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Dance Floor Makeouts, Juul Threesomes, And A Stripper: The Worst Stories From This Weekend

This is a recurring PGP series. Catch up with all installments of Worse Weekends Than You by visiting the archive. Email your stories to will@grandex.co.

Dance Floor Makeouts, Juul Threesomes, And A Stripper: The Worst Stories From This Weekend

One week into January. Some of you out there are doing Sober January, and others are just riding the wave into 2018 and keeping the bender going. Big up yourselves.

As always, we break some of the following stories down on Touching Base (subscribe on iTunes and SoundCloud). All the episodes can be found below. Proceed with caution.

Alright, let’s get into this week’s crop of stories which can be found unedited in quotes below.

Recently started working as a dancer to make some money part time while going to school and NYE was expected to be a money-making night. Thinking this would make me drink more responsibly, I drove my car to the club. Obviously my car spent the night in the parking lot because I took more shots than I should have but ended up making around $300 so that wasn’t bad.

At the end of the night, I went to a hotel room with a customer I knew for a few weeks already and with 3 other women (2 of whom are also strippers). I should’ve known that the crowd I was with did not warrant a “chill night.”

Sure enough, I did coke for the first time with everyone and also participated in a threesome while the other two girls were sitting on the bed next to us watching tv. There’s no way they didn’t know what was happening but they seemed unaffected so that was weird but whatever.

We fell asleep around 5 am this morning and I woke up at 7 with no desire to stay in this hotel room with relative strangers. I tried to find all my clothes but my leggings were gone with the night. Thankfully my coat is pretty long so I still got out of there just fine. I then continue to take the ten minute walk home because I refused to pay double the usual price for an Uber to take me home.

I got home, put some pants on, and then rode a city bike to the club to pick up my car. It only took about ten minutes via bike and only one man yelling at me in the street about how it’s 2018 now. I got home and of course climbed into bed and didn’t wake up until 1 PM to a text from my parents asking me to come get lunch with them. Feeling obligated to go and fearing that they would then drop into my apartment littered with stripper shoes and clothes, I took a quick shower to hide the shame, alcohol, and coke that consumed my night. I then proceeded to pretend I had a normal NYE and have a whole week of scaries until classes start again next week.

I know we’re a little late on the whole “New Year’s Eve” stories thing, but please forgive me as I would be remiss for not including this story. Shambles, shambles, shambles. Shambles all around. I respect the hustle, but maybe just ask your parents for the $300 you would’ve made on New Year’s Eve at the club. This seems like a slippery slope.

i decided after much deliberation and several house party invites that i would go to a friend of a friends girlfriends NYE party. only to find out that this party was full of dudes who were not impressed that i showed up to the party. i promptly left, narrowly avoiding a fight and throwing one empty champaign bottle onto the snowy lawn. i was on my way to hit up a bar, pay the extreme cover price and get blasted for the last 3 hours of the night. at 2:00 am january first i received a text message from my father (whose recovering from surgery): “don’t forget you need to take your mother to that funeral in the morning”.

hungover, i spent the next day driving an hour and a half to a rural community and then 4 hours sitting through one of the saddest funerals of human existence. the surviving members of a mennonite farmers family (who i had never met) caused me a panic attack as they recounted this great mans life. while fighting back tears as we sat in the front row of the church, that the deceased had built with his own two hands, all i could think of was how ive wasted my time on earth and how ill never be as loved as the man lying in the box at the front of the alter.

i’m a shell of a man, im simply not there

And this, my friends, is peak-Sunday Scaries. Sunday Scaries like you read about. The Scariest of Sundays, even if it wasn’t actually Sunday.

2 a.m. texts from your parents are pretty much never a good thing, especially when it 1. has to do with a funeral and 2. comes through on New Year’s Eve. Like I’m pretty sure this text message came through between several “whhat are u up to?” texts from dudes you may or may not have hooked up with in the past.

Long time toucher and consumer of all things PGP, here we go.

To start the weekend off my girlfriend and I drove from my apartment in Charlotte, NC on Friday to Birmingham, AL (6.5 hours) to see her parents since we didn’t get a chance to see them on Christmas weekend. This year for Christmas my parents got us tickets to the Sugar Bowl in New Orleans, so we drove from Birmingham to New Orleans (5.5 hours) on Sunday to spend NYE there before the game.

We decided to keep it casual with dinner and to stay away from Bourbon street and got drinks at the Roosevelt Hotel. I checked my Uber app at 12:15 and rides were only $14 so I ordered one last drink and by 12:30 Uber’s were $50 plus, not terrible but the drivers kept cancelling on me so we ended up waiting an extra 45 minutes with a dying phone so only mild anxiety occurred from that.

Fast forward to game day and things are going well, other than it being cold as fuck, but we had great food and some good beers so all was ok. We’re both Alabama alumni so the game goes our way and we beat our future coach once Saban hangs it up, you can take that to the bank.

The shitty part about this situation is that my girlfriend is in law school at Ole Miss in Oxford, MS and has an intersession class that is only 10 days long, so missing any days for any reason is unacceptable. Said class starts at 9:30 am the day after the game. So we drive immediately after the game to Oxford (5.5 hours) and arrive home at promptly 5:30 am CST. No crazy drunken shenanigans this year but the collective travel is taking its toll. At least I have a flight back to Charlotte so I don’t have to drive 10 plus hours from Oxford. However I had to schedule it later tonight because my girlfriend is my ride to the airport and she has class.

Also as I’m writing this I just received a notification that my flight has been delayed to 7:40 pm CST. Here’s to hoping I don’t miss my connecting flight in Chicago (no direct flights were available) or I might be hitting Duda up for an air mattress to crash on. Cheers to 2018.

Okay, Anonymous, I’m just going to straight talk to you – this is way too much travel for this short of a stretch. Not to sound all TGDAG-y, but you need to consider flying anywhere that’s more than five hours away, especially if you know you’re going to drink.

Furthermore, never connect through Chicago. I don’t care if you have to connect through Anchorage, Alaska instead – connecting through Chicago is a death sentence. I’ve never had a flawless flight to, from, or through ORD. I’ll spare you the stories, but just know that I’ve had to revert to some dire tactics to make things tolerable there.

Last weekend I was visiting my home town for the holiday weekend.

On Saturday I went out with some high school buddies. First we hit two house parties and then headed downtown to the bars. At this point I was already good and buzzed, but I’m not one to turn down beers when your buddy is throwing down the Amex platinum left and right. After a tequila shot or two, a couple beers, and a vodka soda that would make any man shiver – I was truly toasted and brave enough to twirl any passerby and approach all the pretty girls in the bar.

That said, I did approach who I thought to be the prettiest girl in the bar. I had met her the last time I was home, and even went to college with her older brothers – but could not for the life of me remember their names and that made me look absolutely horrible. She fully blew me off, so I introduced myself to her fat friend who was incredibly polite. I was hoping she might see I was a good guy and consider saying more than three words – that was not the case.

After about 20 more minutes at that bar we decided to head out. I walked outside and decided to rip on the old juul, almost instantly a couple of girls standing outside exclaimed “is that a juul?” So naturally I walked over and said yes, gave them a puff or two and within less than a minute they invited me over to their house. In the car, the girl in the backseat looked over and said “you are so hot”, so I leaned over and kissed the girl. Then the one driving (1980 civic or similar) stops for gas and the girl in back goes to fill the tank, at this point the girl in the front seat leaned back to kiss me.

When I get there, I walk in and one of the girls’ older sisters is sitting on the couch. I went to high school with her…. I think the first thing that came out of her mouth was “who are you here with?” I drew a blank. Then I was summoned to the bedroom with the two who brought me over. At that point it was on, the younger sister had my pants off and it was getting going when the older sister bursts in chasing a rasping dog. I think she was in the room for about thirty seconds chasing the dog around, but she was there long enough to say “you have such big balls!” Then she went away and I had my first party of three. I won’t get too into details, but it was pretty epic. Luckily I was truly sauced and happened to last much longer than usual (considering the circumstances). The girls ended up driving me back to my house and kept telling me how nice I was and how I seemed like a great guy.

Moral of the story, you can get turned down by the prettiest girl in the bar and still score.

This dude just had a threesome by way of a Juul. I never thought I’d say this, but Juul Nation, please stand and gas your boy up. What a ride.

I’ve been following along for about six months but haven’t quite had a weekend worth submitting till now. I’ll start by saying I am not quite a post grad but am about 9 weeks away from fulltime adulthood and have been trying to make the most of my last quarter of undergrad. The best way to do this was by going on a four day bender to start off the quarter, first two nights were uneventful then we got to Friday.

Friday nights at my school are not typically big nights but since it was week one after break everyone was ready for a good time. It started by grabbing a few beers with friends at a brewery then going to our fave dive bar for what should have been a chill night. Well two pitchers and a round of gin and tonics later we decide to hit up the classic dirty college bar on campus, the one everyone knows takes fakes and therefore is always full of freshman and sophomores but if you’re in the right mindset it can be a great time. Following a few more rounds of vodka redbulls and a lovely conversation with the guy i woke up with new year’s day about how we wants his clothes back I find myself making out with a rando on the dance floor. Who I later find out is a sophomore.

Next thing I know we are stumbling back to my place which is conveniently located a block from the bars. Everything seems to be doing well and just as me and this guy are about to get to know each other biblically he starts projectile vomiting all over my bed and the nice new white sheets. I then throw this kid into the bathroom and frantically call my friend asking him what to do and trying to find this kids roommates to come retrieve him from the bathroom floor since he is butt ass naked and covered in his own throw up. After about 20 minutes he finally remembers his own phone password so I can try and text someone to get him. Finally one roommate who is still drunk shows up and takes an hour to get him cleaned up and dressed enough to walk home all while I’m trying to clean up this kids vomit.

The only good thing is that I charged him 60 bucks for new sheets and mine came clean so I made some cash the weekend.

Oh and Saturday night I found out my friend with benefits left school and moved home without telling me first. Here’s a great finish to undergrad.

I know, I know, commenters – she isn’t technically “post-grad” so “she shouldn’t be on here.” Just give her some slack. Think of her as a potential new member. Take her for what she’s worth.

Now let’s get down to the nitty-gritty: dance floor makeouts. I’m telling you this as someone who knows – nothing good happens after a dance floor makeout. Nothing. You’re probably on, like, six people’s Snapchat stories. They get more and more dicey as you go deeper into your twenties, so please proceed with caution.

And let me know if you need any recommendations on new sheets. Thread counts are a lie.

I started off the weekend still being physically and emotionally hungover from the previous weekend (fell onto a 60 year old woman at moon taxi followed by a night in New Orleans for NYE, yikes). My birthday is New Year’s Day, but because everyone always has their own NYE plans, I never celebrate it with my friends until later. Which is why I celebrated it this weekend.

The plan was to go to a brewery just to hang out during the day. We would probably go out, but it would be a game time decision, as the city is unusually packed due to the national championship game (go dawgs). I had like 4 IPAs at the brewery and things started getting pretty hazy. Then we ubered to one of our favorite sports bars to watch the falcons get after that ram ass. At one point, I blackout snapchatted Dillon and Ross (no clue what I sent, apologies guys). Me and about 5 others were the only ones who were able to make it out afterwards. I requested get busy by Sean Paul and not only did they play it, but they played it twice. And each time, it brought the house down.

I slept at a friend’s place and woke up Sunday still heavily intoxicated. I decided to go to the movies so I could prepare for tonight’s golden globes. That’s when the hangover started to sink in. I made it about 10 minutes into “shape of water” before I started feeling super barfy. I got up, walked into the hallway, and knew I wouldn’t make it to the bathroom. I proceeded to throw up on a trashcan. Not in the trashcan because it was one of those ones where the openings are on the side. Just flat out on top of the trashcan. I didn’t tell anyone and left. I am officially scum. When I got home, I violently threw up, took a 5 hour nap, and am now still throwing up while watching the golden globes. To make matters worse, schools in the area are closed tomorrow due to icy road conditions, and I want to work from home but can’t because I left my laptop at work on Friday. Send prayers and good vibes my way please.

First of all, congratulations on riding the Moon Taxi. Underrated act.

Second of all, apologies for having your birthday on New Year’s Day. As a January 2nd boy myself, those are two of the worst days to have a birthday. Everyone’s hangover catches up with them and all of the sudden you’re just sitting there bloated wondering where the last year went.

And finally, thank you for requesting “Get Busy” by Sean Paul in 2018. You’re the type of person we need in the bar when everyone else is requesting the same EDM-pop songs we’ve all heard a million times.

I don’t say this often, but wear your weekend like a badge of pride. Crushed it.

* * *

Yes, this week’s crop of stories largely had to do with picking up the pieces from New Year’s Eve. Let’s get in the present next week, everyone. Email me your worst stories to will@grandex.co and let’s show the world what you’ve done.

Weigh in by way of the comment section as well. I don’t discriminate.

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Will

Will deFries (Twitter / Instagram) is a Senior Editor at Grandex and the world's foremost authority on Sunday Scaries (Twitter / Instagram).

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