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“Bender Through December” we used to call it. But really, it starts in November. I have to admit — I haven’t even been drinking that much. Beer here, cider there, glass of cab mixed in elsewhere. But I’ve been eating like a monster. It’s almost like every weekend is “pie” week on The Great British Baking Show in my apartment. More gravy, please.
But I feel like shit. My body can’t take this many calories.
While The Sunday Scaries Podcast doesn’t exactly ease my Scaries because, well, I host it, it should help yours. You can subscribe on Spotify and Apple Podcasts. This week’s episode was Scandinavian as hell, minus the part where I talk about the pros and cons of working from home. You can even listen here:
Now let’s get into this weekend’s crop of stories. As always, they’re sent to me anonymously to firstname.lastname@example.org and I’d love to hear some terrible stories of your own.
So Friday got called into the boss’s office wondering what I was in trouble for. Turns out it was just time to give out the yearly bonuses, whew. As a fresh graduate this is my first working holiday season and bonus so naturally we go celebrate. Don’t remember the back half of the night but wake up Saturday and the phone is nowhere to be found. Wallet, keys and watch all accounted for but no phone. Tried to get a new one on Sunday after searching all day Saturday but insurance has to mail it after you file a claim. Writing this Monday morning at my desk where I am currently waiting on my phone to arrive sometime Tuesday.
Losing your phone is worse than losing your wallet, keys, or watch, right? It’s more expensive, more annoying to replace (whether you do it on the phone or in an Apple Store), and it’s annoying to be out of contact with the outside world. Just beyond miserable.
People always say that bad things come in threes and this weekend was by no means an exception. This weekend was supposed to be great, although that’s how many terrible weekends begin, and was the weekend of a formal for a college sports team I’m in.
The girl I had planned on going with is a total piece and I was more than ready for an excuse to party with her. However, Saturday morning started with me waking up only to check my phone and find that my date had one too many last night then took a tumble down some stairs that had gotten a fresh dusting of snow. A few hours before the event I was out of a date and imagining the looks on my friends faces as I walk in the only person alone and they proceed to they roast me. I admittedly panicked and sent out texts to every girl I had half-heartedly started a conversation with or who’s number I had gotten and forgot about. Luckily, a mere 45 minutes later a girl who I had been nursing a soft spot for told me that she’d like to go with me, it seemed it was crisis averted and I got ready for the night’s festivities.
Cut to the beginning of the evening and I arrive with my date. We start playing beer pong against one of my assistant coaches and his girlfriend. I then dip out of the game for a second to go get stoned with a couple of my buddies. I walk out of the hot box to see my date starts yelling at my coach saying, “Call me a Bitch you fucking pussy” and then she goes over and slaps him across the face. What do you do when you realize you have to spend the rest of the night with a girl who is starting fights with your friends unprompted? The answer I came to was simple, drink.
The end of the night mercifully comes, and I walk this girl home and manage to get her into her building without her racking up any assault charges. At this point I was pretty hammered so I ended up crashing on my friends couch to stumble home Sunday morning still buzzed. As I try to enter my building I’m stopped because an entire tour group is leaving, and I hopelessly stand there as each and every one of them has to walk by me smelling like weed, cheap vodka, and vomit still wearing a suit from the night before. Looks like I’ll be doing a lot of conditioning next practice.
I’ll get shit for including this because the commenters will say that PeOpLe In CoLlEgE DoN’T GEt ScArIes but I want to confront his date. Yes, the one who slapped a conditioning coach across the face. Considering you have no real affiliation with her outside of having a soft spot for her, I think you just tell her to leave and risk getting slapped in the face as well? I’m not sure — she seems unhinged and I’m not positive letting her stick around for the rest of the night is the move.
I’m writing this from my desk at work. I’ve never had the Sunday Scaries on a Friday morning before, but the existential dread is creeping in. (Or is this just what it feels like to sober up at your workplace?)
I play in an adult kickball league and most of my team are attorneys or other early-thirties professionals. We are lousy at kickball, but at least there’s beer! I arrive at the field with my cooler last night, care of my designated driver (another player on the team). I haven’t eaten, but I’m one beer in upon arrival, and I start slamming more to “keep warm.” By the end of the game, I’m riding steady, maybe 5 beers in. I may be pretty tiny, but I consider myself seasoned, so I’m not in the mood to slow down when we arrive at the bar. The league offers free pizza, but there’s so much happening, and I never make it to the other side of the bar to grab some. (While writing this, I would absolutely kill for some pizza.) I do, however, make it to the bar a couple times to order pitchers. In fact, by the end of the night, we’re arguing over who is going to buy the next pitcher, and it occurs to us that everyone at the table has ordered 1-2 already – and they’re all gone. This helps to explain the preceding events..
After the first couple pitchers are drained, the karaoke begins. I tell myself that I’ve really missed karaoke since our last kickball season (The afterparty following each game is at local bar that hosts karaoke on Thursdays). I tell myself that I LOVE this shit. I clearly don’t know who the hell I am anymore – I’m a terrible singer! I don’t know any song on earth well enough to do karaoke. I should NOT be this excited about karaoke. Karaoke is not for me. But I have the support of my team, and we’ve got a couple killer singers with us who sign us up for Africa by Toto, some Backstreet Boys songs, and a few others that I now, unsurprisingly, can’t recall. I’ve made it through the night mostly unscathed. There are only two microphones, and they’ve been kept relatively far from my loud mouth so far. But the Lil Dicky song Freaky Friday has been in my head since I heard it being played on another team’s speakers on the kickball field. I convince my friend (one of the good singers) to put us in for the song. He knows the song. He’s a great singer. I’m thinking that I’m just going to go up and coast while he slays the whole thing. He notes that there is about 30 seconds of the song that he can’t do. But I’m drunk and I don’t think anything of it. We make it flawlessly through the “n-word” part of the song, by not singing the word and instead throwing our hands over our mouths in a feigned “shocked” expression each time it’s said. We get a hearty cheer from a black girl standing near the front. She seemed to be just as relieved as us that we had opted out of saying any variation of the word at all.
Then I realize what part of the song my male counterpart is not going to be able to sing. It’s the part in which Kendall Jenner is talking about exploring her vagina. So there I am, in a room full of locals and *cringe* many other attorneys as I belt out Kendall Jenner’s part into the microphone (there’s no backing down now!).
Excerpt: “Holy shit, I got a vagina, I’m gonna learn.
I’m gonna understand the inner workings of a woman!”
This morning I awoke, sans alarm clock, but early enough I can make it to work on time if I skip a shower. I’ve been in a permanent state of “cringing” as I recall the looks on everyone’s faces as I serenade them about my lady bits. Worse yet, my phone was manned by a friend, so I have LOTS of pictures and videos of the whole debacle. Those will be deleted as soon as I can bring myself to look at them.
What I really need to know from you guys though, is whether bringing a large Gatorade into the office on a Friday morning is admitting defeat in front of my whole team of subordinates, or if there’s a chance at all that they won’t jump to the conclusion that I’m sweating liquor this morning?
I should have called in sick. It’s only going to get worse from here.
No. Had you called in sick, everyone would’ve known you stayed home in shame. Going in was the move. BUT, without the Gatorade. You have to go in with something more inconspicuous than a Gatorade. Pedialyte in a Nalgene bottle or something. Maybe some Liquid IV (shouts to Liquid IV). But with all that being said, delete every video and photo from your phone. It’s not worth the flashbacks when you open your photos.
I love this column – it gets me through my Mondays. I do a lot of stupid shit but the Sunday Scaries haven’t been as real as they were this Sunday in a long time and that’s what this column is all about.
Apologies that this is a bit long, it was a whole weekend spiral looking back. Friday night went fine, got a few drinks with my brother and friends after work and headed home at a decent time. Planned to not go out Saturday night but Saturday morning rolls around and a friend asks if I want to go watch college football at a bar in Midtown. It was a noon game so I figured I’d go for a bit then head home and not get too crazy. Get to the bar and meet her and her boyfriend and she orders us a bucket of beer so already can tell it’s probably gonna get crazy. Find out this bar is an official alumni bar for the team we were watching so it’s packed and people are lit. The game goes by and we’re pretty drunk and she asks if I want to go back to their apartment to “go skiing”. End up getting some, then after it was her idea to do it she decides she wants to go take a quick nap before other friends get there because she’s not feeling great. She ends up not waking up again for the rest of the night, the other friends end up not making it and it turns into just me and her boyfriend railing lines and doing shots all night until 9am when I finally decide my anxiety is through the roof and I need to make my way home.
Get home and force myself to shower, then wake up at 4pm and realize I’m so hungover I can barely stand up. Figure food could help, so order seamless then when the delivery guy rang the doorbell to my apartment I was in the bathroom and startled that he came so quick. I hadn’t put on shoes or gotten my keys or anything because those were in my room. He makes his way up to my floor and I step just a little bit too far out into the hallway to grab it from him. The door slams shut and locks, leaving me with no keys, phone or shoes in the middle of the hallway wearing the shorts and t-shirt I had slept in. Immediately start panicking because neither of my roommates are home and this is NYC where winter is a real thing and we don’t live in a house or first floor of an apartment building where you could try to break in through a window. Knock on my super’s door to try to see if he has keys. His family is Albanian and barely speaks English and he’s not even home so I’m trying to explain to his wife what had happened and she’s catching like 1 in every 5 words. We’re finally on the same page and she explains that she doesn’t have spare keys and that I should call the landlord. Tell her I don’t have my phone, she calls our landlord and they’re arguing with each other in Greek probably about how dumb I am, and she then puts me on the phone with the landlord who explains that I either have to wait for one of my roommates to get home, call a lock smith or there’s a safe in the basement that has keys to every apartment in it but it may be hard to open. Try the safe and it of course doesn’t open, but my super’s wife explains that someone is coming in a half hour that may be able to help. She then invites me into their apartment to wait for the other person and I end up watching Paddington Bear with her daughter. The person takes way longer than expected and it ended up being 2 hours before keys arrived. We go to open the door and discover that one of my roommates had come home during that time anyway.
Moral of the story, don’t go watch football on Saturday when you hadn’t planned on it because you’ll end up hungover in your super’s apartment wearing pajamas with your seamless getting cold.
Who does shots until 9 a.m.? Who takes a nap after or before “going skiing”? How did you not just end it when you locked yourself out of your apartment?
But in all seriousness, imagining you sitting in an apartment with a bunch of people speaking foreign languages around you while you watching Paddington is downright hilarious. I know this submission was long, but that one paragraph made it all worth it.
First time long time and all that jazz. Just joined the post grad life and had my first office Christmas party on Saturday. Had a pregame with all my fellow new coworkers and ubered to the venue. Open bar so the whole squad was getting after it. Actually made it through the event unscathed, talked to the bosses and didn’t make a fool out of myself (big ups to myself). However, me and some coworkers went to the bar for a little post game action. Here’s where it starts to get more interesting, got a little over served at the bar and decided it was a good idea to meet up with my college buddies at about 3:30 am. Being very drunk it was not as easy as planned and I ended up going to the wrong apartment. I was banging on the door and cops ended up showing up and I tried to convince them I was at the right place (I was not). Cops ended up putting me in the back of their car and dropping me off at a taxi (very happy I was not arrested, love my boys in blue). Now I am at the airport waiting to get on my flight for a lengthy business trip. T’s and P’s would be much appreciated.
Major shoutout to the boys in blue for doing the right thing here. Not the first time I’ve heard of them doing something like this. But I imagine you were shitting your pants in fear when you got lead to the backseat. I probably would’ve fallen asleep.
Had some buddies visiting for the weekend so we started drinking around 6 Friday night. Couple light beers nothing bad, we then got invited to a brewery that was having a Christmas party. We decided to go but pregaming a place with 7.2% IPA’s is never a good idea.
Nonetheless we arrived already pretty drunk. Ended up blacking out bad and apparently I was flirting (people said I was passionately engaging with this girl all night) with a girl who was quite unattractive. I can live with that but the girl I’ve had a thing with for a while was getting snapchats of it sent to her.
She was not pleased and ended our fling with saying my standards were so low that she didn’t even care and was happy to be done with it.
Real shame but moral of the story is don’t pregame a brewery as your move for the night out.
-also didn’t take said girl home so that’s somewhat of a relief.
We’re in prime “be careful with breweries” territory. As someone who loves Christmas Ales, there’s nothing more dangerous than drinking three of them and thinking, “Oh, I just drank three beers, no big deal.” Unfortunately, they’re like 7.2% each and you essentially drink a six-pack in the span of an hour.
On Saturday I drove from Austin to San Antonio for my company holiday party with my wife. My company paid for a hotel room and we planned on staying the night after the party. It ended up not being a very good time and we decided to drive back around 10PM (drank very responsibly so no worries of drunk driving). Wake up Sunday morning, very refreshed and proud of our decision to drive home the night before. I walk outside of my apartment to go grab some breakfast for my wife and I, to find my truck “on blocks” as they say. All 4 of my tires have been stolen. Cheers to filing a police report and dealing with insurance people all next week.
While this obviously SUCKS, it’s hilarious too. I mean, just look at the photo. I’m crine.
So much worse than having a boot on your car because you parked like a dumbass. Just so much worse. And from what I can imagine, truck tires aren’t cheap. Hopefully insurance came through for your boy.
I just woke up on my buddies couch after going to a bar yesterday with a bunch of my friends from college. My day/night ended very early due to the fact that I decided to be healthy and drink vodka sodas but I drank them like beer and blacked out at 5pm. So apparently i ubered back to my friends place (had to break in through a window since the door was locked) and his semi girlfriend (fucking but not exclusive) was there. My buddy was also there but he was passed out. His semi girlfriend and I end up having sex in the living room and in the middle of that everyone came back from from the bar and saw us. And I also got a nose bleed in the middle of the night so I’m covered in blood and so is his couch. I think my best option right now is to clean up, and drive off into the sunset before anyone wakes up as if I was never there..
“Be healthy and drink vodka sodas.” I love the way we reckon with ourselves. He also followed up on this nightmare scenario and somehow made things much, much better.
You aren’t going to believe this but no one remembers walking in on me and that girl last night except for the girl. Dodged a major bullet with that one but my buddy is still pissed off about his bloody couch.
lt,ft checking in from a Colorado airport on my way to the west coast for a last-minute meeting with the company president. Small firm, but could be getting the call up to the big leagues.
Had to leave a family holiday tradition early to board the flight, and scaries are currently a firm 8/10 because every mom is psycho at the holidays. Left a pregnant wife and 2-yr old at home having done no Christmas shopping and lacking any idea what is to come from this meeting. Could be a great Christmas, or a Griswoldian disaster trip to the 7th layer of hell.
I’ve also had exactly one beer. Anything is possible.
You know what they say about one (1) beer. You got this.
I read it every week, but this week it really got me. Sober scaries are the worst scaries. I had a chill, genuinely relaxing weekend and was feeling great going into Sunday morning. Apartment was spotless, podcasts had been listened to.
Things took a turn when I watched my Eagles lose in a heartbreaker against Dallas. Things got far worse after the game when I got a FaceTime from my sister. She informed me the family dog that my divorced parents share custody of was at the animal hospital due to (apologies for the grossness) the fact that she was bleeding out of her ass. Apparently it’s very bloody diarrhea and the hospital wanted to keep her overnight, but my dad did not want to foot the bill for that and it turned into a whole big fight between him and my mom, so the dog is at my mom’s until she can go to the vet in the morning. I’ll be up all night texting my mom to make sure the dog is still alive. Always investing in pet insurance when I get my own animals. T’s & P’s for the dog appreciated.
Nooooo. I was hoping we’d make it through this week without a sick dog. Everyone please go home today and hug your dogs. Please.
Friday night I dropped a couple hundred on beer and merch at a concert. Went Christmas shopping today and I’m scared to check my bank account.
That’s not the worst of it. I attended my work Christmas party Saturday night with my new company. Proceeded to black the fuckkkk out after having not eaten much all day and lack of sleep. I have very vague memories of one of my coworkers waking me up in a booth and calling me an uber. I am absolutely TERRIFIED to go to work tomorrow. It’s currently 12:15 am and I can’t sleep because of my anxiety. Wish me luck.
It’s honestly hilarious that even though everyone knows they shouldn’t get absolutely obliterated at their office holiday parties, they still do. It’s truly something.
Alright, let’s get it this Monday. After next week, we’re all essentially in coast mode so let’s listen to some podcasts, drink some coffee, and get this paper. .