When you don’t drink all weekend, something comes over you on Sunday that says, “Have one. Just one.” All that pent up energy turns into a trip to the grocery store to buy some beer, wine, or liquor as a reward for being the most responsible human on the face of the earth on Friday and Saturday.
But one turns into two.
And then two turns into three.
And then three turns into an empty bottle sitting on your kitchen counter while you find yourself with a slight headache while preparing the saddest packed lunch of all-time. But it’s nothing a few coffees can’t fix, and at the end of the day, it’s not even close to what these readers got into over the weekend.
So Friday I took a half day to head down to Gillette Stadium for a Metallica concert. Concert was amazing but I drew the short straw and had to drive home. Thanks to the cluster fuck of trying to get out of the place and night road work on the drive home, I didn’t get back to my place until 4:45am. Between the adderall and redbull I took in order to get home alive, I decided sleeping was not necessary so I didn’t even go to bed. Caught the sunrise, went fishing, and then rolled into a food truck and music festival on Saturday afternoon. Beers, tons of food, and an after party BBQ at my buddies that followed. With all the food and alcohol consumed that day and running on fumes, I fell asleep on my buddies lawn before the Mrs. realized we needed to get me home. Woke up early this morning still exhausted, to go play one of the worst rounds of golf ever to. Currently trying to fight the scaries by cleaning my grill. These ribs I plan to have for dinner better bring me back to life because I am dead.
You went to a Metallica concert only to take an Adderall and drink a Red Bull after said Metallica concert? How did your heart not beat straight out of your chest?
Got super drunk and posted things online I shouldn’t have. Woke up next day with hospital tag on my wrist to find out that I was puking blood, and was taken to hospital where I had a .219 bac. After 5 Iv bags I was told that I couldn’t leave the hospital until I peed, and if I didn’t they were going to stick a catheter in me. I apparently just pulled it out and started peeing on the nurse without getting any on me. Can’t wait to see this hospital bill.
“Got super drunk and posted things online that I shouldn’t have” is going to be what textbooks say about our generation in the 2100s. That being said, I hope you have good insurance because the only thing that can get you over the fact that you pissed all over a sober nurse is the fact that your bill may be covered. But probably not.
This weekend I went back to my hometown for my best friend from high school’s wedding. I was the only bridesmaid that wasn’t in a relationship or married. You can probably see where this one’s headed so let me breakdown my shame further for you. After the ceremony/speeches were over, the bridal party decided the best move was to pass around two bottles of whiskey (to compliment the wine and champagne that was being consumed all day prior to the festivities) and finish them within minutes. Once the whiskey hit the brain I snuck off into the suite where the bridal party was keeping their belongings with a groomsmen and right when things were getting interesting who walks into the room? My mom. So that’s a real special memory we’ll be able to look back on now.
Oh and after the reception a few of us stumbled over to the suite of said groomsmen to drink more and right when I was about to try to shoo everyone out and pick up where we left off, I ran into a sliding glass door and everyone (including him) saw. Needless to say I went home solo.
Currently I’m sitting at the airport waiting for my flight back to Colorado chugging water and wearing sunglasses inside. Not just to hide my shame and bloodshot eyes, but also to try to hide my possibly now broken nose. Days like today I’m feeling very #blessed that I have a script for xanax because it might take a few to battle scaries at this level.
There’s never been a light at the end of the tunnel quite like when you revealed your Xanax prescription. But either way, that wedding sounds par for the course and I’m happy it went the way it did. Sure, mostly small children and dogs are the ones running through glass doors, but you pretty much turn into a small child when you’re drinking whiskey at that pace anyway.
Saturday night was my college best friend’s birthday and one of my high school friends was in town from the opposite coast. Seemed like the perfect time to introduce my boyfriend to just about all my friends at once, since both my high school and college crew would be at the same bar. Got to the bar about an hour and a half after everyone else, was greeted with a tequila shot. Boyfriend did a great job mingling while I made my rounds– and bought a few too many rounds. By the end of the night people were just handing me shots that I took without questioning. At one point I managed to get a bachelorette to let me try on her engagement ring, which made me look super sane and well adjusted. Things are pretty blurry, but I do know I fell out of a booth and face planted and next thing I know I’m on the curb throwing up in a flower bed. Worst part of it all is that I 1. Missed meeting Joel Embiid at the bar because I was too busy on my fourth Fireball shot of the night, and 2. Posted FOURTEEN things to my Snapchat story. Somehow still made it home with my phone, wallet, and boyfriend… plus my strapless bra which I took off and shoved in my purse halfway through the night. Threw up for three hours this morning before a Shake Shack chicken shack literally saved my life. Never drinking again. I swear.
I take it back – “Never drinking again, I swear,” is going to be what’s plastered on textbooks in the 2100s, with a heading of “Got super drunk and posted things online that I shouldn’t have” as the first chapter. Big news that people are still doing Fireball shots, though. I’ve been avoiding them since 2015, just before when I decided I was retiring from the shot game altogether.
Laying on my couch with an over drawn balance in my bank account and a text message from the girl I’m seeing saying we should just be friends and I still have packed for a 6:00am flight to Pittsburgh for work needless to say I’m shook.
Step 1. Download Bumble.
Step 2. Go to Pittsburgh.
Step 3. Use Bumble in Pittsburgh.
Submitting on behalf of my buddy “Mark” again, since for some inexplicable reason he hasn’t yet come around to the idea of broadcasting these stories to the world himself. Started out the weekend by losing a bet and now has to wear a MAGA hat at all times the next four weekends. Followed it up Friday night by blacking out at a friend’s birthday party after some girl drama and pissing in his suitcase when he got home. Pissed himself again Saturday night after what I presume was more drinking. Woke up Sunday morning to his parents at his door in a hurry to make their tee time. Bogeyed the first 5 holes.
XOXO, Gossip Girl
P.S. Semi related but three other buddies in the friend group went to a festival out of town this weekend. Got kicked out of their Airbnb the second day thanks to someone pissing in the hallway. Different person pissed themselves in the motel room they got that night. Big weekend in waterworks for the squad.
I’m not sure what’s more embarrassing – how often your friends are pissing themselves or the fact that “Mark” has to wear a “Make America Great Again” hat at all times. Honestly, I think I’d rather piss myself in public and let it dry out over the next hour or so.
I got way too into the mint juleps at a family wedding this weekend and apparently cut quite a rug on the dance floor. We’re talking electric slide, sprinkler, cotton eye joe, snorkler. I might add that most of them were performed during frank Sinatra songs. Furthermore, my dad proceeded to get wasted and got into an Alabama / Clemson argument with the uber driver on the ride back to the hotel. He was the Alabama fan. Meanwhile my mother took her shoes off halfway through because “no one needs heels”. I have an 8am flight back tomorrow. Send prayers.
Okay, that’s an awesome weekend. Props to whoever threw that wedding and let the Juleps slide. It’s hard enough to get a wedding bartender to make a drink with more than three ingredients, let alone something where they have to muddle mint.
While my weekend was not filled with my stereotypical drunken antics, I did babysit an 8-month-old all weekend. There is nothing like having a screaming, shitting, pooping, tiny human completely dependent on you to make you reevaluate your life and choices that could possibly result in you having your own tiny human. He also happens to be the child of my boss so if I anything happened I would have been out of a babysitting gig and a job I actually like.
Psychotic move babysitting your superior’s child. But that child sounds more with it than “Mark” and co., so you’ve got that going for you.
Met up with some old college buddies in Atlanta. The first two nights were calm but we started to take on old form Saturday night. Ended up at a bar in Buckhead where napkins cake the floor and people toss them around like confetti. Ended up hurling armfuls of napkins at each other and ended up getting the boot by the bouncer.
Ordered $75 worth of dominos for the whole group and everyone passed out before it finally arrived around 4:15am. Ate way too much and threw it back up at the airport a few hours later.
Checked by bank account and realized 50% of my net worth will be gone at the end of the week when I close on my house.
The Sunday Scaries have poured over into Monday.
Truly amazing that you’re mature enough to buy a house yet still immature enough to get kicked out of a bar for having a napkin fight.
Beautiful stuff all around, everyone. As always, submit your worst weekends to firstname.lastname@example.org. They’ll be anonymous, and your peer will thank you. .