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It’s always nice to do something special for the ones you love. This weekend, I gave my dog a $150 chew toy. Sure, it was in the form of a brand new pair of shoes that I left on the ground. And yes, I probably wouldn’t have given them to her had I not been trying to squeeze out an extra twenty minutes of sleep. And yes, it did completely ruin my entire Sunday morning when I should’ve been cheering for Jordan Spieth. But man’s best friend, you know?
Because I’m a member of the most transparent podcast in the history of podcasts, I’ll admit this – my biggest Sunday Scaries are completely driven by money. Overspending on a big weekend can derail me worse than a hangover, which is why I normally try to keep my dog’s toys in the $7 range rather than the three-figure range. But everyone who submitted their shitty weekends yesterday? Well, they made me feel like I at least mostly had my life together.
I just turned 20 years old a couple weeks ago, my friends and I decided to hit the town late Friday night after a half-assed 9 holes, and another blackout 9 holes of good old country club golf. We stumbled into the Alehouse, only to be surrounded by people 10-20 years older than us. I faintly remember standing, looking over the dance floor with the most generous double rum in coke I have ever received. Confidence being through the roof (as I am now 20 years old), I look to my right to see a hot little blondie standing next to me. The rest of the night is a blur. I lost my friends, ended up with a $100 bar tab, and came to on a 30 year old woman’s couch, ass naked looking at her cat. Safe to say I got out of there in a hurry, called up my friends and met them for some greasy drunk poutine.
The fact that you’re 1) drinking double rum and cokes and 2) the tender age of 20 years old, you’ve got a lot to learn in the realm of Scaries. I hate to tell you this, but it only gets worse from here.
To start I’m an intern at a non-profit in DC, so clearly I have no money.
Friday night started out fast after a nap then processed to a gay club where I’m asked to go on stage shirtless and twerk during a drag show. Only thing is, I’m straight and can’t dance. next thing I know i meet some girl and tell her i’m straight to which she responds good and ends in the sloppiest most drunken sex I’ve had (and that’s saying something) at the end of which I pass out while she is sitting on my face (can’t remember if this was from lack of oxygen, alcohol, or just tired). Wake up in the morning and she is gone but there are shit stains (!!!!!!) on my bed, like she wiped her ass on my bed. regardless she did not get a text back.
Saturday started slow and we ended up going to a “chill” bar, turns out it was a gay chill bar and people recognized me from the night before (yay?). The hot blonde from my building, who was also at the gay club the night before shows up and we start talking(but she’s kinda on a date??) then we play beer pong at the bar with beer glasses and end up breaking them(still won tho). Next day hot blonde invites me to a pool and we booze there. 10 icehouses in and i decide to get a 6 pack( still didnt know if the blonde was into me) and decided to get a 6 pack of Elysian space dust, and if you don’t know, it gets you fucked up. Back at the pool realize she is definitely into me as she is sitting on my lap biting me. basically a sure thing all i have to do is stay awake and cognitive through game of thrones with her friends. Well, as its me, i wake up at 12 to her cat licking me. Now I’m back at work after 3 nights of drunkenly passing out…
I almost omitted this because it’s a lot to take in on a Monday morning, but it’s my civic duty to bring these stories to the forefront so we can all learn from them. Yes, I gagged while taking a sip of my butter coffee, but here we are.
On Friday i went to a local bar after work around 4 with a few of my friends, a couple left early so it was only two of us around 1130 then he leaves, brown out and with what i think is a few minutes its last call. Don’t remember driving home that night.( perfect parallel park job btw ). Fast forward to Monday, we’re back at the same bar with the same guys. this time we decide to go to a strip club around midnight. drive 30 minutes to a average to below average strip joint. stay there till closing and spent 500 and only to get a a couple dances drinks and a old fashion from the oldest stripper there (my guess 38). woke up feeling really banged up and had the shakes by lunch. after that shit show of a weekend I have $1200 less to my name than the start of my weekend.
Don’t drink and drive people. Only takes one mistake to fuck everything up. That being said, don’t hang out with 38-year-old strippers. Or any strippers, really.
This past weekend I returned to my college town for an annual daylong canoe/drinking trip. Although it was the group’s fifth trip, it was the first I was able to attend. The formula for each trip is the same: arrive at the outfitter Saturday morning, put in the river, drink for five-six hours while riding the current 13 miles downstream, find the exit and catch a ride back to the outfitter. Due to general drunken debauchery, we flipped our canoe about two thirds of the way down the river and got separated from the other seven canoes. We lost everything in canoe except for one paddle and the swim suits on our bodies. From there, long story short, we missed the exit, couldn’t paddle back upstream to the exit, drunkenly tipped the canoe a couple of more times and, as night approached, had to enlist the assistance of a local property owner to drive us and our canoe two miles out to the nearest road so the outfitter could pick us up. I’ll be back next year.
Everything aside, that actually sounds like a chill sitch. At least it was only two miles rather than, say, fifteen miles. I expect an invite next year. You know where my DMs are.
So I thought I would start drinking heavily after work on Friday since I was going to hit up a string of shitty dive bars with some co-workers. I made myself a pitcher of Mexican mule when I got home. Well after I finished that I started to pregame with three of my co-workers so more beers were had. Thunderstruck came on and I knew I was gonna have a rough night. After that I was pretty damn inebriated. Ended up at a bar that was hosting the band Fuel (had no idea who they were until I heard Shimmer) where I proceeded to pound more beers. Wasn’t interested in the advances of the local…..lets call them ladies so I was just trying to pound everything I could get my hands on and cut the rug a little bit. Ended up violently ripping my pants up my leg on the dance floor of the bar but I had my knife on me so I just converted them into jorts. Bouncer saw said knife and was trying to throw me even though I was convinced half that bar was packing heat. Had to take an Uber to my buddies where I played one too many games of bar dice and apparently ended up putting too many pouches in as well as accepting a dare to eat a can of smoked oysters. Puked my fucking guts out. Woke up on my floor with that wonderful taste in my mouth and spent the rest of the day trying to fight off the beer/tequila soaked hangover.
Honestly, if you end up at a bar that randomly has the band Fuel playing, you’re winning ten times out of ten.
Fun Fact: My buddies and I were at a movie drinking 32-ounce whiskey-cokes when ‘Thunderstruck’ came on during the movie. This was probably in 2010. Next thing we know, we’re all playing in the theater. There were several dads there with their children and, in hindsight, they all knew EXACTLY what we were doing.
I am just recently post grad still living in my college town. Sister came in town this weekend and of course we didn’t stop drinking from the time she got here until the night before she left. She left this AM and afterwards I went to go meet some friends for brunch to find that my car had been broken into overnight. Reported it to the police and still went to brunch to partake in bottomless mimosas for the next few hours to forget it all happened and currently sitting on my couch, large Yeti with ice cold water in hand trying to sober up before the work week. Cheers.
I love when people end these submissions with “cheers” as if they make me want to drink. If anything, these stories are convincing me that I never want to drink again. That being said, probably going to put down a half-bottle of cab tonight to cope with Monday being Monday.
Got VIP tickets to a Lil Uzi Vert/Rae Sremmurd/Gucci Mane concert. Ended up front row in the pit. Some girl pushed her way up to my spot and bit me so I would move. Head butted her boyfriend for revenge but I may need a Tetanus shot because she broke skin…
The headbutt is an underrated fight move. It puts out the “I’m a complete psycho” vibe while also shocking the opponent. People criticize soccer for being a sport for wimps, but if you see Zidane’s forehead coming at you, you know you’re about to be on the ground in pain.
Didn’t do anything too embarrassing but Saturday night I ordered a pizza at 3am, passed out on my couch and woke up at 7am and I had four missed calls and two text messages from the delivery guy. Besides the waste of money I’m pretty disappointed the guy just didn’t leave pizza on the porch.
Passing out before your delivery gets there. A tradition unlike any other.
Ran into my college ex for the first time in four years. I ended our three year relationship the day before going to my friend’s wedding. Not a single word has been exchanged since.
Her: Dressed for brunch, designer purse, furniture shopping with her soon to be fiancé.
Me: Nursing a blackout hangover, clutching a G2, sporting flip-flops and board shorts.
Currently cueing up HBO and Post-mates.
Perspective, man. Would you rather be furniture shopping with the rest of your life planned out, or would you rather look like McConaughey in Failure To Launch? You probably gave her some second thoughts. Actually, you probably didn’t but that just seemed like the right thing to say.
I don’t know if this counts since I’m still in college but basically I broke up with my boyfriend, immediately started drinking, got kicked out of the bar, ran around CVS with my shorts undone trying to speak Spanish to French exchange students, got walked back to my friend’s apartment by a cop, physically assaulted my friend’s boyfriend, ran out of the apartment and passed out on a bean bag chair. Being single is great.
You’re great on Touching Base and can’t wait for you to cover Peter’s season of the Bachelor.
You and the guy above need to link up. Sounds like you’d be a great wrecking crew. I also solely included this because of the compliment you ended it with.
I got back from 80 days at sea on the 5th only to return to an unfaithful girlfriend. Moved my stuff out of our DC apartment and into a storage unit in three days. I drove what was left of my life to Florida. I’m living short term out side Miami while I take some work classes down in Florida. Since shooters shoot and I don’t know anyone down here. I fired up the old dating apps in order to form some sort of weekend plans. Got some nice matches and felt pretty good heading into the weekend with four dates to look forward to. Three of the four canceled at the last second and the 4th stood me up at a brunch reservation that I stood on my head to get PGP. Send right swipes and drinking buddies to SoFlo they can find me in the cut.
Well we’ve completely derailed, haven’t we? Thoughts and prayers to you, man. No one deserves to be treated like that. Keep rapid-swiping right and good things will come.
Very rough night up here in the last frontier. Flew back to Alaska for a very good high school friends bachelorette//bridal shower weekend. Bachelorette party got very wild and my last memory was dancing on a bar wearing some strange furs (source of furs is still unknown) thanks to picture evidence I believe they were Brown bear but can’t be sure. I do know they smelt terrible because my clothes need to be burnt. earlier in the night we bumped into a group of boyfriends past and I proceeded to make out with the first guy I went to second base with. So unbelievably hungover this morning and there’s no postmates here to rescue me. Rock bottom moment was calling my doctor mother to see if she could give me an IV of fluids. Somehow this feels worse than backsliding all the way to 9th grade. This is all proof you should never go home.
Did you get those fluids, though? My girlfriend is a nurse and she’s never hooked me up with an IV when I’m hungover. Yes, that’s major shade I’m throwing.
Alaskan bachelor/bachelorette parties sound tight though. Most of the time, dancing in bear furs on a bar is something we should all aspire to do.
Visited a friend from college.. bar was dead so we went to the strip club. Went for a private dance and did something that got me smacked. She was wearing a ring. Needless to say, I got kicked out. My friend was no where to be found. So with no idea where I was in the city I was visiting and no address I asked the uber driver to drop me off at the last place I remember being. Walked in circles 5 blocks at a time uncle I realized I was walking in circles.. Called another uber driver 2 hours later to take me to a restaurant near my friend’s place and found my way home at 7 am. Just looked at my call log and saw I called my ex 4 times. Also checked my iPhone health app and saw I walked 9.3 miles. I’m extremely terrified. Have to be in the office at 7:30 and will be coming up with an excuse for the cut on my forehead. At least I got my steps in. Talk me down.
I thought getting slapped by a stripper wearing a wedding ring was going to be the low point of this story, but calling your ex four times probably damn near gave you a heart attack. At least you got your steps in.
Was peer pressured into driving 2 and a half hours to a college buddies house this weekend in order to go play a country club that he promised he could get us on to. So saturday around 1:30 I roll out and get there right at four when we had said we’d tee off, spent most of the round pounding club specials and playing some of the worse golf I have in months. Fast forward to 9 o clock where we are finally back to his place, he says he’s got a bunch of girls coming over to pregame, said girls show up and everyone of them but one is good friends with my ex. So in order to cope with having to spend the next few hours interacting with them I think that taking pull after pull of fireball like a college freshmen was a good idea. This gives me the bright idea to take an aggressive run at one of them in which I think I’m I am killing it. So we get to the bar and I’m still trying my absolute hardest, which leads her and I to taking around 5 maybe 6 rounds of patron shots. Black out at the bars and come back to puking in my buddies sink in my boxers where I discover I had been laying on his kitchen floor in a ball since we got back from the bars and I ran up a tab equal a third of my net worth. My buddy has to catch a flight at noon so I’m essentially kicked out at this point and missed the entire Sunday round of the open because I was driving home.
Wait, five or six shots of Patron? I know I’m washed that but that’s an aggressive lineup of shots for someone who’s already been hammering drinks all day. Nothing but respect coming from this end; you’re a stronger man than I.
Spieth, though. .
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