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Music

That's So Ravin': Instagrama Drama

Party tips for ya, free of charge.

Every music genre has its seedy underbelly, a world of unspoken tricks of the trade and a code that helps keep things alive (no matter how dirty and scandalous it may appear from the outside). Our That's So Ravin' columnists have been down… and around. Worldwide party purveyors and dancefloor makers offer up some party tips for ya, free of charge.

Dear Ravin,
I was at this party last weekend and my boyfriend was out of town and I was so wasted. I made out with this guy that we both know and people were taking photos of us making out and shit. I know my boyfriend is gonna be hella mad at me and I don't care about this other guy—he's a sleaze. So what should I do?
Shit.crap.shit, Ft. Meyers.

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Dear Shit.crap.shit,

Um. If people were taking photos, and it's a dude you both know, my guess is that your boyfriend already knows about it. If he doesn't, then surprise-surprise, you have the opportunity to come clean before he hears it from someone else. Hopefully he'll understand this time. Meanwhile, don't hang out with sleazy dudes and chill on the getting wasted while your boyfriend's not around. Not a good look.

Dear Ravin,

What's up with everyone standing around all the damn time on the dancefloor? Move muthafuckas!

Benj, Austin.

Dear Benj,

Amen, my brotha. Amen.

Need to text? Slip it to the sidelines. Want to take an InstaVineTweetChatRoulette? Take the damn photo, and put it in your pocket. Upload at the bar.

The dancefloor is to the party as the pulpit is to the preacher. And as Midnight Star so eloquently put it: "No Parking."

Got a burning question for Ravin? Email her with your thoughts, dilemmas, and all-out rants at ravin.samoan@thu.mp