======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ==== ======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ====
No Monday like the Monday you feel when you roll into work after being out of the office for seven days. I’d pretend like I’m complaining, but Touching Base had a monstrous week at THE PLAYERS Championship in Florida so there really haven’t been any lingering Sunday Scaries.
If you want to check out each and every podcast we did while we were there, you can listen on iTunes and SoundCloud. I’ve even made a handy-dandy playlist where you can listen to everything at your desk and pretend like the person sitting across from you isn’t clipping their nails in their cubicle.
Alright, let’s get into this week’s crop of stories which can be found unedited in quotes below. Send your worst to email@example.com to get featured in future weeks.
Long time reader, first time writer, etc etc
This happened a while ago, but there’s been a recent twist that made it resurface for me. Also, doesn’t involve a degenerate amount of alcohol, shockingly.
I work for this pretty small tech firm in NY and at the beginning of August we found out we were getting a new intern on our dev team. I assumed it would be some little nerdy kid and promptly forgot about it. Start date for the intern comes, I walk into work, and instead of a nerdy tech dude stereotype…the intern is this HOT chick. Literally my exact type. She gets introduced to everyone, turns out she’s from a rival school in my home state so we jokingly shit on each other, everything is cool. My work buddy gets her number (he tries super hard to be the office bro) and invites her and her roommates out to a bar with us. Surprisingly, she actually comes.
We buy them drinks, hang out, shoot the shit, and I start doing the hard flirt with this girl. I’m holding her hand, she’s super into it and flirting back, I lean in for a kiss, she kisses me back…and then totally disappears. I’m disappointed but whatever, it didn’t work out. (Full disclosure: she’s 22 and I’m 25, so I don’t think the age thing is that weird. I’m not some old man creep hooking up with an 18-year-old.)
Fast forward to December – it’s the end of the year and we’re having our holiday party. I’m with my buddy and I feel someone touch my shoulder…and it’s her. With a shot for me. We end up hitting it off, I’m flirting with her again, and I finally take her home with me after we literally close down the bar. Where we have a LOT of sex. And then hook up again after work the next day.
So I thought that we’d just have the office hookup, she’d leave to go back and finish school, and that would be that. But we kept talking (and also some dirty Snapchatting, oh well). And then she came back to the city for a job interview…where we hooked up again. But we also went on what was essentially a date and snuggled and did a bunch of cutesy shit that made it seem like more. Also she got the job, now she’s moving out here. Should I shoot my shot and take her on a date? Do I just keep hooking up with her and hope she’s also catching feelings?
T&Ps appreciated for your boy who is experiencing feelings for the first time in a while
I meannnnnnnnnnn, I think you have to take her on a date? I don’t know. This feels mailbag-y to me because hooking up with your hot 22-year-old intern (while irresponsible) sounds pretty money. Like, no one feels bad for you.
Just don’t go radio silent on her or else you’re going to get a “Are you going to return my emails unlike my texts?” in a meeting when you least expect it.
I wrote in about the week in the balkans last time and have another doozy to add. This one is significantly shorter and significantly more disturbing however. Ill cut to the chase.
It was my cousins (ill refer to him as mark) birthday this past weekend. It started off innocently enough. A few beers at my cousins. Light beers I might add, none of that irresponsible IPA business. Any who, friday night went well enough, no majorly irresponsible decisions and a relatively light hangover. Saturday, however, progressed into a realm of debauchery rarely seen.
A friend of ours, who since committing to a serious relationship has become a major boner, decided to come out with us that night. Since we rarely enjoy his company, we decided to go above and beyond. It was decided that a strip club in tijuana was the best choice, as the border is a mere 30 minutes south of us. We pregamed at marks house and after a couple hours decided to make our way south of the border. The night begins well enough more drinks and generally a good time. Mark however decided that wasnt good enough and proceed to crush and rail a xanax he bought from some dude, followed by a couple lines of that nose kill. Being the good friends we are, we politely declined the xanax, but gladly partook in the latter substance. From there the mixture of questionable blow and cheap drinks took its toll. Mark ended up telling one of the strippers that it was his birthday and they hit it off quite well. Upon telling her that he lives in a multimillion dollar mansion, she was more than willing to convince a couple of her friends to come back and party with us on his dime.
Upon arriving back at marks house, the group of us, now 4 guys and 3 very questionably attractive strippers (I would gage them around 6-7), began to let loose. A black out ensued and most of the night was fuzzy from there on out. I woke up sunday morning relatively unharmed, save for what felt like a minor concussion and a 100$ bar tab. Mark however didnt fare so well. Apparently he had decided that it would be an excellent idea to go down on one of the strippers and woke up the next morning with symptoms of strep and a fever. A trip to the hospital that day would confirm tonsilitis and a nasty sore throat. Also, his elevator from the first story to the second was broken, a sky light was blown out, someone puked in the jacuzzi, and for some odd reason an upstairs doorknob was torn off. The strippers were no where to be found and luckily after 24 hrs it appears nothing of consequence was taken.
Feeling like a shit start to a shit week.
So many bad decisions in so few words. Truly remarkable.
First of all, don’t go down on strippers. I don’t have some personal anecdote or anything because, well, going down on strippers just seems like a generally awful idea. But with that being said, gross.
Secondly — and most importantly — let’s talk about the dangers of Xanax. As someone legally prescribed this drug, I’m also well-aware of the dangers of it. Allow me to climb up on my high horse for a moment and explain to your friend, Mark, how much of an idiot he is. Drinking on Xanax is like drinking on painkillers. Not only will you likely black out, but based on the amount that he ingested, he could potentially die without thinking he even did that much. It’s one of the more irresponsible things you could possibly do. I know I normally omit decisions that are this bad, but we’ve never really confronted this sort of thing in this column so I figured it was time.
TL;DR — Xanax and alcohol don’t mix. And should never mix.
Also, please put the dollar sign in front of the number. Please.
LTFT I really thought I was too old for this, but sometimes your column could use some post-plus problems, since the kids seem to swarm you with their hang-over scaries. I apologize for the length but here’s the background: I have a 2-year old and a regularly-on-call doctor-wife. Being a responsible parent of a two year old, I really can’t drink anymore. The worst case scenario is ubering to the urgent care because wife left, and kid got sick in the night…Plus, you think a hang over is bad, try one whilst changing a diaper and singing “the wheels on the bus. ”
Anywho, this last weekend (cinco de mayo) we had out-of-town guests who wanted to hang out with my wife and kid. It was my plan to get things done, listen to a game, watch the derby, and drink beers by myself – while they took care of my son. I love working around the house, frankly, I am handy.
I met two gardeners at the neighbor’s house the night before, and they convinced me that they could trim the bushes in my yard and clean it up a bit, I regularly mow, and weed but I am too scared to shape the bushes. I decided while they were doing yard work, I would put up a new outdoor electrical outlet and some spot lights. I pulled out the cooler, blasted Shania Twain, and me and my new friends started drinking beers. I hadn’t eaten anything all day, and in the 100 degrees of weather on a ladder, I got pretty slow doing my electrical work. At some point my wife came home to find me and three gardens (we started with two) sitting on the lawn drinking beers. Wanting to convince her that I was productive all day, I decided to finish my project. While checking if I wired the outlet correctly, I forgot to turn the main fuse back off when I started to wire another light, I proceed to zapp myself, teach the neighborhood a new set of curse words and when my wife comes to check on me I brush her off with “it’s only 120 volts” I write this with a numb arm, and too much ego to admit that I should go see a real doctor – re: not my wife. My fatherly advice: drink water: don’t work with electricity while drinking diesels with the gardeners; and while I am not an electrician, I think the rule is when doing electrical work, only use two fingers, and if you get zapped, it will only go through your hand whereas if using two hands it will go through your heart.
“I pulled out the cooler, blasted Shania Twain, and me and my new friends started drinking beers” is a chill goddamn sitch. However, getting electrocuted while doing handy work is not. Big ups to you for being alive. Being alive is tight.
Long time, first time. Coming to you on Monday because the exhaustion and anxiety from this weekend have taken their toll.
Friday morning I had a 6 am sales meeting and working for a beer company before a major holiday means you put in long hours before major holidays. Finished up at 6 pm only having had coffee and granola bars for lunch. Meet a coworker for drinks and have a couple vodka sodas. One of our accounts is having a “May the 40s be with you” event so we head there and order two 40s each of Olde English. After another coworker bongs a 40 out of a spine funnel, he jumps on the bar and rips his shirt off. Coworker 1 slips off to make bad decisions with the bar manager (his wife is the GM at another bar and this girl has a long term bf). This is my cue to GTFO and Uber home.
Saturday morning I wake up and have to set up an event at a Mexican restaurant that hosts a huge Cinco party. I start drinking Mexican ashtrays and 32oz Modelos at 1pm. DJ starts at 4pm and bands start at 6pm. My managers wife and one of her friends (both 35) show up around 3:30 and we start chatting and drinking beers. I’m making jokes and feeling out the friend. Around 8:30 as I’m walking back to the girls after going to the head, an older woman stops me and says that I haven’t changed in years. She tells me to tell my parents hello and I ask how her son is doing, assuming she is the mom of a guy I went to school with. She tells me her son passed away several years ago. It was not the same person. I’m pretty drunk and immediately go into anxiety mode. Continue drinking with my managers wife and her friend to the point I have to hold manager’s wife up until our Uber arrived at 11:00pm. Went back to managers house while he is breaking down another event and the friend and I go to the basement to “watch the hockey game”. The predators lost and the night ended with some drunk naked shenanigans.
Wake up Sunday in my manager’s basement and have to awkwardly ask him for a ride back to my car. We hardly say anything to each other. Spent Sunday afternoon pouring wine at a benefit for a different good friend who was killed in hit and run several years ago hoping his parents didn’t realize I was hungover.
My manager is playing golf today so I didn’t have to talk to him but it might be awkward for the next few days and I hope the lady at the Cinco party doesn’t see my parents anytime soon.
This week is just the week of heavy shit, huh? Let’s at least discuss something that I hold near and dear to my heart — “Mexican Ashtrays.”
There is (and will never be) an end-all hangover cure. I don’t care what scientists from MIT and Harvard claim they’re coming up with. But the closest thing we’ll find is the beauty of what I like to call a “dressed Tecate.” I’ve spoken to these in the past ever since I had a few last month, and I’ve also passed them out at a bachelor party in order to help the squadron recover. Find the recipe here and cure your hangovers once and for all.
So this happened a while ago (over Xmas so I was visiting home) but I’m just writing in now cause I recently started tuning in, love the content. Anyways this story is pretty bad which is why I have to share it. Two of my buddies and I decided to have a night out in the city, hit some bars get some food etc. Well, we started off at my house around 8:30, drinking a few beers, and everything was fine. Then we uber to a bar in the city, have a few more beers there. Go over to another bar and have a beer. Then we meet this guy named Ross. Straight up looked like DJ Khaled, had the out fit, chains and everything. He buys us kamikazes and shots. Then all of a sudden he gets real creepy talking bout girls and he points one out to me, looks me in the eyes and says “Bring her to me”. I’m sauced at this point, so I go over to the girl and I whisper to her and point to the guy and pretend to set him up, then I tell her to stay the hell away from him cause he’s a creep. My friends and I bounced to another bar and left the rapey DJ Khaled behind.
Next thing you know I am butt ass naked eating ice cream in my kitchen at 6 am still completely plastered. I manage to make it to my bed and pass out. When I wake up at 9, vague memories start to make their way back to me. I freak out and start looking for my phone. Can’t find it. Next, I look for my wallet. Can’t find it. I find my keys but that doesn’t help me much. I text my friend on my computer and he fills me in on what happened.
It all started with us going to a corner store and buying 2 tall cans of Mikes Harder Lemonade (I know, I know, pretty high school). Vaguely remember that but from here on out it’s blackout central station. Me and my buddy down those and make our way to a bar where we continue to drink. I am by far the most messed up but I manage to rally. We make our way outside and are just chillen, talking to people, getting ready to call it a night. I go off and start talking to this guy for a few minutes, then my friend comes up, leans on my shoulder and says whats up. I look at him and ask if he’s “trying to fight” in an aggressive tone. He gets off of me and says “Nah I’m just saying what’s up man”. I don’t know why, I have literally never done this before, but at this moment I take a swing on him, hit him in the neck and he falls to the ground. My other buddy comes over and I knock him right by his ear and he goes down. All of a sudden lights and sirens come on so I book it the hell out of there and I’m gone. The cop comes over and tells my friends to stop messing around then just gets back in his car and leaves.
I am on my own now. Alone, black out drunk, in the middle of a big ass city. It was midnight when I left my friends. I didn’t come home until 6 am. I managed to lose my phone and my wallet along the way. Didn’t have any means to make it home since I had no money, credit cards or my phone to call an uber, and you can’t walk across the bridge that late at night. I was essentially stuck in the city for the night.
But by the grace of God, I make it home at 6 am. My memory is (kinda) back at this point, and the earliest thing I can recall is stumbling around in my drive way, stripping down cause I literally pissed all over myself. I’m not sure if this actually happened but I vaguely recall getting dragged out of the back of a car and basically dumped in front of my house, and yes, I am pretty sure I peed in the car. So now I’m in the nude on a 45 degree Sunday morning at 6 am, trying to break into my house because it has a door chain on it. I keep slowly moving the door in and out and all of a sudden the chain magically gets unhooked and I walk in my house. I am super hungry and immediately go to the kitchen to eat ice cream. I’m going to town on the ice cream and then my mom walks in and gasps, keep in mind I am still butt ass naked. She yells “what the fuck” and I simply reply with, “it’s not your problem”. She turns around in disgust and goes back to bed. I return to eating ice cream and when I’m ready, I go to bed.
Like I said, this happened a while ago but the scaries I felt that Sunday morning still shake me to the bone. Still have no idea what happened in that 6 hour black hole in my memory, I doubt I ever will. 6 fucking hours, what the fuck was I doing for 6 hours. But my hunch is I eventually met somebody responsible enough to realize I was a missing person case in the making and bought me an uber home. To that person, if you are reading this, thank you so much, you quite possibly saved my life. Unfortunately my dignity couldn’t be saved, I owed a lot of apologies and was overall very embarrassed and ashamed. Needless to say I have learned a lesson or two and that I can’t go as hard as I did in college. If anyone is wondering, things are all good with my friends, and no I haven’t taken any swings on anybody since, although I have still managed to black out and do stupid shit, this one takes the cake though.
So that’s it, my worst story EVER. Hope you enjoyed.
Damn, man, I don’t even know. Figure it out. Fucking hell.
Tough time over here man. Went on a bachelor party in Pure Michigan from Thurs-Sun which is way too long of a time. While i got to play a lot of golf and hang out with friends, we also drank constantly and did plenty of key bumps throughout the weekend. Ended up smoking weed with my buddy’s Dad which was fun. Also went to the casino and won about $1k on black jack. It wasn’t a bad weekend by any means, but now I’ve got to get home and pack because I leave for a week long work trip on Monday…so not ideal.
Not ideal but if you’re in #PureMichigan then it can’t be that bad.
I think what we need to learn from this is that most old people smoke weed. Like, all of them. The older you get, the more you realize that old people love getting high as much as anyone.
Yesterday I graduated College. Tomorrow I move to a different state by myself. Wednesday I start my real job. Shit.
Look at it this way — you could’ve graduated college and not had a job.
First time, long time. I’m currently having one of the worst experiences of my life as I am violently hungover on my way back from a weekend of shenanigans.
Rewind to Thursday, I decided to take a half day Friday and get an early start to the weekend. I live in Manhattan but decided I needed to get away, so I hit up some of my close friends in the fine city of Boston. I boarded an Acela train at Penn Station and arrived in B town around 8, I had 4 beers on the train and the lady next to me was extremely condescending to my consumption of alcohol, which didn’t set a good tone for the weekend.
I get to my friends apt and immediately start drinking, with no solid food base I begin to black out. After 11 the night was a blur, but thankfully wake up at said friends apt. Feeling awful, we just drank to cure the hangover. I forced my body to stay up and steamrolled into Saturday night where again, blackout is inevitable. Wake up Saturday. No shoes, no shirt on, left my card at the bar, cracked screen, and just in a terrible state. I was on the floor face down with a huge gash on my leg.
I booked a flight home Sunday because i just wanted to get back quick. I received a notification that I’d been bumped but I couldn’t wait so I searched for travel options. I found a bus service that was, basically an upscale trip with TVs, Big recliner seats, and a complementary meal/beverage service. This sounded fantastic. I call an uber and head to the bus…then it happened. I hadn’t realized how hungover I was, but that car ride TO the bus made me sick. I board the bus and now I’m here having gotten up three times to projectile in the restroom. I’m shaking and sweating, and reek of booze. I can’t even enjoy the amenities like I wanted to. At least the restroom has Lysol spray.
About to make another poor decision because I’m heading back to my Alma mater soon. The only light at the end of this 4 hour bus ride is Westworld. But I guess the lesson here is these violent delights have violent ends.
1. Please please please do not go back to your alma mater. You will regret it.
2. Buses are low key the best way to travel if you’re going a short-to-mid-range distance. I’ve started taking to a 3-hour luxury bus with wifi rather than driving the three hours and it’s completely changed the way I look at travel. You can work, watch a movie, whatever. It may hurt your pockets a bit, but if you know you’re going to be hungover than it’s 100% the move.
3. Eat before you drink, everyone. It’s a savior.
4. Subscribe to Freeze All Motor Functions if you’re into Westworld. Show is for me because I already have enough anxiety on Sunday nights, but I hear J-Bone and Ross do a great job.
So this past Saturday was our mid-season party for the kickball league I play in. Met a girl that played on another team and I was trying to spit my game with her but her drunk obnoxious teammate wouldn’t leave us alone and I could tell she was vibing me. So I went with the next best thing to ask her for her phone number, when I did she asked me what my intentions were and then told me that she had gotten out of a relationship and wasn’t ready to date meaning you can try but I’m going to shut you down. I’m now sitting here wondering whether or not to go for it or just throw it back.
Nothing sucks more seeing your home run being downgraded to a ground rule double because some jackass decided to reach over the railing for the ball.
I mean, if you like her, go for it. She may not want to get into a relationship but sounds like she could get her mind off this other dude by going to first base. See what I did there?
Will, my bros bachelor party was this weekend. Not my sunday scaries but his, so lets get into it. Its a little long but worth it. So my buddy is getting married next month so like death and taxes, a bachelor party was certain, which was actually this weekend. We live in the KC area so theres enough stuff to do around here to make a bachelor party memorable. So Friday rolls around and we all meet at the hotel. They have a strict “no bachelor party” rule so thats reassuring. The out of towners werent going to get here till saturday so friday we just went out for some brews, got a little tipsy, and called it a night. Saturday is when the fun starts.
The bachelor wanted to go paintballing so we spent 4 hours getting pelted with little balls of paint which was actually a good time since we had malibu. Not ideal for staying hydrated in 90 degree heat but its a bachelor party so fuck it. So we get done, head back to the hotel and the out of towners showed up finally so we all get dressed and head out for the casino. It was super packed since the nascar race was the same weekend so we had to call about 4 ubers cause the 3 before had no clue how to get around all the closed roads. Finally get there, lose a bunch of money in about 2 hours, buy and unnecessary amount of alcohol, and decide to leave the casino and head to the titty bar, as you do. Call another 3 or 4 ubers because of the same reason as before. Finally get one. At this point were decently drunk and we all just want to see some naked chicks pretend to like us.
We get to the strip club and head right for the front row with as many singles as we can fit into our wallets. This is where the story becomes less about me and more about my boy getting married. So one of the groomsman buys the bachelor a dance. So he gets taken to the back room by a solid 7. Hes in there for about 20 minutes and comes out looking happy. So, money well spent I guess? Another 15 minutes go by and another groomsman buys him 4 shots of the shittiest whiskey the club had and the bachelor is getting sloppy. Like very sloppy. (Oh I should mention, he has been drinking long islands since about 5 that afternoon.) Right after the 4 shots the same groomsman convince the dancer to give him another dance for free. He goes in, comes out looking absolutely trashed. (Still convinced the dancer slipped him something but I regress). At this point the club is closing so we go outside to call an uber and this mf cant even stand up straight.
So half our group drove here on their own so they went back to the hotel. And we call and uber for the rest of us. While we are waiting the bachelor starts projectile vomiting so obviously hes not going in the uber. So, me and 2 other groomsman get in the uber and leave the my boy and another groomsman back at the club at 2:30 in the morning and I was going to go pick them up in my truck when we got back to the hotel. As were in the uber, I get a call from the groomsman thats staying with my boy that hes about to get in a fight with some other guys still at the club. Perfect. He calls back and says the left thankfully and they still need a ride. I would also like to mention that his soon to be wife (I hope), is texting me asking what the hell is going on. I just ignore her at first but shes scary when she is pissed so after about the 5 angry text I just told her everything is fine and just left her on read for the rest of the night. So, the groomsman calls me back again saying hes getting ride from a girl he used to sleep with which is just funny af to me but thats just me. So we finally chill out for a little bit while they are heading back to the hotel. I get a text from him saying “I need to guys to help me”. I thought he was overreacting but they show up and hes in the trunk of this girls car with throw up all over him just absolutely blacked. So me and another groomsman carry my boy up the stairs at 4:45 am trying to be as quiet as possible. As we get to out floor the manager starts walking towards us. My first thought was “well shit now were getting kicked out and hes gonna have to sleep in on the grass.” However, he goes “I saw you guys on camera. Do you guys need a luggage cart so you dont have to carry him?” So unaware this manager was an absolute G, we take him up on that offer. Get my boy to the room put him in the bathtub and its time for me to pass out and thats exactly what I did. Problem was that I had to wake up at 10am to go to my very religious grandmas house and try to avoid the inevitable conversation on why I look so tired. I eventually wake up to about 7 venmo requests for shit I dont remember, no cash in my wallet, a pounding head, and my boy in the bathtub still.
I have a little case of the sunday scaries but I cant even imagine the sunday scaries my boy has. Pray for us. Oh and happy mothers day I guess?
The real MVP of this week is the hotel manager. If there were more people like him the world, everyone’s Sunday Scaries would be a little less. Shouts. Major shouts.
As always, please send your worst weekend stories to firstname.lastname@example.org and cure your anxiety with thousands of others. You make this column what it is and I can’t be thankful enough for it. See you next week. .