With the last weekend of July officially in the books, we’re staring directly into the light at the end of summer’s tunnel. You can almost smell the stale beer and tailgate food from here, but let’s not let that detract from the drunken disaster we all turn into mid-summer.
Proceed with caution, for these stories are not for the weak of heart.
Went to New Orleans for the weekend with 7 of my girlfriends. One friend tried to buy some party favors. She proceeds to try again and pays $150 for sugar. Saturday we brunch and drink until two friends start fighting and we get cut off at the bar. Later, half of the crew shows up 45 mins late for our very fancy dinner rez. I proceed to throwback too many dirty martinis and start a dinner ending argument. Another girl from the group somehow ended up alone and called an uber. She gets in the car only to receive a call from her driver asking her where she is. Random stranger still drove her to the hotel. Very hungover plane ride ends with me dry heaving in the airport garage next to my car.
As someone who was once hungover and picked up by an Uber driver and driven to JFK Airport free of charge because he felt bad for me, I identify with your friend. Not the one who bought sugar instead of drugs. The one who got the random ride.
Long-time reader that thoroughly enjoys this series. Never thought I would write in but this one is one for the books. My old college buddy invited me up to his cabin that he’s staying in for a summer contract. Big beer festival going on as well, all seemed promising. He did drop a disclaimer as I settled me and my girlfriend’s bags, “hey I hope you don’t scare easily but this place is haunted as hell”. Okay sure I thought. After a day’s worth of drinking craft beers far too hoppy for my taste I crashed with my GF in said cabin. I shit you not that I wake at 3 AM only to see a Victorian age looking decaying man staring at me in the face. I yelled at the top of my fucking lungs but my GF was passed out as shit, she had tequila throughout the day. So there I am petrified as hell and I just shut my eyes. I open em a bit and this ghost had the nerve to still be there. I just shut my eyes and laid there for hours. When the sun came up I got the hell out of there and proceeded to get a nice brunch and drinks.
Your friend 1,000% got you drunk, dressed up in his great grandfather’s old uniform that’s been at the cabin for decades, and woke you up in the middle of the night to scare you. It was a long con, and it panned out perfectly.
My roommate works for a pretty trendy company in Chicago. They tend to let loose a little on Friday afternoons and yesterday they were playing beer pong in the office with a few hot cups (fireball instead of beer). At about 9 pm I hadn’t heard from him so I gave him a call to see where he was at. He had no idea where he was other than that he was “in Lincoln park” so I had him send me his location. Turns out he had actually passed out shortly after getting on the train and had rode the L to the end of the line. We told him to stay put and we headed out to pick him up, roughly an hour north. When we got there, we gave him a call and told him to describe his surroundings only to hear him describe our own fucking street. He had taken a $100 Uber ride home while we were on the road to find him… He woke up this morning and realized he had sat in a pile of shit at some point and the verdict is out on whether it was a dog’s or a homeless man’s. So, he spent this morning trying to figure out if he had done something to jeopardize his job, apologizing to our college friend who drove down from Michigan to visit last night, and washing the homeless or dog shit out of his clothes and his bedding.
The most ridiculous part about this entire story isn’t your friend’s antics; it’s that you were such a good friend that you decided to go an hour there and back to help him get home safely. I wouldn’t do that for pretty much anyone in the world. Like if McConaughey and Miles Teller were having a party at their place an hour L ride away, I’d probably hit them with a, “Ah, totally forgot that I had promised some other friend’s I’d meet them out! Next time!”
1) found a girl passed out in the handicapped stall in the bar. Tried to shake her and she wouldn’t wake at first so I looked at her phone and she had a million texts from people in a gc asking where she was and one text saying “the last two weekends i found her in the handicapped stall of the OD, I bet she’s there. She’s a regular I guess
2) my friend almost got arrested for riding down the street on the the back of a jitney but the woman literally talked her way out of it
Passed-out-girl needs to realize that you need to give any bar a two week buffer after you do something embarrassing there. You can’t just return the following week and do the exact same thing before people start to whisper.
So I got invited to my coworkers bachelor party out in Vegas. We’re staying at the hardwood suite at the Palms which features a basketball court. None of us are athletic. Anyways, we decide to go see Chainsmokers on Friday night at Rio. It’s white girl central obviously, but my smart ass has to remind basically everyone at the club that there were a bunch of Asian girls behind our table by simply stating, ‘You guys see these Asians?’ That did not go over well. I ended up making out with a smokeshow of a blonde who was married and has two kids. I tried to get her back to the suite to ‘play some hoops’ but she was not having it at all. (Just a quick note to that girl out there, your husband is a lucky man, but I work from home and would be a great stay-at-home dad.) Next night we keep the good vibes going. Some party favors are being passed around. Things are looking good until I hit the slopes a little too hard. Somehow managed to fall asleep at our table (not really sure how given the PEDs) and get kicked out by security. Went down to the casinos floor and just started gambling. Not good according to my bank account. Currently on my death bed in this suite watching Bar Rescue (great show btw) just throwing darts on dating apps and sliding into DMs on Instagram. Haven’t checked the work email in about 48 hours and we’re going out again tonight. Help.
No story that begins with, “We decide to go see Chainsmokers on Friday night at Rio,” is going to end well. And stop calling cocaine “party favors,” everyone. It makes you sound way more sketchy than you already are. Oh, and stop doing cocaine.
Currently lounging by a pool in Vegas at the tail end of a fantastic weekend. Only problem is the flight out doesn’t leave till 9pm and my boss scheduled a meeting tomorrow from 8:30am-4pm in order to check in on my project’s progress and see how far my training has come along. Last time we had a meeting like this we took a single break all day.
Gonna go grab another beer while I still can now…
Never ever ever ever schedule the late flight home from anywhere – especially Vegas. Either be the first one out, or employ the Dave Ruff Method where you get the 3 a.m. flight and are in your own bed by 7 a.m. the next morning.
Decided to go to the bar with some of my buddies on Friday. Pregamed with 69 beers and a handle of Captain. Five out of seven of us threw up before getting there. Seven out of seven of us blacked out for at least part of the night. Made out with a rando but don’t even remember her face. At one point I felt the need to sit down on the floor only for the bouncer to think I needed a paramedic and call one. I didn’t need one, got up a minute later and kept going but caused a scene drunkenly trying to enter a closed Popeyes shortly after. I don’t remember the Uber ride home. Night def has me shook and feeling the scaries, but at least I’m not my friend who lost all his money buying a girl drinks.
Low key bummed you didn’t get that Popeyes, could’ve changed everything.
Also, people still drink Captain Morgan? I feel like no one drinks rum anymore unless they’re poolside or on a sailboat, and those who do definitely don’t drink Captain.
We had an alumni association event on Saturday night. One of my friends decided to bring his summer intern who is currently still in school at our alma mater. Long story short there was a lot of drinking involved and I woke up this morning with said intern in my bed. The good news is he was drinking at the bar so he’s at least 21 – I’m not a complete pedophile – but now I have to pray that none of the other alumni find out and that this doesn’t somehow fuck my friend over for getting his intern laid. Did I also mention I have a hickey the size of Texas on my neck? Who gives hickeys anymore?! Now frantically hunting for turtlenecks and scarves that I can pass off in the middle of summer without looking conspicuous. Silver lining I guess is that this was my first time with a younger man. #CougarStatus
Pic of the hickey attached for reference.
While I won’t include a photo of the hickey for anonymity’s sake, I will say that this hickey was quite large. And if he was old enough to drink, he was old enough to get a hickey from. Good on you.
I’ll preface this by saying this happened a few months ago. However, it still gives me the scaries to this day. I will explain…
My grandpa passed away (RIP), so my family and I travelled to where the funeral was taking place. I come from a family of heavy, social drinkers, and since we were taking a “celebration of life” stance on the whole situation, I knew the upcoming week would have some party vibes here and there, despite the circumstances (I hope no one takes offense to that). Fast forward to the fully stocked bar at the wake where I pour my first gin tonny, and I know I’m in trouble. Too much temptation and potential BL smoothie shotguns with family members to keep my drunkenness at bay. My cousin ended up asking me to smoke weed with him, which I obliged because I’m drunk, it’s a special occasion, and why the hell not?! (I now know this was not a good mindset). I haven’t smoked since college, and even though my family enjoys drinking, we are still pretty conservative, so drugs are never a topic of conversation in my house. Of the 60 seconds we are in my cousin’s car to prepare for our smoking expedition, who is the only person to walk by? My dad. The car wreaks. He can see exactly what we’re doing through the windows. My cousin is dying laughing, my dad has a ridiculous look on his face, and I am chugging my 6th, freshly poured gin tonny hoping it kills me. My cousin proceeds to ask my dad to join us, which he thankfully said no, and I am now wandering around talking to family members drunk and high as a kite. I officially blackout. I wake up the next day, feeling hungover of course, and my dad suggests I find my cousin to hook me up with a cure, to which I instantaneously felt like a guilty piece of garbage.
Do I feel terrible? Yes. Do I now get extreme scaries every time I see my dad, even 4 months later? Yes. Is it what grandpa would’ve wanted? I have to believe it is. To make matters worse, I moved back in with my parents today to save money, so I am about to see my dad every day. It has to only go up from here, right?
1. Everyone smokes, or has smoked, weed. It’s 2017 and your dad’s meh attitude towards the situation definitely says, “I smoked weed in college before your mom made me quit in the 80s.”
2. Hotboxing a car is begging to get caught.
3. I’m sorry about your grandpa.
And now for the doozy.
here was a bar crawl in Chicago which I made the mistake of signing up for months ago. I was planning on pacing myself and being responsible…obviously that didn’t happen.
The pregame went fine and we all went to the bars. The bartender at the first bar didn’t know she had to collect the tickets after each drink so every drink was 4 dollars off instead of having one drink that was 4 dollars off. Honestly she probably just didn’t give any fucks because she had to deal with so many drunk assholes but either way my friends and I all wanted to take advantage of this so we bought a ton of drinks here before going onto the second bar.
The second bar went well except one hiccup where a waitress dropped 8 promo cards on the ground which I picked up. Each one was for 8 free tacos and 10 dollars off pitchers of margaritas. I tried to use one of them and the waitress got security and asked me where I got them. I said someone sold them to me outside and they said we could get the tacos but it would take an hour but we couldn’t use the drink discount. Which was fine because we were all ready to go to the next bar.
Wow. I’m at the point where even typing this is making me anxious again.
So here is where things start going downhill. I wanted to meet up with some college friends so left the group I had been with. I went to the bar myself and there was a pool in the patio. It really didn’t look deep and I saw my friends on the other side of it…so I predictably tried to walk through it but it was wayyyyy deeper than I thought and I was completely submerged. Anddd so was my purse…with my phone. Which subsequently broke. But instead of going right to try to buy rice I spent an hour at the bar. Then I left on my own and ran (literally ran) to walgreens to buy rice. Since I didn’t have a form of communication I went into a bar to try to figure out the phone situation. I started talking to this guy and we were really hitting it off when I realized the box of rice was missing. The bar had thrown it out and I had to go through the trash to get it out. Then they yelled at me and told me to leave…at this point I was DRUNK so I was like kcya but then my ID was gone. I was convinced that it was in the bar so I tried searching and talked to the bouncer. The owner came and talked to me and told me I was just drunk (which I was) and dramatic (which I FOR SURE was) and threatened to call the cops. And I kid you not I literally told the bar owner “my father will be suing because you stole my id and my phone” So yeah I am a total drunk asshole. Anyway I was crying outside the bar crying when these two guys who went to the same high school as me walked up and asked if i was okay. They were so sweet and we weren’t even friends in high school so it was even nicer. Anyway we went back to their apartment and they were able to get into contact with my friends. While we were at their place my contact fell out so I dumped out my purse to find my glasses…..and my fucking ID was in there. Making me an even worse asshole. So fuck me right? Anyway we got some drunk Chinese food which sucked and I was super disappointed and I made my friend get me an uber home.
The fucking kicker though…I opened my email at 10 pm tonight and what does it say? It’s a fucking notice from Chase asking about my activity last night. Someone stole my card and spent 1700 dollars at a bar last night. So fuck me. At least my pictures were all updated on my laptop which is the only part of the phone I really cared about. PSA to everyone to upload pics you care about now.
Anyway typing this made me anxious and if anyone recognizes me from reading this please don’t judge me. It’s been a long few weeks. Definitely taking a serious break from drinking..even though I say that every time I drink this time it’s for real.
I can’t tell what’s worse, losing out on the $1,700 that someone spent on your card, or that you told someone your dad was going to sue them. Sounds like you were one margarita pitcher away from dropping a, “Do you know who my father is?” .