If any of you are able to fight through the pain and read my column every week, you'll remember my brief mention of alcohol last Monday. I focused mainly on bragging and only dedicated about 200 words to the subject.

Something happened underneath my window this weekend that convinced me to spend a little more time on the time-honored teenage tradition that is copious alcohol consumption:

It's 3 a.m. I have a cold.

I am woken from my snotty, drooly slumber by a high-pitched screeching sound reverberating off the walls of the paved courtyard (parking lot) beneath my window. Puzzled, I peek between my plastic blinds to see a sloppy blonde in a mini dress climbing into the front seat of a BMW. Her boyfriend (presumably) stumbles after her and blocks his lady friend from closing the door on him.

"I'm done! I'm done! I'm so done!" yells the woman, prompting several windows in the surrounding area to slam shut.

"Give me my keys! Give me my keys! I am so done! SO DONE!"

The next hour is filled with drunken slurring and mindless babble on the part of the sloshed bimbo, interrupted every so often by the roars and howls of her “classy” and potentially abusive man friend.

It ends only when a disgruntled mother yells at the couple from a nearby balcony, informing them that their persistent careless shouts have woken her infant… twice.

This behavior is not uncommon at my apartment complex. I live only a hop, skip and a jump from campus, and am graced by predominantly college-age neighbors. Now, I was warned for before I received my acceptance letter that college kids love to drown themselves in Jose Cuervo and do body-shots off their fraternity brothers, but no one ever made clear why.

I have never seen a night of binge drinking end well - EVER. Have you ever heard a conversation on the escalator that went like this?:

"Oh gosh, Trisha, Last night sure was fun!"

"You bet your bum, Barbie, especially when I held your hair back while you wretched into Tom's toilet!"

"Only it wasn't a toilet… It was his roommate's sink! Hahaha!"

"That'll be fun to clean up!"

Or how about this?:

"Gosh, Todd, Becky sure was into you last night! Didn't she lose six rounds of beer pong?"

"Golly gee willikers, Dexter, she sure did! Lucky for me, it's hard to say ‘no’ when you don't even remember your middle name!"

I can understand a few beers with friends at a bar, or even taking shots every time Jim from "The Office" gives a knowing side-glace to the camera, but willingly holding your nose as you funnel gallons of piss-water down your throat, just so you don't remember anything the next morning, is ridiculous.

How is that fun?

I can't even count the number of phone calls I've gotten from panicked friends who did something incredibly stupid in the name of Captain Coke.

Another story comes from a high school party that was thrown at someone's house while their parents were away:

A well-mannered girl in her early teens laid on the floor as a gaggle of her friends crowded around. She whined as one of her companions shoved a cell phone to her ear.

"Tell him!" one of them shouted.

The girl put her hand to the phone and spilled her heart out to the boy on the other line.

"I love you, but why don't you ever call? Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. No, I love you. I can't. No, I'm not… I'm not… I'm not drunk. I hate you. I hate you. Okay, I love you, bye."

Words spilled forth without filter and her eyes drooped as she fell asleep, forgetting to hang up the phone. In the distance, a couple puked in unison on the kitchen floor, a softball star knocked her head on a brick wall in the backyard, and fourteen co-eds took shots of cheap syrupy vodka.

Fun.

I'll never pretend to understand, but hear this:

The next time you feel like sloshing through a parking lot with a bottle of Sour Apple Schnapps tucked under your arm, remember that there might be someone peeking through their plastic blinds, scratching down notes.