Uhh, where am I? Sh*t, who is this guy? Where is my underwear?”

Another blacked-out night on the town. No shame, I’ve had my fair share, but from time to time I wonder if I had equal chances of waking up in a ditch in Jersey. As a former bartender (and current bar-hopper) I’ve gotten to know a lot of people and their drinking habits. As a result I picked up a lot of ways to keep the boozin’ under control.

There is obviously the option to watch the clock and literally make sure you don’t exceed your alotted dph (drinks per hour). 12 oz. of beer, 4 oz. of wine, and 1 oz. of 80 proof liquor all take about an hour for your body to metabolize, so you can go ahead and do the math on that versus how long you plan on drinking and how good you want to feel.

This won’t work at a party, but if you’re at a bar, do not open a tab. It’s a fabulous way to drink too much and blow more money than you intended. This is my personal downfall. I recommend using cash. You can bring a limited amount, forcing you to stop when it’s gone. Although, if you make the bartenders run your card every single time you buy a round, they might stop serving you anyway. Read More »

Days as a Freshman: 152
Mood: trying to remember

“Grace, you came.”

Justin managed to push himself into our little encased corner, his eyes falling to the plastic cups in our hands.

“I was invited, wasn’t I?” I smiled up at him, trying to loosen the stern expression that had taken over his features. “Want a sip?”

“What’s in that?” Justin’s eyes flickered from my glass to Rebecca’s. “Did you make that yourself?”

“Sasha made it for us.” Rachel took another sip of the dark liquid, her glass already halfway drained. Obviously, she had some practice in the fine art of drinking liquor with ease. “Jack and coke. Want a sip?”

The bass on the stereo began to thump louder, the packed bodies in the room moving and swaying to the new beat. I took a small sip from my glass, doing my best to keep my mouth from curling in beginner’s disgust. The liquor was strong, cutting through the soda with a smoky, hard taste.

“Sasha made those?!” Justin had to yell. “Where is he now?” Read More »

Billionaire Margarita             Bloody Maria             Jalisco Express             Caipri-Julio

       DJ’s Delight         La Paloma Suprema       Top Shelf Long Island         Morning Breeze

We’ve all been there… sworn off drinking tequila ever again after a hard night out and a few too many peer-pressure-induced shots of Cuervo Gold. But the truth is, it’s not tequila’s fault. It’s Jose’s.

For years Cuervo has been literally shoving Gold Mixto down our throats and calling it tequila. A true tequila is made from 100% agave and often aged. A gold mixto tequila is usually made with less than 50% agave, blended with sugar water, non-aged and colored with caramel. It is the mixto that will make your throat squelch and mouth water with only a wiff.

Today there are a more than a handful of 100% agave tequilas on the market that aim to remove the stigma that has followed tequila around like an annoying little step-brother. Brands like Patron, Casa Noble and Don Julio (yes, Cuervo does too) offer incredibly smooth and flavorful Blanco, Anejo and Reposado- 100% agave tequilas.

Whether you sip it, shoot it, or mix it… it’s time to give tequila another chance. Here are 8 cool ways you have most certainly never had tequila before. (Click on a drink above to see how it’s made)