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I sit here sunburned from a Sunday round of golf where I drank two beers. This is how I know I’m old. Not to rub it in or anything, but we have somewhat of a fun week coming up here at Grandex. It’s WGC-Dell Match Play and you’ll be able to find me draped in Travis Mathew and other Man Outfitters from Wednesday to Sunday at Austin Country Club. It’s a rough life. Pun intended.
As always, we break some of the following stories down on Touching Base (subscribe on iTunes and SoundCloud). All the episodes can be found below. Proceed with caution.
Alright, let’s get into this week’s crop of stories which can be found unedited in quotes below.
I spent 100 to fuck a stripper that looked vaguely like Stiflers mom.
Oh, okay. So we’re starting off real hot this week. This was the entirety of his email, which makes sense because he probably spent the rest of the day washing his hands rather than typing on his phone.
Went on a family vacation to Daytona Beach and my parents decided I was allowed to bring a friend. First day or 2 goes by and nothing too crazy happened. We hit the beach for a few hours with a solid buzz, where my drunk self decided sunscreen is for chumps. Well, I ended up getting massive sunburn on my shoulders that caused them to blister…use sunscreen people. Just do it. Went to Universal studios the next day and enjoyed it, but my friend and I decide we need some more excitement and plan to hit the bars and clubs when we get back to the hotel. My sisters boyfriend he needed a break from her and tagged along as well.
Went to a bar that had people that were mainly our age (fresh out of undergrad and still looking to get trashed all the time). Played some pool and had some beers. A good time. Decide to go to the next bar, and this is where it gets weird. The doorman says “No cover charge for you guys”. HYPE. We walk in all excited over that and start doing shots. About 20 minutes later, we realize that the doorman didn’t waive the fee for “us guys”, it was “all guys”, because right then a huge parade of drag queens started rolling around the place for a drag fashion show. I’m not one to judge, but that just wasn’t our scene.
We dip out and naturally decide to hit the strip club nearby to even ourselves out post-drag show. All is going well there. Cheap drinks, lap dances, etc. I go off to a back-room dance with one of the dancers and return in a much better mood. Meanwhile my friend and sisters boyfriend look VERY distraught. Apparently one of the dancers had given them each a dance. She started telling them how she just left her 3rd stint in rehab for METH and asked them to go back to her place after her shift. We leave and find a seemingly more upscale strip joint a half block away. We’re all trashed and my buddy decides he’s going to assume a fake name and run with it. Fine. I don’t get why, but I help him out with a story and we both end up getting another dance. We bought one for my sisters boyfriend too since he seemed timid to do it himself and promise we won’t tell her.
Anyway, I don’t know why, but this girl took my pants off and starting licking and doing this humming thing with her lips around my junk. No complaints here. Dance ends and we walk back out to the floor. She sits on my friends lap and starts KISSING HIS FACE just minutes after my encounter with her. I almost vomit and he realizes what’s happening. We leave, again distraught. My sisters boyfriend gets a nice laugh out of this.
It’s now about 1:30am. As we’re walking down the road back to the hotel a guy starts saying “tree tree tree. Got that tree”. Our drunk asses are near blackout and decide we’re getting some of this “tree”. He walks us down a back alley and I immediately feel like I’m gonna be robbed/raped. My friend is a major stoner and is happy as a clam to be getting pot, so he disregards this atmosphere. He enters the random guys apartment, I wait outside. 30 minutes go by and there’s no sign of my friend. Sisters boyfriend bails and goes back to the hotel. I’m panicking and start calling my friend. No answer. Another 10 minutes goes by and he comes out looking like he saw a ghost. Takes off in a dead sprint toward the hotel and leaves me to follow. We get back and he tells me the random guy made him strip down to his underwear to prove he wasn’t wearing a wire. Then after selling the weed to my friend, asked him if he’d like to push a big bag of adderall before we left for the week and if he’d be interested in shooting porno flicks. I guess that’s what you get when you acquire weed the way we did. It’s now about 3am and we somehow find a place still delivering pizza. Pizza guy gets there and smells our weed, calls it out instantly. At this point I’m tired of this weird shit and just give him a full gram of it as his tip and he leaves. Seemingly unscathed I go to bed relieved the night is over.
Wake up the next day to my sister giving me the death glare….her boyfriend spilled the whole story to her while drunk.
Uh, okay, so we’re two for two on stripper stories. Some family vacation this was. My family vacations have normally consisted of posting up at the pool and being too tired (read: drunk) to do anything after 10 p.m. Call me crazy, but that’s how family vacations should go rather than getting stripped down and asked to do pornos with weed dealers.
So I spent all day Saturday looking for apartments to no avail and then met with some friends about an hour away in downtown Chicago. We pregames for an “always Sunny in Philadelphia” pop up bar at an arcade bar. I lost 30$ over the course of 3 games of NFL blitz 2000 (truly a masterpiece of a game).
I continued drinking and spending entirely too much money for a few hours before leaving with a couple friends to go back to the place we started drinking and pass out. Upon arrival the apartment owners were not answering their phones.
I decided to be the hero and go around back, and and hop fence to get into the side door. Climbed onto the dumpster, got my feet on top of the 9 foot fence and tried to drop down when things made a turn for the worst. My new white $250 Nike Foamposites got caught in the top. I fell into the dirt using my face and arms to break my fall.
Fortunately I was able to get in through the side door and let my friends in. I stayed up all night in agony and went to the ER in the morning where they told me my right elbow is fractured, my left wrist is sprained and put a cast on both of them.
My friends were helpful in driving me home, but my boss isn’t very happy and I’m in a lot of pain while staring at my brand new driver that I won’t be able to swing for 6-8 weeks.
This is what you get for putting the dollar sign after the number. I legitimately don’t understand how people are still doing this in 2018.
there's a special place in hell for people who put the dollar sign after the number amount
— will defries (@WilldeFries) December 7, 2017
Dammit dammit dammit.
Long time reader, first time emailer. I write this with an extreme amount of pain in my arms, a scrapped face and some serious scaries. I’ve often thought about emailing but my scaries usually only lasted a day, but this will be lasting at least 2-3 weeks.
Yesterday for St. Paddy’s a friend and I decided to get absolutely trashed at our pregame then hit the bars for the crawl. I’d hit a good stride about 30 min in after my 4th carbomb…it’s 11:30 am. As we started running low on baileys and Guinness, I brilliantly decided to take 4+? Jameson shots. That’s when things went dark and the blackout ensued.
What follows is the blacked in pieces I remember from this drunken stupor. After pregaming we must have hit a bar close to the apartment and quickly I’d lost my buddy. Credit goes to my status as a level 12 wanderer when I’m drunk. I then proceed to find some new acquaintances and probably annoy them, while taking squad snaps (see attachment).
Things get even hazier from here as I leave the bar. I then black back in and I’m walking through what appears to be a homeless camping site, I’m freaking out and have no idea where I am. I quickly make my way out of there and I see a familiar street. This familiar street is only a 3 foot jump down, I decide to go for it and jump, instead of sliding down. All good motor skills had faded me and I more or less fell onto the sidewalk and scraped up my face. I’m talking two cuts on the forehead, two on my nose and one on my lip. Not great……
Now I try to get up but I physically cannot. People casually continue to walk by me as I endure my hardest test of 2018. Finally I push up my scared body and open Snapchat to document the damage I’ve caused myself. My face, hands, arms and knees are all messed up. I thankfully decide to call it around 5:00pm.
As I walk home I seem to remember asking each person I passed, “how bad does my face look?” All of them said not bad, except for one dude who just laughed and said “yeah it’s fucked up.” I quickly stop into chipotle for some recovery food and pass out in the apt for 10 hours.
I don’t have a bad hangover yet and I have all my personal items (phone, wallet, watch, money) so I’m chalking that up as a metaphoric win. What I now have to figure out is, what story am I going to tell my bosses tomorrow morning. So far an asshole friend tripping me is in the top spot. I’m welcome to suggestions though. I then have to explain this story this coming weekend to my parents (who know all my bullshit) at my grandparents 80th birthday. This should be an interesting week to say the least.
Lessons learned here:
1. Don’t wander drunk. I legit can’t think of any reason why this would ever be a good idea. Unless you’re like on a beach or something, but even then you might stumble into a group on a family vacation who will try to derail your life.
2. St. Patrick’s Day… brace yourselves… stinks. Well, at least it stinks the older you get. You can only party like you’re 21 for so long before drinking green beer all day turns into more of a chore than a good time.
I decided Saturday was a good day to begin a diet. Ate hardly anything all day in anticipation of the big house party my boyfriend and I were having that night. I shampoo in a few beers before switching to prosecco when my friends arrive. Down the bottle and then an Irish car bomb. This is where things go dark. My few memories include my boyfriend finding me passed out in his bed, vomming on his floor and in the bathroom sink and choosing that moment to drop the L bomb for the first time. The house reeks and my scaries are at an all time high.
Ps his roommate who owns the house will be home in one hour and doesn’t know we had the party. Send prayers.
Nothing better than puking up Irish Car Bombs. I’d like to extend my sorrows to your landlord, who definitely hates you now.
What’s up, Will? Coming to you live from about 30,000 feet in the air via Emirates wifi. I don’t know if you remember me, but I submitted a story of my nightmare trip to a Montreal gay club about 6 months ago which you ever so kindly featured (Which if you remember I said I was going to ask my dad to pay my credit card bill, he didn’t). Well, I’m back and boy do I have a doozy this time around. Let’s get it.
So to provide a little context, I’m my dad is Muslim and his nephew, whom I know very well got married in Dubai last week. (I was a groomsman but unfortunately missed the bachelor party in Ibiza because I had grad school exams) Having only seen videos of the incredible area that is the United Arab Emirates, I was beyond stoked to spend my spring break there, albeit for a wedding. I go to school in Los Angeles so it just about a full day of travel to arrive in Dubai and I was completely knocked by the time I got there but not nearly enough to prevent me from hitting illustrious town with my cousins within 3 hours of landing.
The club was unlike anything I had ever seen before, the bars had bars and everyone in there must have been a millionaire because they were BALLING. Clearly not learning from my Montreal experience, I immediately decided to flex my non-existent financial muscle and split a $10k table with the 3 other guys I went with (who all have secure, high paying jobs). Somehow one of my cousins had already found a way to get cocaine so we started skiing in plain sight because we were drunk and didn’t care. This quickly attracted the attention of a group of girls who I’m just about positive were hookers but hot nevertheless so we invited them in.
Liquor kept pouring and the next thing I know me and one of the girl are being forcefully kicked out of the club for trying to get it on in the bathroom. The jarring experience of being thrown out by my jacket collar brought me to enough consciousness to realize that this girl was wayyy too hot for me and more than likely going to rob me if I took her back to my hotel, so I ditched her. I had lost my phone and wallet somewhere along the way so I had no way of getting a ride back to the hotel so drunk me decided to start walking. Made it about a mile before I decided I needed to take a break so sat down on the side of a mcdonald’s and unintentionally passed out.
Woke up to someone shaking me god knows how long later, was mcdonald’s staff telling me to get off their property or they were going to call the cops. The woman must have had pity on me because when I asked to use the phone she gave me a free bottle of water, (thanks Majda). Managed to in touch with my dad’s room at the hotel and he sent me a cab. Made it to the rehearsal about 90 minutes late and threw up on my table during one of the speeches in front of everyone. Needless to say, I was THAT guy for the rest of the ceremony and smartly bailed on all future partying.
In the aftermath I’m once again down about $4k which effectively finishes all the money I had saved up from commencement gifts and my summer internship. I’ve also been informed that I’m blacklisted from my family friend’s wedding in Cabo next May. To top it all off, the hostess on this flight just flat out said “No.” When I asked for a second burger even though I’m a platinum member. Starting to feel like I just can’t leave the US anymore.
I know, I know, “stop including college stories.” But come on, did you really want me to omit this guy? He went to Dubai for a wedding and is a platinum member on Emirates. I need this guy in my squad. Sure, he may do too much coke and make terrible decisions, but I’m banking on the fact that he’ll learn his lessons early and secure a baller job in an effort to make up for his terrible spending habits.
Dubai was littttttttt.
was originally planning to have a lowkey dinner friday for someone’s birthday. this lowkey birthday dinner turned into 5 double IPAs and getting peer pressured to go to the bar. got home at 3am and had to be at the pregame for leperchaun day at 7am. get there and immediately starting pounding the mimosas to avoid the hangover since i was still drunk. get to the bar at 1030 where they have an irish carbomb special. find some PEDs from a random guy in the bathroom and gladly accept. he also had ecstasy which being very intoxicated i also accept. this was around 1230pm. i do not remember anything until 5pm, but i’m still at the same bar standing on a table singing along to drop kick murphy’s. i’m somehow coherent enough to last until 11. finally give in and call an uber. i fall asleep in the uber and he has to actively shake me when we get to my house for me to stumble inside. slept on my bathroom floor due to the vomiting. it’s 845 sunday and i think i’m still drunk.
Jesus, man. Figure it out and stop taking drugs from random dudes in bathrooms.
Also, how much money to The Dropkick Murphys make on St. Patrick’s Day? That’s like the only reason they’re still around at this point, right? Same with Flogging Molly.
Never thought I’d be writing one of these in. 25 year old grad school student who’s been a long time stalker but first time sender of these. On spring break from graduate school and took your advice to NOT go back to my alma mater and instead decided to be a responsible adult and go to our national convention in Nashville.
Long story short we get there Friday afternoon and head straight to Broadway sober (terrible idea-not recommended) and I proceed to spend $230 that night alone. Ik that doesn’t seem like a lot, but to a broke grad school kid on student loans, it means I’m eating ramen the rest of the month. Also drunkenly decided to go to the NCAA 1st round games. Paid $60 for a fake ticket and tried to argue my way into the games only to be thrown out by security.
I skip the conference all day Friday and Saturday bc I’m a POS and don’t text my gf at all Saturday night bc of a dead phone. She got mad/worried and found out I lied about going to the conference and flips her shit on me for being a sketchy fuck.
Was supposed to stay until Tuesday, but I luckily caught a ride back tonight with some not so close acquaintances and am staring at a 7 hour ride back on Sunday night with an all night fight ahead and over drafted debit cards and an 8 am shift at work after I texted my boss for hours when I realized how broke I am.
Pray for my well being.
I’d pray for your well being, but that would be a fruitless effort. I’m not saying your girlfriend is in the right (gotta hear both sides) but you definitely didn’t make it easy for her to be happy with you. Happy wife, happy life.
The readers may remember me from my last entry after a weekend gone wrong in Tahoe last month. You know, with the gruesome hand injury and emergency surgery. Well thanks to a series of bureaucratic corporate nightmares, I’ve been off work recovering from the injury for the past five weeks. Sounds tight doesn’t it? Nope, it took me all of one week to realize being cooped up at home for an extended period of time sucks. I even adopted a puppy to cope with the cabin fever, which as I’m sure you know (shouts to Rosie) isn’t always as tight as it seems. As stir crazy as I’ve been, I’m now staring down the barrel of returning to work this week after a five week absence during which I was intentionally cut off from all work related activity. And even though I’m capable I’m not allowed to use the hand for anything for another two months (not even typing). I know we left Ts & Ps back in 2017 but I would appreciate them anyway.
Getting a puppy to cure cabin fever is like drinking ten beers to not feel drunk. It’s just going to backfire and blow up in your face. I bet that little pup was chewing the shit out of everything you own and making your place into it’s own personal dog park. At least you’ll have a chill-ass dog in three to four years, though.
I had a rough week, but this girl today just made me feel so much better about how my life’s going and can’t imagine what she’s gonna think when she wakes up tomorrow.
My friend was in town from grad school to celebrate her birthday, and I met up with her and some friends after they did what seemed like an aggressive brunch. Everything was chill for a few hours, til we notice this girl asleep against another friend. As we were snapping her she leans forward and starts puking in the middle of this beer garden, all over the ground and me as we tried to hold her upright so she didn’t faceplant into her puke.
After she empties the system, we send her and the dude she’s hooking up with back to his place since she lives way outside the city. The champ gets her in the shower and cleans her up (there was puke all in her hair so he is a saint). Back with the rest of the group, her mom calls the birthday girl worried as drunk girl hasn’t been answering her phone and wants to drive into the city to pick her up. Birthday girl drunkenly explains that she’s not with us but with this other dude and we’ll have her call. We then have to wake the two up to stop this girls mom from coming into DC to pick up her late twenties daughter.
Last we heard they had texted the mom but she was still concerned about where she is and was still thinking of coming in from Virginia. Luckily she doesn’t have to go back to grad school til later this week, but her boy has work in the morning. Send happy thoughts to him as he may have an angry middle eastern mother yelling at him shortly to end this day.
You always hear people say, “Let’s get them out of here,” to drunk people, but you never really anticipate that they’re going to throw up carafes of mimosas all over a beer garden. At least she puked in front of you and not while on her back in bed. Yeah, I just started Breaking Bad so I’m on high alert after Jesse’s girlfriend’s incident.
Sunday scaries are at a cripplingly high as I fear I might have jeopardized my first real job out of college. Let’s get into it.
My work team is spread out across the country, so we decided that in order to be efficient we would all fly to one location and work from a hotel. Naturally we go to california and make plans to work from the beach and “bond” all week. A disclaimer here is that I’m fresh out of college and brand new to this team where the manager is only 28. I’m extremely attracted to two of my coworkers, I have a history of getting physical with people I work with, and I’m pretty turned on by the thought of hooking up in a hotel paid for by my employer with another employee, so I feel pretty good about my chances with at least one of my coworkers.
On the last night in CA, all of us are absolutely unhinged. we are ordering sake bombs and “filthy” martinis and getting rowdy as hell at dinner. We move onto a wine bar and start pounding Malbec and Pinot like that was the real reason our company paid for us to fly across the country. One of the aforementioned coworkers, James, lives in CA and two of his roommates meet us at the wine bar and they are both really cute. Both are pretty into me and next thing I know I’m at another bar making out with one of the roommates next to my new boss and team. All of us are near blackout and singing before he cheats on the karaoke stage making absolute fools of ourselves. James and his roommates start to make moves back to their apartment, and I decide to Uber back there with them. Proceed to tell James I found him very attractive and then makeout with his other roommate. The rest of my team comes to James’ apartment just in time to witness me slink into his roommates bedroom and probably hear us have sex for a while. I sober up enough to realize that I probably shouldn’t stay the night and see my coworker in the morning and Uber back to the hotel. The next day I had an earlier flight so fortunately don’t have to see James or anyone else on my team even though I almost pass out in the TSA line.
Didn’t learn my lesson at all and continued to hoe it up in incredible fashion on St. Patty’s day and spent all of today laying on my couch hungover watching march madness and wondering if I’ll still have a job tomorrow. Only consolation is my school is one of the only top seeds to make it past the first weekend and I already bought tickets to see them play in the sweet 16.
Pray for my liver and dignity if we make it to San Antonio.
Wow. I mean, I respect that you’re a freak but getting some hotel sex doesn’t seem like it should be your main priority when it comes to a work trip. Cue the commenters “congrats on the sex” comments. Shaking my damn head. .
Worse Weekends Than You
This is a recurring PGP series. Catch up with all installments of Worse Weekends Than You by visiting the archive.