I woke up about two hours ago with the trademark “Did I kill someone this weekend?” anxiety. You know, the kind of anxiety Dillon had after getting bottle service after Saved By The Brunch.
But here we are. Another manic Monday where we tell ourselves “Diet starts tomorrow!” and “I’m never drinking again.” But the diet won’t start tomorrow and come Friday of this week, everyone will find themselves shooting off texts to see where they should head to blow off some steam by way of beers and vodka-sodas.
Let’s get into it.
Tried the Colombian marching powder for the first time. Lost my debit card at the bars. About to have a fucking panic attack.
Yeah, so maybe don’t do illicit drugs at bars, man.
Not as bad as some things you’ve featured but made some mistakes this weekend.
Normally I’d probably put getting back together with an ex on Thursday towards the top of the list, but that’s the least of my worries this weekend.
As a Texas guy out of the home state seeing all the Grandex buzz about it being crawfish season again got me feeling a little nostalgic and hungry. I found a place that I could get some mud bugs for myself on Friday night and it seemed like a dream come true with all the fixings; corn, potatoes, andouille, lemons, hell they even had Shiner. However I’m in Iowa and blatantly ignored the rule about avoiding seafood in the midwest while trying to get my cajun fix…. Well, I’ve been paying for that mistake since Saturday morning, and just now was able to keep down some chicken soup.
Crawfish boils are fun when it comes to pounding great food and washing it down with beer. That is, until the next day when you hate yourself for 1. drinking a lot of beer and 2. eating food with enough spice to make your nose bleed.
Took a trip back to my alma mater to see the girlfriend/participate in our annual spring drinking activities. Was there Wednesday to Sunday which should already tell you I’m an idiot. Pass the first three days alternating between consuming nothing but alcohol for 12 hours, dying for the next 12, and repeating. No lie I ate 3 meals the entire trip. Had to stop a fight between a buddy of mine and some random guy, then deal with the cops after (thankfully nothing happened). Finally Saturday morning at 7am we open the bars, and in this moment my all liquid diet decides to catch up to me and I spend the next 4 hours clenching my ass to prevent a Deepwater Horizon style blowout. Finally gf and I decide to head home, stop at Panera for food on the way. We stumble our way in at 11am, drunk, in costumes (per school tradition), and slur out our orders in front of a bunch of parents with their kids. My only redeeming moment was not shitting myself in public thank god.
To top this all off, we watched The Discovery on Netflix Saturday night, which is all about the afterlife. Naturally, this sticks in my brain and causes me to spend the entire 6 hour drive home Sunday compiling a list of all the reasons that I would be going to hell.
This email was titled “Never Go Back To College Edition” and that’s really the most fitting title it could have.
Tried out a new club for a friends birthday. Drank an absurd of amount of some drink called: “Adios Motherfuckers”. I spent the next hour waiting for a ride home embracing a crying, equally blacked out friend. To top everything off, upon my return home…My dog peed on the floor.
This is why you never drink something called an “Adios Motherfuckers” and/or go to clubs. Stick to bars where Bob Seger plays on the jukebox and the only options for things to drink are light beer and dark beer.
I avoided riding the bull on Friday night so I wouldn’t get bruises (bad history with that). Ended up being so hungover on Saturday morning I fell down a flight of outdoor stairs (it was raining in my defense), and now have a bruise the size of Texas on my ass. The ice pack and me have a long week ahead.
Can someone explain to me what “riding the bull” means? Because surely she can’t be actually riding a bull. And I’d like to believe she’s not talking about drinking vodka-Red Bulls.
Flew to Phoenix for a friend’s bottomless birthday brunch. Had many glasses of OJ and champagne, but they were, disappointingly, very weak. The decision was made to parlay brunch into day drinking beginning with a shot of what was called sex on the beach (was pretty much just sugar instead) out of a rubber duck so it was all downhill from there. Realized my flight required me to be at the airport in less than 3 hours so I said fuck it and spent $200 to switch my flight till the next day. Ended up passing out by 5pm then woke up and spent almost $100 at a fantastic country bar. No complaints but wow my bank account is done for.
Ah, Phoenix. Where bank accounts go to die.
While golfing with my buddy saturday he got an ace from 207. We then got him (and us) so twisted he passed out on the table at bdubs. His wife doesnt know.
I mean, if you get a hole in one, you’re pretty much allowed to do anything you want for the following 48 hours.
Have you ever had those moments where you wish you would live it down but it just keeps coming back to haunt you? Well that’s what my Sunday scaries entails
Over a year ago I had one of those nights where you wake up the next morning and have zero recollection of how you made it home. I had sprained my ankle, scraped my face and had the hangover from hell for 12 hours. It took me 3 weeks to finally find out what happened that night.. and unfortunately the information came from a gym member at the gym I worked at.
Apparently I had I had wandered off from my friends and 2 guys found me in an alley and brought me home (not my finest moment). Not only did this story get retold in my place of work, but my manager overheard the entire conversation. It took me about 3 months to live it down. This was May of 2016
Today, while fighting another hangover at work the same man came in to cancel his membership. Not only did he remember me, but he went into detail about the entire story once again as a family was arriving for a tour. Some things you truly will never live down I guess
No no no no no. You can’t do that if you’re that guy. That’s like showing your friend a video of themselves drunk the second their two-day hangover goes away. Just insta-Scaries.
Went out to a dive bar with a friend group and previous flame. The bartender there was turning 21 at midnight. Apparently this place didn’t care too much she was 20 still cause she was pretty hammered when we got there. She ended up throwing up into a bucket at 10:30. An hour later I was pretty tuned up and ended up making out with the 20 year old bartender 1 hour post puke. I’m a 25 year old post grad who needs to reevaluate a few things.
This made me nauseous.
I’m submitting on behalf of a friend because I think his Sunday Scaries are too scary for him to write out at this point in time. We’ll call him Mark. A bunch of our friends from school were in our college town this weekend for an alumni thing, which generally entailed us trying to relive our glory days but with at least 50% reduced alcohol tolerance. Our Saturday night (following a full day of drinking) began with the great decision to go back to our old fraternity house for an active’s 21st birthday. Truthfully we should all be ashamed of ourselves for thinking this was a solid game plan but good old Mark was there to claim most of our would-be Scaries for himself. His activities following our arrival include the following:
1. Several hours of beer pong
2. Taking our other buddy’s wheelchair and wheeling himself furiously around the house trying to run into the younger guys
3. A 15 second keg stand
4. Half an hour expressing his disappointment at only completing a 15 second keg stand
5. A 20 second keg stand
6. Walking outside to puke immediately following keg stand
7. Eating shit on the front lawn after puking
8. Pouring himself a couple stiff cups of punch (still unsure where the punch came from) to wash the taste of puke out
9. Playing “never have I ever” with a group of college sophomores
10. Hitting on a couple 19 year old girls with boyfriends
11. Passing out in a hammock at 4 am
12. Waking up at 5 am and making an active order him a Fasten (RIP Uber) back to the Airbnb
Pretty bad Sunday Scaries for Mark if you ask me, but his antics did give us a new avatar for the groupme at least.
Why are you people like this? This is our first ever “friend reporting on someone else” email submission, so you know the dude was struggling. At least he passed out in a hammock, though. That’s a #chillsitch.
This one will be short and sweet. It’s Saturday night at bar close so what else is there to do? Hit the casino. A few of us arrived 30 minutes before other friends so we hit the black jack table. I end up losing $300 while my drunk friend walks in, puts $5 into a slot machine and cashes out $800. Nothing good happens after 2 am.
All in all not as bad as half the stories on here but it still stings. I hope you basically passing out Sunday afternoon makes the list.
It’s ingrained in my head that nothing good happens after midnight (or in this case, 2 a.m.) but yet I still somehow manage to stay out late and make the mistakes I know I shouldn’t be making.
My roommate always has his high school friends, who live in the burbs with their parents, stay at our place in the city EVERY weekend. On Saturday night, they were boozing and playing loud music until 3am. I asked them to tune it down for the night, so I could pass out. They laughed at me, my roommate turned the music up louder, and they continued until 4am. Yesterday, I twirled that motherfucker’s toothbrush in an unflushed toilet and drank one of his good beers, when he wasn’t home.
That’s really messed up, man. You’re probably going to hell for that toothbrush schtick.
After going to a wedding at a resort where the bartenders maintained a steady stream of voddy-sodas, I woke up feeling like hell. The guy I was staying with had won $50,000 on Draft Kings so we thought it was a good idea to celebrate by shutting the hotel bar down after the wedding. That’s all a very vague memory. Naturally, I went straight to a crawfish boil where they had all-you-can-drink beer. Fast forward to 7 p.m. where I dozed off at a Tex-Mex restaurant with my coworkers. Luckily, one of my coworkers tweeted out a video of me falling asleep to his 40K+ followers. I’m now working from home and should probably feel worse than I actually feel.
Okay, fine, that last one was me. Happy Monday. Can’t wait to do it again next weekend. .