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Drunken Reader-Submitted Stories That Prove Your Weekend Wasn’t All That Bad

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.

Reader-Submitted Stories That Prove Your Weekend Wasn't All That Bad

Here’s the situation – There’s a major event on. An award show, a large sporting event, a golf tournament, whatever. Everything’s fine. You’re treading water. You think you’re going to be okay and that this Sunday will be an outlier.

But then it ends.

And you reassess everything.

And your life begins to crumble before your very eyes.

And you can’t sleep.

Then you can.

And then it’s Monday.

At least we’ve got some shitty weekend stories that’ll help you cope with the fact that you spent your entire Saturday and Sunday drinking heavily rather than bettering your life. Enjoy.

Will, I’ve had some questionable decisions over the years, but this weekend puts them all to shame. Decided to brunch alone. Apparently the female bartender liked me, as she asked me out (I’m also a female and straight, but I was flattered), and then gave me deeply discounted double mimosas. Browned out but somehow managed to figure out an uber home.

Woke up (at night) to a text from a friend inviting me out. He told me he was out with co-workers and they were already hammered. His texts were spelled correctly and coherent, so how drunk could they be? I took a few shots to catch up. Big mistake.

We drank heavily at the bar, and then were invited back with said friend’s coworkers. I was assuming we were going back to a crappy 25 year old’s apartment. Nope. Turns out the co-workers were housesitting for their boss; we ended up at an 8-bedroom house in the nicest part of town, complete with more beer and a hot tub. Fast forward a couple hours, and I have started to make out with my friend in the hot tub. Embarrassing, yes, but I could come back from it…. except he has a girlfriend.

Got dropped off at my apartment this morning after losing my dignity and $25, since he insisted we split the cost of Plan B. Just got a text asking if I thought there were security cameras pointed towards the hot tub. Hoping the answer is no, because if there are, the partner is getting quite a show and my friend is getting fired.

What a gentleman, splitting that Plan B and all.

Congratulations on being a highly sought after human, though. But I hate to break it to you: if this guy is rich enough to have an 8-bedroom house in the nicest part of town, he’s probably rich enough to have security cameras pointing at every part of said 8-bedroom house. And hell, he probably does things in the hot tub that he wants on camera too.

After a few weeks of drinking alcohol responsibly I felt ready for a wild night. A couple friends are moving to San Diego so we had a going away party at our favorite Mexican restaurant. Arrived at 6, browned out by 8. I FaceTimed my sister but have no memory of it, ran into my parents best friends and somehow managed to have a coherent conversation, and conveniently didn’t tell the guy hitting on me that I have a boyfriend so he would keep buying shots for me and my friends. I convinced my boyfriend to come get me around 9, but somehow we ended up staying until midnight, at which point I started crying because we had to leave and I was going to miss my friends. I couldn’t get out of bed until 5pm Saturday due to overwhelming nausea and a severe hangover. Realizing I forgot to buy my dad something for Father’s Day, I had to drive 50 miles round trip because the only western store still open was way on the other side of town. At least he liked his vest.

You can never reward yourself with a big night after drinking responsibly for a few weeks. That’s going to end badly ten times out of ten for the same reason “girls nights” always end with a group of guys joining up. Underrated part of the story, though? That vest you got your dad from a Western store in San Diego. Drop a link for us in the comments, if you’re so kind.

My friend literally took a shit on my floor. And I stepped in it.

The fact that this was the entirety of the email was both gratifying and incredibly concerning. I have so many questions, which I will outline below.

– Why did your friend shit on your floor?
– How did no one clean this up promptly?
– How drunk were you that you didn’t realize there was a pile of shit on the floor?
– How did you both get so drunk that neither of you were aware of the shitshow that was occurring?

Please forward your response to will@grandex.co and we’ll all be happy. Thanks.

Actually, don’t.

Graduated college last month, moved halfway across the country for a job. I know literally no one here. I start my first adult job tomorrow. Yikes.

1. Find the coolest looking guy at your place of work and force a work friendship with him.

2. Go to spin classes. Arrive early, leave late. You’ll figure it out.

3. Use the living fuck out of dating apps. No one knows you, you know no one. There’s no risk and a ton of reward. If you don’t hit it off with anyone, you’ll at least have a network of youung people in the area who you can possibly forge friendships with later.

Total shitshow for Father’s Day. All is good at the parents’ place to start the day. Mimosas to start gifts, dad gets that new Driver/3 Wood combo he hinted at during our round last month. We head to the club pool for some midday margs. We leave 4 hours later and this is when shit goes wrong. The garage door won’t open and of course no one has a key to the house. No neighbors who have a spare key are home either. Dad decides to call a locksmith and he tries for 20 minutes, completely destroys the door, then just grabs his shit and leaves. 2 hours later finally a friend with a spare house key can get back into town to let us inside. We still had our steak dinner, albeit delayed, and all is well, minus the front door lock, but still a Father’s Day gone wrong.

Okay, who gets their dad a driver and 3-wood for Father’s Day? Someone must’ve just gotten a raise because that’s just downright gawdy.

One of my buddies has access to IV bags and all the necessary accessories to administer them. I may add he is also trained to do so and has given us bags the morning after long nights of drinking. He was supposed to stay at my place last night and brought bags for us to do in the morning but ended up going home with a lovely lady, so a different friend and I decided it can’t be that hard and tried to give each other a bag while drunk at 3:30am to get ahead of the hangover. we’ve watched him do it to us multiple times and have also practiced and didn’t think it would be too hard. We got blood everywhere including the ceiling. Eventually got it right and I must say I think it was worth it

CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE: This e-mail communication and any attachments may contain proprietary and privileged information for the use of the designated recipients named above. Any unauthorized review, use, disclosure or distribution is prohibited. If you are not the intended recipient, please contact the sender by reply e-mail and destroy all copies of the original message.

Oh no. Please tell me there are drunken Snapchats of you two just jamming needles in each other’s arms to the point where blood is literally spewing onto the ceiling. As someone who dates a nurse who knows how to do this with her eyes shut, I’m actually jealous because she’s never actually given me one before I hit the hay. Glad you guys figured it out, though. That’s huge for your hangovers. Minus the fact that you had to wipe blood off your ceiling..

Also, I left the CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE in this because I’m fairly sure that this wasn’t a part of his email signature, but just something he copy/pasted into the bottom of his email. I respect the move. But as always, these remain anonymous and the identity will enver be revealed. Forward your best stories to will@grandex.co (not .com) and make everyone feel a whole hell of a lot better about themselves.

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Will

Will deFries (Twitter / Instagram) is a Senior Writer at Grandex and the world's foremost authority on Sunday Scaries (Twitter / Instagram). Email me at will@grandex.co.

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