It's Tuesday night, and the hottest place to be in New York is Whole Foods, and you're drunk

In the bathroom, they're playing "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" followed immediately by "Just Like a Dream" and you can't help but shake your stream to the beat. Ignore the guy washing his hands, and dance your way out the door. You don't have to wash your hands this time, because you'll be visiting this pine-scented dance floor at least two more times tonight.

The problem is that you had a couple of drinks upstairs, reconnecting with some old friends - not old friends in the sense that you laugh and hug and reminisce about old times, old friends in the sense that you need four beers to get through the half hour you spend together.

Normally you'd ignore Whole Foods and it's snooty ass sundries as you head out the revolving doors, but those drinks have made you too weak to resist the siren song of organic foodstuffs.

So you're stumbling around the aisles, cursing at Ranier cherries, and suddenly you realize that you've got no fewer than four bags of chips in your green, recycled-plastic basket. You see, Whole Foods knows that you can only take so much healthy stuff before you need to splurge on the bad-for-you goodies. And there's lots of the bad stuff. You're inebriated, so you want two-bite brownies and two-bite macaroons and two-bite cupcakes, all made with whole wheat and love.

You're not the only one with the naughty tendencies. The 32 girls in front of you all pause in front of the chocolate oasis stationed directly in front of the checkout. Drop your groceries off at home and hop on the A train. Everyone's heading over to Trader Joe's for the afterparty.