The digital clock on the bedside table is blinking red as the alarm clock clicks into a MIDI version of Chris Brown’s “Move That Booty.” Calc III textbook and papers strewn across the floor, half a fifth of Triple Distilled perched on a stack of records, a pair of familiar pants wedged in the gap between the bed and wall. Outside the window, the air is slate-gray and damp, the lawn already littered with red Solo cups from early-morning tailgaters.

Angela Cesere
Fortunately delible tattooing. (BEN SIMON/Daily)
Angela Cesere
Working the walk of shame. (ALEX DZIADOSZ/Daily)

Sleep slowly seeps from your eyes as you take stock of the situation: Where am I? Did I have sex last night? Was it good? Would I care?

There are many ways you could have gotten into this situation – a long week, too little clothing, too much tequila, a combination of the above. The following is a laundry list of potential scenarios and combinations thereof.

a) “Oh my God, where are my panties?”

The one-night stand

So maybe you didn’t sleep with him. But you still slept over, and now walking through the Diag in your barn-dance outfit proves much more daunting than the 3 a.m. stumble to his Packard Street house last night.

Wash your face. The raccoon look is a dead giveaway that you’ve been out. And probably being a slooty-sloot.

Find your clothes. Sometimes this is a problem. To avoid unseemly glares by passers-by, make sure what you’re wearing on bottom matches your shoes. It doesn’t matter if you’re wearing a miniskirt and stiletto pumps in line at Espresso Royale when everyone else is trying to make it to lecture on time – what looks worse is if you’re wearing borrowed lacrosse shorts and fuck-me boots.

Don’t look guilty. Maybe you’re just dressed up for an interview . at D

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