Three-day weekends are a gift and a curse. A gift in the sense that you get a coveted extra day off and subsequent short work week moving forward. A curse in that you have an extra day to be the piece of shit that you are. Your body already hates you after a normal two-day weekend, but when you cycle in a third day to shampoo in some light beers, you’re staring a two-day hangover straight in the face.
And based on this week’s reader-submitted stories, there are going to be some brutal hangovers out there.
So, didn’t happen this weekend, but it all came full circle this past Friday. About a month ago we had a conference where people from our other branches came into our office to do team building, basically just getting hammered with one another. I’m 25, and one of my supervisors from the other office (35), happened to hit it off. Next thing I know she’s calling an uber in the morning before having to have a conference wrap up with the whole team. Fast forward to this Friday, we get a company wide email from my supervisor, announcing her pregnancy, with her husband, who I was also unaware of. I wasn’t dumb and we were safe, but the possibility put me into a a drunken stupor for the next 48 hours. I now sit at my computer hands sweating with my body in ruins. Help me.
No no no no no no no no. I don’t want to even confront this so let’s just please move on.
I went to NYC for the weekend. It was definitely supposed to be a weekend of heavy drinking with some peeps, but nothing could have prepared me for what I decided to do Sunday. At about 11am, I was in bed in my hotel, harboring a mild hangover. I figured my best bet was to just chill throughout the day so I could make my 11pm bus back to college/work (yes, I am the dumbass that schedules an 11pm bus). Well, chilling didn’t happen. At about 1pm I found myself having mimosas. At about 3pm, we got on a cab to Brooklyn, where my friends and I proceeded to drink about two bottles of wine each while enjoying the nice temperature outside. At about 7pm, we went to my friend’s house in Brooklyn and MY DRUNK PERSONALITY FUCKING DECIDED THAT WAS A GREAT TIME TO PARTAKE IN TWO DIFFERENT ILLICIT SUBSTANCES. Miraculously, I made it to my bus in Manhattan by 11pm, but then I was on a bus for about six hours HIGH OUT OF MY DAMN MIND, paranoid that this bus was gonna crash and I’d die with enough drugs/alcohol in my body to paralyze someone. Sure, physically I survived, but I got to be at work in about two hours and I still can’t sleep, my whole body is shaking, I have this weird bruise that might be a lethal blood clot on my leg and I feel the heart attack is incoming. Pray for me.
There’s something about a giant bus that always makes me nervous it’s going to tip over or crash. And when you’re hungover and/or still drunk, those feelings only amplify. Maybe just don’t do drugs moving forward.
Was about a week ago but had to submit
Went to DR for my friends wedding. I was best man. The first night I (and his entire family and brides family) go to the front of the resort to find him being arrested for buying weed. I volunteer to go to the station with him riding in the bed of a police pickup truck through the slums of Puerto Plata at 2am. After 3 hours of negotiating they let us go for $800. Bride calls off wedding when she finds out but dceides last minute to go through with it.
Photographers blood sugar crashes and he goes into a coma in the lobby of the resort.
Security accuses our friend of stealing a golf cart and goes through his room and steals some of his stuff. They continue to intimidate him and his wife for the remainder of the trip.
An old lady has a stroke onto my friend on the plane ride home. He thinks shes just having a nap onto his shoulder. She wasnt. Plane diverted to Pittsburg.
Quite the destination wedding.
Note to self: do not go to destination weddings in the Dominican Republic. Nice of the bride to go through with the wedding, though. This should go super well.
Went to an annual sporting event that adults participate in. It’s known for overall debauchery. Everyone is friendly sharing food, drinks, tent, cabin, or whatever else. Was responsible Friday night to prepare for playing the next day and the big party that follows the end of the sporting event. Proceeded to crack a beer at a reasonable hour of 9am on saturday. I was staying in a cabin with 8 other people. Fast forward to the evening after lots of whiskey, beer, jungle juice, and fireball shots, i’m dancing with a ridiculously hot guy (hello 6 pack!) we head back to the cabin and begin hooking up in the living room. A few friends (3) walk in (at different times) while we go at it (butt ass naked). After we were finished, we walked outside (with those same friends waiting on the porch) and got grilled on how it was & how big he was. Walked around the side of another cabin to go another round between some cars. Went to sleep at 4am, got up at 7am to drive the multiple hours home. Laid around all day, ordered delivery, got a ‘low balance’ alert from my bank, booked an appointment with my gyno for a UTI, went to bed early, and still took a sick day on Monday. Worth it – yes. But I’ll need a few days to recover.
Alright, then. I’m just going to say it – you’re way too comfortable with having sex in front of your friends. While yes, taking a sick day was the move, that’s literally the only thing you did wisely throughout the entire weekend.
I went to visit my mom in Atlanta, and my big in my sorority moved down close by there so we decided to meet up for some drinks. My mom lives in this beautiful apt above a shopping center, so we tried started our night there, and at the first bar we each got 3 tequila shots for free because the bartender was trying to get with my big. It wasn’t great though so we went to a few other places, had a drink at each one. My mom said she would drive us to buck head which is like an hour away, and we killed an entire bottle of wine in the car. We got there and I was significantly drunken than before, and people kept buying us drinks and shots at the bar, needless to say I blacked out. Black in against a ledge in the bar vomiting on the floor, not even in the bathroom, and called my mom to come get us. She said on the way home I stuck my head out the window and kept telling her what a great mom she is. My big woke up on the floor in my moms closet, and I woke up with my romper inside out with vomit inside of it.
My parents always said, “Call us if you’re too drunk to drive home,” and I knew that if I ever called them to pick me up when I was hammered, they’d be pissed. Shouts to your mom. She really might be the best.
Blacked out Saturday night and fell face first into my dresser mid-coitus. Now I’m nursing a two day hangover with a black eye. Not sure if I should go into work tomorrow with a fake story or just own what happened.
Own what happened in an “off the record” conversation with your boys on gchat, but keep it hush-hush to everyone else. One bad apple might spoil the bunch in this case, so don’t let Tina from Accounting hear that you busted your face while sexing.
Went on a Bumble first date bc the guy trains dogs for veterans and I want to keep the dog but not the Bumbler.
Hosted a BBQ for 120, drank too much at the end of the night, and don’t remember what I said to my boss. Still have my phone, though. *win*
What’s this dog trainer’s number? May need him to play golf with us because he sounds tight.
Sunday night, finished an entire 12 pack in front of my grandmother while trying to hold a conversation about recent family events. Ended up stumbling back into my room with no recollection of the conversation. Memorial Day amirite?
Your grandma was probably pretty lit up on sherry, so don’t feel all that bad.
Only meant my Friday happy hour to go for a couple hours. I was naive. Ended up going to 6 different bars and went from vodka to beer to whiskey to tequila to wine. I met a guy at the last bar, was chatting him up pretty well and we danced for a bit. Thought I would get a number and maybe some more when my friend comes up to me and tells me he is engaged. He was actually on his bachelor party… It was at that point all the alcohol caught up to me so I ran out of the room and puked in the sink of the bar bathroom. The next morning I woke up on my couch along with 2 of my roommates, all dressed in last night’s clothes. I puked again. I still feel sore.
At least he told you he was engaged rather than you figuring out the next day after sleeping with him. Congratulations on the bar crawl, though. Six bars in one night is nothing to scoff at.
Went to Atlanta for a friend’s birthday. Day drinking at the brewery went well but things took a turn after the sun went down. Wound up at a bar where they had dueling pianos; I yelled at them to play Free Bird. Danced with and tried to go for a little DFMO with a woman who I’ve been told was old enough to be my mom, but she was not feeling it nearly as much as drunk me thought she was; my friends haven’t let me forget any part of that story. My phone let me know I Venmoed some random guy named Kenneth $5; not sure what for. And to top it all off, I left my credit card at a bar which is only open Thursdays-Saturdays so I guess I’m going to be disputing the fuck out of Wells Fargo.
If the worst thing that happened over the weekend is losing your credit card at the bar, you’re doing okay. Just cancel the shit out of that thing and call Wells Fargo today. By Thursday, it’ll be like nothing happened and you’ll be ready to do it again. .