Nick Hoffman has invited you to join MyTown!

MyTown Friend Request! Nick Hoffman has invited you to be their friend in MyTown, the world's most popular location-based social game. Join the fun and start building a town of your own today! Download MyTown for free! About Booyah: Booyah, headquartered in Palo Alto, Calif., is dedicated to creating new forms of entertainment to the masses by bringing together elements of the real world and the digital world. The entire development team draws its creativity not only from highly respected studios, including Blizzard Entertainment, Activision, EA, and Insomniac Games, but also from a vast array of industries, such as Semi-Conductor, Consumer Web, and the Social Gaming space. The Company is financed by Kleiner Perkins Caufield & Byers' iFund. Please add no-reply@booyah.com to your address book to ensure our emails reach your inbox! You're receiving this e-mail because a friend would like you to join them in MyTown. To stop receiving these e-mails from us, unsubscribe. Report abuse at abuse@booyah.com

This was pretty much me all night last night. I'm so embarrassed that my coworkers had to watch. I also sprained my ankle and lost part of my fingernail last night too. FML.

TVM Mythbusters: You decide.

You know it’s a good weekend when……
• You wake up in a bed with four people, two of whom immediately ask, “Where are my pants?” (It takes at least 10 minutes for both parties to find pants).
• You don’t know where any of your belongings are, including your backpack full of personal items and also, your pants.
• You get up out of bed to find said personal belongings, but you can barely walk because you’ve mysteriously injured the entire left side of your body.
• Your friend looks at you and shouts, “Wow, nice vampire action on your neck right now.” (And you then have to wear turtlenecks to work for a week).
• Your sunglasses have only one lens in them, and you find the other chilling out in your bra.
• As the day progresses, you discover infinitely more bruises on your body, including two giant goose-eggs on the back of your head.
• You find out you lost your friend’s backpack, which was empty, but you insisted on carrying around anyway, swearing up and down it had all of your shit in it.
• Your hair is still wet in the morning and you realize you had a “hot tub” party in the bathtub of your condo, alone. (But you did call and invite guests to your “hot tub,” even though it didn’t necessarily exist).
• You discover pictures of yourself in places you don’t remember being, drinking concoctions of liquor that should never, ever be mixed together, but then your camera turns off and blows up because it turns out you slammed it in to 1,000 things and it is now officially broken. (Oh, they also depict you wearing black pleather leggings and a zebra-print tank top. All the while you're wondering, "Who let me leave the house in this fashion faux-pas?")
• You show up to your condo at 10 a.m. explaining your whereabouts and the night you spent with a bachelor party group. Your “hot pants” are definitely MIA.
• You have to ask “True of false: We ate three large pizzas among the 5 of us last night?”



Which are true and which are false, you’ll never know. But it sure sounds like a party, eh?? Maybe next time you'll join us....

Acting Like a Professional

Is it ok to play beer pong, play landmines, and take shots of vodka with your HR rep? Is it ok to wake up on a coworkers floor? Is it ok that a coworker threw up on me last night?

Kerry Ingredients, North America: Where young professionals are made.

St. Patty's Day is Officially Over Until 2011

Sitting at work in the County Limerick conference room Monday morning, we were handed our monthly calendars with upcoming work projects, customer visits, and national holidays. I immediately crossed off those three words: St.-Patty's-Day. My coworker Adam looks over and asks, "Why did you cross that off?" I simply replied, "Because it's done until next year." At this point I needed no other explanation. My other coworker Kevin had passed me on the highway to work and already told me I was driving very slowly, with a blank stare on my face.

St. Patty's Day has always been my holiday of choice. It stands for all that is Irish, drunk, irresponsible, and embarrassing, but this year I had redefined what it meant to me (with the help of some friends of course). I thought having my first drink at noon was a late start compared to years past. We also chose a fifth of Absolute Vanilla as well, opting out of the bargain handle of Smirnoff because we didn't need that influence of all that vodka sitting around the house. We were off to a great start. Little did we know, some stains would came over with their own goodies, we would return for the handle of Smirnoff, and the shitshow would began. Toast to St. Patty!

After drinking a few shots of my Listerine and staring at a shower curtain for 5 minutes in the dark, I soon found that a short ride in a taxi was physically impossible. The bar was busy, crowded, full of the usual frat boys and hobags, drunks outside crying about their sisters fiances, but seemingly familiar to those of EL or AA. America lost an hour that night due to daylights savings time, I lost a few hours due to quite a few other things.

That's why we will jump to the end of the night. Time to go home. Time to be safe. Time to sleep. NOT EXACTLY. I received a call from a friend who lost her keys and invited her to come over. I didn't invite the 5 bean burritos and nachos in her purse though. Nevertheless, they were happily introduced to my tummy and all the vodka inside it. But wait, where was my other friend? He had been gone for way too long. Oh, he was passed out in a pile of towels in the workroom.

The next morning I woke up not really knowing exactly where I was. It happened before when I woke up in downtown EL but Chicago is a much larger jungle. I realized that I had passed out on the couch but my friends were sound asleep in a bed. After 10 unanswered calls, I saw a beer on the pool table, full. "What the hell, go ahead Erik," I said. "What a nice microbrew!" I told myself. The door opened. It was a Russian cleaner, there to clean up our hot sauce stains. I fled the scene in shame.

"What room are my friends in? They aren't answering my calls?" I tried and tried to just find an exit to the building, but there were none. They were all fire exits. It was like being in that Super Mario ghost level and you can't find the way out of the castle. I found a bathroom, sat on the toilet, drank my beer, and then cried. "What got me to this point?" (actually a dumb question, I knew the answer already). After getting my shit together I realized that I'm on the 2nd floor and I just needed a stairwell to get out. I walked outside to the gorgeous weather and cried again.

Well, if you are all wondering, I did find the way to my friends. At that point I needed a drink, so I drank the rest of the Belvidere for breakfast and once again toasted to St. Patty. "Until next year!"

I loved dancing for 24hrs straight. I loved being with great friends, and especially, reconnecting with my old roommate of two years. I loved being Irish for the day. But I only love it enough for it to happen once a year.

Cheers guys!

Taco Purse or Chx-Nug Purse: You Decide

"I need you to call me back right away. Like, seriously, right away."

It’s days like this, when I wake up to a frantic phone call from a friend explaining his coordinates (or lack of knowledge in said coordinates) in the city and his run-in with a Russian cleaner, that I really cherish my friends. Sure, we are sometimes overly ridiculous and refer to ourselves affectionately as the Hot Mess Express, but it goes much deeper than that. We are a creative, successful, savvy group of pals who would drop anything to come to each other’s aid. We can talk about nothing; we can talk about everything. But you better believe, there will always be a story to tell. (Even if it does entail a clove of garlic and a NYC condom.)

People we know are settled down, married, having kids, but does that stop us? Not a chance. “We are strong, independent women, we don’t need your help!” I’d take an outlandish weekend with my pals over any of that other stuff right now, any day. We’re young, and as you know, you only get to live this life once. I say go for the adventure. Do it while you can. Light it up and kick the shit out of it! No one says it better then my man DLR, "Some people take their candle and they burn it at both ends, you've heard that. Other people take their candle and they burn it in the middle. And I, I take a flame thrower to my candle. It's like 7 times the light in half the time, you know?"

For now, we will continue to be first class passengers on the HME, saving all of that other “grown-up stuff” for later. Professional jobs are work enough! So, while others are pondering whether to buy Pampers or Huggies or what to shove in the crock-pot for a quick dinner, there is an even bigger question lurking in the shadows…..

Would you rather wake up with tacos or chicken nuggets in your purse?

I thought so.

Vodka IS a Health Drink, I Don’t Care What You Say

As of late, and with 30 looming in the not-so-distant future, I have found myself focused on becoming healthier. Upon realizing my usual justification of “I teach dance two hours a day, which means I don’t really have to exercise” was just that, a justification, I have been attending spinning classes twice a week. I even recently splurged on a pair of SIDI Tork spin shoes. Yep, you heard it, spin shoes. Let’s face it, the shoes (and subsequent 2 pair of fab padded cycling shorts) allow me to feel as though I’ve made an investment, thus will keep me from quitting. (Another justification). It isn’t easy to spend an hour of my day peddling on a stationary bike in a sticky-sweaty room with a tiny bike seat shoved up my ass. BUT, I remain committed to my cause, and thanks to Spin-Monster Barb (and the cute guy that usually spins on the bike to my right), have really come to enjoy inflicting pain on myself in such ways.

Seed planted. Monetary investment made. Which takes me back to the root of this issue: getting healthy! Newsflash: exercising is not the only piece to this puzzle! One of the most difficult aspects of becoming healthier for me has been in the food and drink department. After a long day of working with smelly 12 year olds and an hour of spinning, do I really want to take the time to prepare a healthy meal? Not really, because by now I’m at the point of a ravenous beast and ready to eat the first thing I see when I open the refrigerator. And then I say, “STOP! Follow your plan, bake the fish, steam the veggies, and get on with it.” So I do. And it turns out to be rewarding.

So what’s the problem, you ask? It’s simple: to drink, or not to drink? Some cling to the opinion that a glass of red wine a day is good for you. Problem being, it’s pretty hard to have just one…. Others say drinking, especially for women approaching 30 and into their 30’s, should simply be avoided and can lead to X, Y, Z health issues. What’s a girl to do?? Here is my solution to this pressing question: vodka. And let me tell you why. It is the product of a staple vegetable, it contains no artificial colors or flavors, and it mixes well with other healthy drinks, ie- tomato juice. I think Hallmark summed up my adoration for vodka (and its importance in the food pyramid) in their FreshInk card that reads: If you want to get technical, vodka is practically a health drink if you just call it potato juice… which it really is, anyway.

(Another justification? You be the judge.)

This is a Test.

Gather up the troops! We're in the process of launching The Vodka Monologues as a collaborative effort right this very minute. Stay tuned for a blog that will make you question the mediocrity of your life, among other things...

Shit's gonna get weird.

And as always: God Bless Vodka.