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Sake — top three for buzzes, top three for hangovers. It’s a liquor that will make you feel like a million bucks until it doesn’t. Learned that the hard way on Saturday night when I woke up thinking, “I don’t even think I drank that much last night” only to realize it wasn’t the quantity of drinks, but the type. But I’m not here to tell you about my weekend, though. I’m here to bring you horror stories from our beautiful readers.
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.
It all started with a breakup. My bff finally broke up with her boyfriend earlier that afternoon. It’s kind of one of those like “maybe you should tell him after your stuff is packed and you already have the new keys” but she assured me that he could be an adult about it. Lolzzzzzzz At least I tried.
I get a text from her (she was staying in a hotel) while I and two other friends are walking back to the car to call it a night (at 11:30…on a Saturday…did I mention I’ve been a postgrad for a while?) that informs me that all her stuff is by the dumpster. I’m like 6 IPAs and one lychee martini in so I decide, we have to go get her stuff, or at least whatever would fit in the car. My two guy friends agree with my awesome plan which in hindsight, maybe they should have shut it down.
We get to the apartment complex and of course, the dumpster was empty. I snap a few photos to text her that “all is clear, he’s just being a dick” and as I head back to the car, homeboy ex is TSA’ing (1/3 carrying, 1/3 kicking, 1/3 throwing) a suitcase and overnight bag down the sidewalk. I meet his eyes and say, “I’ll take those” in the most cheery and helpful way possible. He didn’t like that. At this point, the guys are out of the car and homeboy ex immediately goes to one of my friends to maybe try and fight him? Not sure, he’s belligerent and clearly didn’t expect us. He expected his now ex gf and instead got her friends…my bad, dude.
My friend immediately takes him to the ground and informs him, we’re not here to hurt you, just here for her things which were supposed to be by the dumpster. He finally understands and gets up and starts yelling, “get her shit, get it all out, get it the fuck out, everything!” The three of us start packing up the car, a pure grab and go situation all while trying to avoid the candlesticks, mirrors, ceramics he’s pitching out the door. Not sure if he was truly aiming for us or just wanted to break all the things, but it was nuts.
The Jeep at this point is nearly filled, so he’s been on board with us getting her things for like 15-20 minutes? He now decides, nope. I’ve had enough of this and comes out with a golf club. The same friend who took him to the ground was able to get the golf club. My other guy friend throws it in the bushes. He didn’t like that either. A silent agreement was made to GTFO. The friend who had been the driver and de-escalation ninja has called 911 at this point, I guess he knew it wasn’t over because SURPRISE…it’s golf club #2 time. My friend is walking backward with his hands up saying loudly and clearly, so 911 can hear, “I’m leaving. You can put down the golf club. I am not going to hurt you but I am armed and I will defend myself”. I guess he had a pocket knife.
I have one foot in the car and one foot on the ground, I freeze. Flight or fight mode sucks. I decide to not stay in the car in case he’d like to turn his attention to me and bash the windows. I back slowly away from the car in the opposite direction. The guys end up like 15 parking spots down and at this point, neighbors are videotaping and are fully engaged in what is unfolding. The other friend who hasn’t had a real role yet tackles homeboy ex from behind as he tries to swing the club. They finally subdue him in which case my friend shouts, “someone call 911”. Apparently, the neighbors were unhelpful giving him the full address? I call because I knew the address and burst into tears trying to explain I never meant for this to happen, completely not helpful to the poor person on the end of the line. She gets the address from me, keeps asking if a medic is needed. Apparently, I should have said yes because they would have gotten there sooner? (Fun tidbit to know in case you ever experience this.) A few moments later, a helicopter starts to circle. The spotlight is now illuminating the guys. Once a spotlight of a helicopter is on you, one would think you would just lie there and chill out. Ha, not this guy, he’s thrashing away and yelling, “I’ll kill you. This is my property. Get the fuck out.” Well, we tried but then you had to go get another golf club…
The 911 dispatcher promptly informs me that the helicopter wasn’t necessarily for us but was in the area…ummm well, Miss 911 Dispatcher Lady, they may not have left the pad for us, but they are here for us now. I hang up with her and walk closer to the guys as the officers should be there soon. Out of nowhere comes this huge linebacker-looking dude. He calmly walks over to the guys, clinks his pink, sexy time handcuffs, and rolls homeboy ex further onto his stomach and cuffs him. So now we’ve had golf clubs, helicopters, and pink handcuffs all because I wanted to get her things from a dumpster. Cops finally show up and exchange the pink handcuffs with the real ones. He’s still yelling and belligerent saying we attacked him so much so that now he is disrupting the peace and he has to go sit in the police car.
No dignity is left for this guy. The FIVE cops cite us for nothing. He may get simple assault or more depending on what my friend decides. Luckily, he didn’t burn the rest of her things that night because she was able to get everything else later the next day. Just a terrible case of a bad timing “and a lot of alcohol” according to the officer. Can’t argue with you there, sir.
Stay safe out there, kids! If you live with someone, pack your things up and get them out before telling them you’re leaving or don’t. Take your chances so I feel a bit better about this.
What did I just read. I need to be transparent as humanly possible here: I’m just starting my first coffee of this Monday and I’m having trouble comprehending this entire story. Like, can we get some confirmation on this? Had to be some readers in the general vicinity when this was going down, right?
This guy sounds like an absolute psycho, probably because he is one. But just when this story can’t get any weirder, she sent a follow-up the next day.
Hi Will,
After multiple conversations with friends, they feel I need to inform you that the crazed, golf-club wielding maniac has a prosthetic leg. Apparently, it’s some “beautiful poetic white trash” addition to the story that while he’s TSA’ing her things down the sidewalk, he was doing so with a huge limp, probably both from his leg and the alcohol. I originally left it out to be somewhat nice and not give all the identifying factors, but now that the bestie is safe in her new place, I say screw it. Not sure that this even matters, I guess I’m trying to make myself feel better by outing all this, but he lost it via a motorcycle accident, not in some horrific way fighting overseas.
Thanks!
I, uh, I don’t even know at this point. Maybe I should retire this series altogether.
Subject: I cut my ponytail off.
My 23rd birthday was last night. Went to a bar on a Sunday. Get home at 3am, and decide to cut the elastic out of my hair. I cut half the hair off with it. What are Monday scaries?
Happy birthday to me.
Sent from my iPhone
You went full-Britney on your 23rd birthday. Never go full-Britney on your 23rd birthday. Also, can someone weigh in and explain why she had elastic in her hair in the first place? Extensions? I’m well-versed in scented candles and face creams, but I struggle with female hair issues. Thanks.
I threw up in an alley and walked into brunch 10 seconds later. It’s only Saturday.
I feel like half of New York City does this every weekend, bud.
Will,
I’m sitting in my alma mater’s dark artsy coffee shop avoiding the sun and as much human contact as possible.
My boyfriend of several years and I broke up two weeks ago. On Thursday I discovered that my closest friends were all leaving town for the weekend, my best friend heading off to sunny California (bitch) and my college buddies turned work buddies were heading back to the old stomping grounds for one reason or another. I decided to go along for shits and giggles.
It turned out to be more shit than giggles. I swear college kids are getting younger. Some of them looked like they weren’t even legal to drive a car yet. The tide pod joke was funny to most of them. I felt so incredibly old.
I’m not saying it was the worst idea (it might have been), but these scaries are the kind that demand a fuzzy blanket, candle, and no pants. I have a 6 hour car ride ahead of me, and my only comforts are coffee and Hozier filling my ears.
Send sleepy vibes so that I might be able to make the car ride a little less miserable.
It’s been a while since I’ve said but it’s worth echoing again: never. go. back. to. your. alma. mater. Especially when these people are now your coworkers.
Last week on Touching Base, someone asked me the last time I had a legitimate conversation with a 22-year-old person. Outside of our interns, I struggled to come up with someone. It’s legitimately been, like, two years.
I have a hickey the size of a golf ball on my neck and plans to skype my dad in an hour. I don’t own any turtle necks either. Scaries at an all time high.
Sent from my iPhone
1. Congratulations on the hickey. Have never fully understood why people give them, but good on you.
2. Who doesn’t own multiple turtlenecks with their initials monogrammed on the collar? Am I not getting through to anyone anymore?
Subject: 24 hours with a mom, daughter and a Job Interview
Male, Mid-20’s (Hoping people start doing this before their stories)
This occurred during the National Championship game in Atlanta, GA.
Flew into ATL from the West Coast on the Sunday night red eye for what I thought was an informal job interview and then would drive back to the city in which I just finished graduate school in. Went to a Buckhead bar for the game with my friend from ATL who I was staying with and some of his friends. Pitched $100 for a table that basically ensured unlimited drinks for the night. I’m poor so I wanted to get my money’s worth and the interview wasn’t until 3:00 pm the next day, no big deal, right?
The game ended and some late 2000’s ATL rap bangers were being played so I was feeling it. Ended up on the table making out with a girl who was excited about the ‘Bama win. I expected my buddy who was not on the same level to eventually talk some sense into me and initiate our journey back to his mom’s place where we were staying but things did not work out that way.
I soon found myself in an uber with table girl, my buddy, and a woman who turned out to be table girl’s mom. We arrived at their Embassy Suites hotel room (couch area and bedroom separated with a door). We were all enjoying some beers, but I got up to relieve myself. As I was peeing I heard the bathroom door open behind me and table girl walked in. She began to “assist” in me relieving myself and then quickly turned the shower on. I thought this was to mask any noise from her mom but she quickly got in and told me to join. After some fooling around and a bad case of whiskey dick we made our way back out to the couch. I then realized my buddy was in the bedroom with the mom.
Woke up the next morning hung over as hell and put my jeans on that were soaked with shower water. Table girl asked me to call her phone so she could find it, I looked for her contact but realized I did not know her name, so I just handed her my phone. She did not seem to be pleased. Buddy called an Uber and we made our way back to our place when he revealed that table girl’s mom had initiated a sexual encounter with him that involved her fingers in and around a certain inappropriate orifice of his, he was visibly shook.
Took a nap, popped an addy, and got to the interview which I thought was to be low key but ended up sitting in a conference room for three hours while nearly every person in the firm (including the founder and CEO) came to speak to me in 20-minute increments. This was followed by drinks with 8 employees. All in all, it was a 4.5-hour ordeal and I had not eaten in over 20 hours but was able to keep it together fairly well. I actually feel decent about my chances and should know more in a week, will report back.
Is this the job interview from hell or is this the job interview from hell? Should I get fired anytime soon, please remind me to lock myself in my bedroom until I have an interview somewhere else. We’ve seen this happen all too much in recent memory.
That being said, we need to hear back on how this went. If you get the job, that’s like pitching a perfect game after taking down 30+ beers on a cross-country flight.
i’m the one that had sex with a stripper last week. got this text from my college roommate:
The one kid i was with ate the asshole of an Atlantic City stripper this weekend.
may be scaries for him, but makes me feel better
Sent from my iPhone X
You guys need to figure it out, man. This isn’t how adults operate.
Will – drinking bottomless screw drivers to start a Sunday isn’t a great idea. Getting high and watching war movies while casually sipping IPA’s might’ve helped, might’ve hurt. Slamming a Black Box with your friends during the Grammy’s when you have an 8 am meeting, horrible idea. I’m walking into work late, Starbucks in hand with pedialyte. When do I resign?
As we know, drinking on Sunday is no easy feat. You’re battling hangovers and grogginess, but you’re also playing with fire. And sometimes when you play with fire, you get burned. Sounded like a hell of a Sunday though. You’ll feel back to normal on Wednesday. Promise. .
Respond
Will
Will (Twitter / Instagram) is the host of The Sunday Scaries Podcast.
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“You guys need to figure it out, man. This isn’t how adults operate.” -Quote of the year.
I will be imagining that first story all week in my head. What. The. Heck.
That’s the type of insanity I’m all about.
I enjoy all the twists and turns in the breakup story. I mean it has a helicopter and a linebacker carrying sex handcuffs for Christ’s sake. It’s either a modern day classic or one hell of real housewives episode.
Imagine all the scenarios you could come up with if you were given – stripper cuffs, helicopter, linebacker, and prosthetic leg – and told to make up a story.
Elastic = ponytail holder. That black or brown little band you see on every single girl’s wrist that also holds ponytails up.
I think I’m justified in asking considering she CUT IT OFF HER HEAD.
Some girls (read: psychos) use legitimate rubber bands as hairties when they’re desperate
I’ve never even thought to CUT it out. Ponytails are cancelled until people start acting right. My God.
You have to be on a whole other level of drunk to think “SCISSORS” is the solution to letting your ponytail down.
The reason Sake is such a bad hangover is because it’s not liquor, it’s wine. Wine hangovers are the worst.
Neighbor to the good willed friends in golf club ex story here. I can assure you, all of the details in that story are so very sadly and equally entertainingly true. All parties involved are at least 30 years old so I’m not ashamed to admit I was happily passed out on my couch with a half eaten pizza only to be awoken by an aray of texts and phone calls from the aurthor of the story. At first I was uninterested assuming it was just another drunken night, as most of our other nights turn into. However, when I realized how serious she sounded and reread the texts mentioning there was a helicopter and pink handcuffs, knowing crazy ex homeboy personally, I had no choice other than to wipe off the pizza crumbs, pour a glass of champs, and pull up a seat to the aftermath of what unraveled that evening. De-escalation ninja did have a few small scuff marks on his face from taking ex homeboy down.
Drinking Black Box wine has consistently lead to my sloppiest nights.
Was really hoping for an Elin reference in that first story.
Golf club story is great. And I thought my ex was crazy for showing up at my place unannounced and crying
I mean that sounds pretty par for the course really
If that Atlantic City stripper story is true there is a 0% chance you don’t have an STD of some kind. Best of luck.
PS: I don’t believe any of the stories that are sent to you Will
I’ll be honest, 90% of the stories aren’t unbelievably outlandish. There are some stories every week that seem amplified though.