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No bigger hill to climb than a Monday after a Thursday to Sunday bachelor party. But I’ll admit, reading these stories did wonders for my psyche. Hopefully, they’ll do the same for you.
Alright, let’s get into this week’s crop of stories which can be found unedited in quotes below.
Coming at you live from Houston. This one’s about a wedding my friends and I were invited to after not seeing the bride for over a year and didn’t know the groom. Wedding happened a few weeks ago, but the scaries are still present. Let’s go.
So me and 3 of my best friends are going to this wedding on a Saturday. We get to the ceremony, all good stuff. The cocktail hour is outside and we grab a few mojitos. Then we get into the reception hall and the bars only have liquor at the moment as they wait on the beer to ice down. We weren’t really complaining. We start with simple mixed drinks. This is all before dinner so empty stomachs. We down prob 4-5 drinks before eating, a few during, champagne for the toasts, then dancing starts and god knows how many we’re downing. We’re committed to getting shitty and then go to a bar afterwards with friends not at the wedding.
One of my friends, call him Sam, went into overdrive with the drinks. Ripping shots with the bridesmaids, the whole 9 yards. Next thing I know he’s “slipping” on the dance floor (but yes people were spilling drinks) but this dude is on the ground a lot. Fast forward to the send off. Sam, Richard, and I take the leftover Tito’s from the bar and walk out with it and give everyone a pull. Richard then calls his uber for him and his date. Sam, blacked out, tries to get in said uber but Richard kicks him out of it. Sam then proceeds to just get into the next car he sees. He hops in the DRIVER’S SEAT of the DJ’s truck (didn’t attempt to drive) (DJ was loading his equipment). Sam proceeds to throw up all over this dude’s center console and gear shift. Next thing I hear is “is this your friend!?!” My blacked out self is like “yes i know him.” DJ asks me to come look at the damage. Shit was bad. Sam was on the ground, basically dead. DJ calls the cops over and they’re detaining Sam against a tree. My thoughts “ok Sam is getting arrested, probable public intoxication and damage of property idk.” I’m drunkenly trying to convince the cops not to arrest him. Didn’t work, but kinda did. They were looking at Sam and realized he may have a concussion from falling on the dance floor 4 times. Turns out he did, so they called EMS. Great, now Sam is getting sent to the hospital in an ambulance AND getting charged. The cops come over to tell me “we’re taking him.” So my drunk mind thinks he’s going to the drunk tank and ok cool we’ll pick him up in the morning. He ended up just going to the hospital, but we didn’t know this. We didn’t utilize Find My Friends at the exact moment you need Find My Friends. His mom had to come pick him up at the hospital at 4:00 am after he woke up. He had no clue what happened. He gets back to my house and realizes what he did. Turns out the grooms parents, who we dont know, had to stay at the venue until the cops/EMS left. Took an extra hour after the send off. The groom’s parents had to pay the DJ $500 on the spot to not sue Sam. So now Sam has a $500 venmo request, an ambulance bill, a truck to get detailed, and a hefty hospital bill, and a couple “im sorry” letters to write to people he has never met before.
So am I at fault? Sam thinks so cuz I just left him to die basically. Me? I blame Richard for not letting Sam in the uber. Wild night that we still reminisce every time we’re back together.
Shit was wild.
And this is why you need to stop doing pulls of vodka straight from the bottle after the age of 22. Or, honestly, after the age of 20. Once you’re old enough to legally buy booze, you’re old enough to find a vessel to drink it out of.
I have held off on submitting this story for a while now because I am still trying to mentally come to terms with how shitty of a person I must be. Set the way back machine for last thanksgiving. My new wife and I decide to spend the holiday with my family in rural MD. It just so happens that Thanksgiving day turns out to be the first day of shotgun season and some of my high school friends convince me to leave my wife alone at my parents to go out with them the next morning. This turns into 8 hours of drinking irresponsibly around firearms, during which someone ended up shooting a deer on some stranger’s property (not me I was too drunk to shoot straight) and we end up trying to drag this thing out of the woods in the dark drunk as shit. I finally look down at my phone and see multiple missed calls from my family wondering if I will be back in time for thanksgiving dinner. I make it back 20 minutes before we are supposed to leave to meet my extended family at the restaurant, reeking booze and covered in blood. My wife is pretty upset that I left her with my family alone for the entire day and my parents are yelling at me to hurry up and get in the car, I try to explain that I should probably sit this dinner out based on how I drunk I am but they have none of it. I quickly get changed into something not covered in blood and we head out.
We get to the restaurant and I have hardly sobered up at all. I somehow get the bright idea to order a few IPA’s and get absolutely demolished. I wind up talking shit to my uncle, attempt to pee outside on the wall of the restaurant as we are leaving, and my Grandmother tells me she is happy that my grandfather had passed away so that he wouldn’t have had to see me like that (ouch). Wake up the next morning to a pissed off wife and some pissed off parents. Things have finally smoothed over with the family but we plan on spending the next few holidays at her parents.
Any time you have to say, “I quickly get changed into something not covered in blood and we head out,” you know shit has hit the fan. Big ups to your grandmother for being absolutely ruthless.
It’s Monday and the scaries are still real, I started off my weekend on Friday with a 2nd date with a guy I met on bumble, we met for a drink Thursday, all went well so I accepted a date to a MLB baseball game. I knew this date was down the tubes as soon as I met up with him in the daylight and realized how awkward he was and different he looked. I decided to tough it out because he was nice…..mistake. During dinner before the game, he wouldn’t stop talking about his “low carb diet”, and ordered a sandwich, took the bread off, LICKED the mayo off, and then ate with his fingers. I was repulsed, and seriously considered “going to the bathroom” and dipping out. Other topics of conversation included his hatred for marijuana (sent by the devil), and that alcohol is the true gateway drug, and should be avoided at all costs. What a fun fella!
We go to the game, get to our seats, and realize that by some stroke of luck, my friend and her boyfriend are sitting next to us. She was fighting with her boyfriend, and me being on a date from hell, proceeded to leave our seats and hang out at the bar in our section, slamming fireball shots. Blackout ensue.
Well that bad date couldn’t have escalated faster than it did.
Somehow, the most egregious part of this story is this dude licking the mayo off his sandwich. I like mayo as much as the next guy, but never do you lick it off something. Woof.
I finally got invited to go to dinner with my boss/co-workers. We post-gamed at a nice hotel bar. I made sure to stay less drunk than my boss for most of the night.
I had 2 margaritas, 2 vodka waters, and about 5 champagnes. I talked a bunch of people’s ears off, danced, agreed to try a new religion (i cant explain), and then left the hotel to meet up with friends.
On the way out, some guy said something to me I apparently didn’t like. I hit him in the face! Like a lot. Him and his girlfriend were running from me! Wtf was my problem – I had legit lost my mind. The guy had no choice but to kind of hit me back. Hotel security had to hold me back.
A cop came up to me and grabbed my hands to handcuff me. Somehow I pulled my hands away and then ran as fast as I could, abandoning my purse. I sat outside of a nearby bar, bawling. One of the bar bouncers went back to the hotel and got my purse for me so I wouldn’t get arrested. I ubered home where my roommate was having a party with nose kill.
I have no idea if anyone from my work saw me mindlessly attack a much taller man. We had an event at that hotel earlier that day – a hotel employee could possibly contact my company. I also screamed my company name throughout the confrontation. I don’t remember much, but I remember the guy I attacked saying that he would contact my work. ALSO I can’t find my work ID. What if the hotel has it? My boss isn’t here today, so hard to gauge the vibe.
No exaggeration – this was the worst hangover of my life. I had another work event and had to go to the restroom to dry heave every 15 minutes. I apologized to one of the hotel workers the next day.
I figure if I’m not fired by Friday, I’m in the clear. Someone kill me regardless.
And this, my friends, is why you don’t drink nine (9) drinks when you go out with your coworkers for the first time. Next time you’re out with them, stick to a couple strategies. The first? Keep pace with the person you’re closest with (and don’t encourage upping the pace). The next? Drink two (2) martinis early in the night and then coast on soda water the rest of the night. You’ll feel buzzed, but it’ll wear off before you go to bed. The hardest part is avoiding the third martini.
Alright, so while I’ve had plenty of stories that could have probably been submitted, this one is the most painful and its making me reevaluate my life. Went to a 3 day music festival over the weekend, and took Friday off of work. The only beers available were heavy hoppy beers, so halfway through the first day I switched to double vodka drinks. Turned out better than I expected thanks to a Texas bacon cheesesteak melt from Waffle House and an early Uber home in preparation for the next day. Thought I was going to have an early night, but my friend’s roommate’s friends were over until almost 3, and I got about 5 hours of sleep on a half deflated air mattress. Next day, it takes twice as long to get to the festival thanks to our driver taking the scenic route. Start the day with vodka, and ride that train all day (if you’ve never worn a hangover patch, go look it up on amazon. They’re lifesavers). Ubers were surged a ridiculous amount and no one was willing to split that with me, so we took MARTA as far as it would take us and then a $15 Uber from there. I got to sleep in a bed that night, and I thought everything was smooth sailing. I was honestly so impressed with myself for not getting sloppy drunk, but I definitely spoke to soon because I still had one more day. It was raining and gross on Sunday. Decide I can’t drink vodka again, and go back to the heavy hoppy beers. Run into a friend from college who offers me molly, I stupidly take it even though I know I hate molly. Black out at some point, and come back to around 3:30 on that damn air mattress. I have a flashback of someone offering me LSD, and me taking it. Trip is in full effect, and the anxiety hits haaaard. Called in sick to work which is the most obvious thing after a long weekend, blamed stomach issues. Holed up in my friends room all day watching netflix until I could drive home. Even though I feel better, the moral hangover is still living on.
Oh, and I have an email for every beer or vodka drink I purchased this weekend. It takes up the whole first page of my email and then some. Not even checking my credit card, just going to send in a hefty payment as soon as I get paid again.
I need to see a screenshot of this guy’s vodka-riddled email. I had to turn off Venmo emails because it gave me too much anxiety to see them pile up after a big weekend out of town.
Yuuuuge fan of the column. So this story happened a couple of weeks ago but still thinking about it gives me a shudder or two.
I moved quite a bit ways away from my home after college after landing a pretty good gig right out of college. I have been away from my loved ones for awhile so I decided to head back to my alma mater (I am a strong independent man/woman dammit, I do what I want).
So I flew out to the area, arrived, grabbed food and went out for drinks on HALF PRICE NIGHT. Didn’t get too crazy but definitely drank more that night than I did in the past five months. Woke up the next morning without a hangover, bless tf up.
Next night, went out again. I got pretty damn drunk that night too. There were specials that night too so best believe I took advantage. I had 3 $2.50 long islands, three beers, and a orange redbull with vanilla vodka (tastes like a dreamsicle).
Friday night, I slam down quite a few vodka sprites before I head out, went out to the first bar, grabbed a couple of IPAs, didn’t get crazy, then I went to a 2nd bar and I met up with a friend there. We caught up, had drinks. My friend bought me at least three beers. I bought myself three beers and three vodka sprites on top of that. I also bought a birthday girl and two of her friends vegas bombs because it was the birthday girl’s 21st birthday (it would have been rude not to). I then proceeded to the dance floor and have half the dance floor at the establishment line dance to Sweet Home Alabama (this was not a country bar just so you know), and then went home and passed out. Woke up feeling bloated and hungry but again no hangover (Drink 4 liters of water every day and you too can get the same results).
Saturday, I start drinking around noon, throwing back vodka sprites like its nothing, proceed to show the youngins how you truly shotgun a beer (old man still has it, and I’m 22 just so you know), and I throw back at least five more beers. I’m feelin pretty good at this point and I hear there was some herbs going around so I go to partake. I walk into the room, and there was no 11 herbs and spices, but instead DISCO GLITTER. BOOGER SUGAR. WHITE GIRL. Whatever the hell you want to call it, it was some blow. They ask me if I want a bump, and I said no (low key thought about trying it but I decided not to for better judgement). I get some Marley going on instead because one of the people had some they were willing to share, so I light up. I proceeded to get extremely high. Like I am tripping straight balls. Then the alcohol hits me at the same time. I’m not okay. I stumble to go get food, come back, scarf it down, pass out for 3 seconds, drink water, and then rally for the party. I pregame with some friends, we go to the party, I head to a bar for $5 mixed pitchers and get lit out of my mind. Didn’t black out (6 years strong of never blacking out).
This is where the scaries really trickle in; On my way to the airport, I find out my flight is delayed. BY THREE HOURS. Because of the delay, I would have missed my connecting flight back home. I keep my cool, call United and ask for a connecting flight back. They give one to me free of charge because of their fuck up. Only problem is I would take my first flight to New Jersey, arriving at 12am. Then my connecting flight didn’t start until 6am THE FOLLOWING MORNING. I HAVE TO BE AT WORK AT 6PM THE NEXT EVENING. I got into New Jersey finally, slept in thirty minute intervals AT THE AIRPORT to assure I didn’t miss my connecting flight, somehow make it home, sleep for four hours, then get back up and proceed to work 6pm-3am.
Oh and did I mention I did that last leg of traveling with 23 dollars in my bank account? I was so scared of overdrafting I didn’t buy any food. I just ate the pretzels on the plane and drank loads of water. The scaries didn’t hit me at my alma mater but they hit me on the way home. Might make another trip out there.
I… I don’t know. I don’t think we’d get along, man. I respect how much booze you put down, but I really have to draw the line when you talk about how you’re “six years strong” with “not blacking out.” First and foremost, you need blackout nights in order to keep yourself honest. Secondly, bragging about that is like bragging about your longest beer pong streak. Third, the last thing people want is someone around who remembers everything and reminds them of it. We black out because it’s God’s way of saying, “I don’t want you to remember this.”
Went to my alma mater this weekend and met up with my old roommate. Now your boys are bad at planning and were running late so we pregamed several shots of straight whiskey and Molson in all of thirty minutes. Then head to meet up with our group already at the first bar. We got kicked out of the first bar and somehow the bouncer at the second didn’t realize we already way too drunk and let us in. Proceed to black out as per use (ush, yooj, yoodge?) and make it home alright. But I’m typing this still drunk, with a newly shattered phone, a string of texts to my most recent ex, have to run in a 5k in two hours, and my roommate missed a FaceTime video call from his exes mom. Scaries all around, T & Ps appreciated on this Sunday morning
Love Molsons. Good work. Not sure why you even bothered signing up for a 5K, but good work nonetheless.
I turned 25 this past Thursday. That sucks. But, I now write to you in the moment I just woke up looking outside as the train to the suburbs pulls away from my stop. That sucks more.
Birthdays are only going to get worse from here on out, bud. Anyone who tells you differently is a birthday diva who wants the world to revolve around them.
My dog got surgery this past Thursday. What I was expecting to be a $500ish procedure turned out to be $2800 due to some unexpected findings while he was under. Definitely not ideal, but obviously you do what you have to do right? Thank God I have insurance. That said, he’s had a bad come down from the anesthesia and as a result I’ve been cleaning up puke for days. I’m talking projectile on EV.ER.Y.THING. Carpet, walls, bedding, towels, you name it, it’s been coated. I’m drowning in laundry. Fast forward to today and my boyfriend went on a fishing trip this morning. Unbeknownst to me (he claims he didn’t realize) he clogged our toilet before he left resulting in me having to go to the store to buy a plunger. Gross, right? Gets worse. A $5 plunger turned into a $200 plunger when I received a “failure to properly stop” ticket literally in my driveway after I apparently ran the stop sign turning onto my street (let the record show I absolutely stopped). I can’t decide if I should laugh or cry about my impending financial responsibilities. But hey, at least the toilet works again. Ts&Ps for my mental sanity are greatly appreciated.
At the end of the day, at least the dog is on the mend. The last thing we need in this week’s column is a dog in poor health. Sure, he’s puking at a rapid clip but that’s just what dogs do.
Oh, and your boyfriend definitely knew he clogged the toilet.
Drove from Cleveland to Memphis this weekend (10 hours) for my boyfriend’s cousin’s wedding. We should have flown, I know. Started the drive back to Cleveland Sunday morning and decided to stop in Nashville to watch the Cavs game. Had a couple beers and decided to book a hotel and stay the night in Nashville and call off work tomorrow. I’m so scared.
Not to sound like Girl, but if it’s over five hours… fly. I got a first class upgrade yesterday and spent my three-hour flight drinking free mimosas while watching Manchester v. Arsenal live. Can’t imagine driving with that level of a hangover.
I live in an area that is well known for its wine and all of the wineries within a 50-mile radius have an annual event to try out their new spring collections. This event took place on Saturday. I booked our group of 23 a party bus in January for this event because all of the limo services get locked in extremely fast. After months of people backing out and other people begging to get on it, I finally filled all the spots and got payment from everyone. Saturday also happened to be our company golf tournament so I walked a few holes and drank beers with some coworkers as they played. At 11 I met everyone for the bus and we brought 8 bottles of champagne and orange juice for mimosas on the ride to the first winery. I had a list of about 8 wineries we were going to taste at. We only made it to 4. After running into a bunch of friends at various wineries and inviting people onto our party bus we were now at around 30 and the driver was not pleased. On the way back we ended up stopping at a gas station for beer and people were now shotgunning beers on the party bus. I’m not sure anyone made it out any bars that night. I now get to anxiously wait for if I’m going to get slapped with a huge cleaning fee from the rental place. In hindsight the beers on the course with coworkers at 7 AM may have been a mistake but you live and learn.
This played out exactly like the wine episode of Friends from College on Netflix. Or, Brian McGannon’s column. That too.
I’ve got some serious scaries right now, so I’ll keep this short.
I’m in Toronto waiting for my flight to NYC- I’m coming back from a 2 week trip to Japan and I’ve been awake for over 24 hours at this point, my duty free liquor was taken from me at Canadian customs because I repacked it into my backpack to get onto my flight, and I have to be at work bright and early in the morning. They just announced that my flight is delayed. I may not make it.
Positive thoughts are appreciated.
No no no no no no no. I know you were gone for two weeks, but you’ve gotta take the following Monday off just to get your life together. It’s essential, especially with a time change like that. You played yourself.
Ok a couple background details first.
1. This weekend was a college friend reunion in Nashville. We are all staying at Kenny’s House
2. We’ve been drinking all day.
3. Ken says “I’m going to go take a nap.” He heads into his room.
4. I’m pretty drunk at this point, and I say “Alexa connect my iPhone.” Of course I don’t live here so it connects to Ken’s phone.
5. As soon as the words leave my mouth the room is filled with the sound of a chick getting banged. Alexa is playing ken’s phone audio, and he was gettin after it.
6. We all die laughing. Ken comes out of his room and he is laughing so hard he is rolling on the floor.
That’s all, carry on Will.
Whole squad going to spend the entire next weekend trying to re-create this with their friends.
Long time first time blah blah blah. After recovering from the St Patties weekend that nearly claimed my life I decided that I’ve grown up enough to visit a friend in Orlando and get shitty. Starts off pretty decent Friday at some bar, get bought a shot by a nice looking girl who’s into military guys. Friend played some pretty solid defense unfortunately.
Anyways the night continues and I black out sometime after doing a bump of cocaine off someones key in the restroom woops. Wake up at my friends place who fills me in on the rest of the night. Apparently while making out with a girl (my friends tinder date’s friend) I bit her her shoulder very hard several times, enough to make her leave. We spend Saturday day drinking on a east coast beach with my friends tinder date, who shows me pics of the bite marks I left, pretty solid marks, makes me actually feel bad. Drank somewhere in the market of 12 beers at the beach and restaurant/bar we stopped at on our way back. Go out again, meet up with a tinder date who shows us around a bit. Switch to Jameson and to my dismay black out again. Woke up at my friends place with a wicked hangover and no phone, which the uber never got back to us, and the model phone i have is on backorder. Sunday scaries commencing. Drove 4 hours home with no ac. Today/tomorrow hangover is one for the books. Maybe someday I’ll stop drinking like I’m 21-22.
Man, maybe just don’t bite chicks on the shoulder when you’re hooking up? IDK. Also, I’m 31 and just spent an entire weekend drinking like I’m 22. Easier said than done.
I’m just gonna jump right in. I’m stationed in Maryland for a few months, pretty boring day to day military stuff. On Friday my brothers girlfriend informs me that her and her sorority sisters are gonna be in D.C. for a medical conference and I should drive up so we can all hang. I agree and get to their hotel Saturday afternoon. They have the conference till’ 8ish but insist we all go out drinking after, sounds tight, one of her sisters is a babe and she’s definitely interested in me. I’m just hanging around the hotel bar waiting. One thing leads to another and I’m 4 Old Fashioned’s deep by myself at the bar. The conference finishes up and we link up and get ready to go out, come to find that they’re all pretty tired and wanna just get a bottle and chill in the room, cool. I’m in a hotel suite with 5 other girls (brothers girlfriend included) and they’re pretty conservatively sipping Cape Codder’s. My dumb ass breaks out my Jameson and I start pounding it straight up. I black out. It’s 10am and there’s a someone pounding on the hotel room door, I stumble over (still drunk) to see 4 big dudes from hotel security telling me I need to leave because I’m not a guest at the hotel. I look around the room and it’s empty. All the furniture has been moved, there’s a massive pile of wet towels in the corner, and it wreaks of Jameson vomit. I get my shit and am escorted to the curb. I start making calls to figure out what the hell happened. Turns out after I blacked out I started hitting on the girl who was into me but she’s not feeling it cus’ I’m super fucked up, I ask her if I can kiss her too many times and her sisters want me gone. I lose control at a certain point and piss all over the bathroom floor, throw up on the carpet, and go fully belligerent. They have a 7am flight so they push all the furniture out of the way so I don’t fall and kill myself and leave me, not forgetting to inform the hotel of my situation. Also the whole time my brothers girlfriend was texting him and he was texting my dad, great. Now I’m sitting on a bench in D.C. in the rain, blasting cig’s and trying to sober up before going back to base. I guess civilians just can’t party like us Navy guys.
1. Why is everyone drinking Jameson this week? Gross.
2. How did you know the towels smelled like Jameson puke? Could you smell it from anywhere in the room or did you go up and take a hearty wiff?
3. “I guess civilians can’t party like us Navy guys.” Uh, sorry, bud, but this entire story lead to me thinking, “Man, this guy sucks at drinking.” Like you were a liability the entire night. Sit the next couple out.
I flew to Dallas to visit one of my friends for a long weekend. We drank all day Friday at various bars which led me to throw up in her bed and onto the concrete floor in her room that night. I got up swiftly to go into her shower, but I stepped in my vomit and proceeded to slip and fall into said puke. I was covered from head to toe, and I severely bruised my ass. She was way too nice about it and promptly changed the sheets and helped me shower. The next day involved me throwing up off the back of one of those party pedal bike pub crawls, followed by 15 hours of sleep. Even almost 48 hours later, I feel terrible. I just checked my work phone to see I have back-to-back meetings all day tomorrow that I am not prepared for at all.
This is why you should never do pedal pubs, everyone.
I recently purchased a home. The first mortgage payment is due May 1st.
Big ups to everyone who wrote in this week. I asked for your best, and you came through. Yes, I’ve lost faith in all of you but still, great work. As always, email firstname.lastname@example.org with your worst stories and we can all feel terrible about ourselves together. .