Hey, Liver! It's almost Christmas. Buckle up.

It's time for a little holiday cheer, I think. I am using up the last bit of my vacation starting right now and I don't have to go back to the office until Wednesday of next week and that's just fine by me. They are gutting the building and most of the construction is on my floor, so it's almost unbearable anyway. Not to mention that the place is so full of frickin' construction workers that you can't hear yourself think in the cafeteria since all those guys seem to be permanently set on 11. Just today, for instance, I heard a conversation about vagina from about 60 feet away, and that doesn't happen every day.


Anyway, to kick off this little vacation, I'm planning on having a nice martini tonight. I love martinis -- even the ones the purists don't consider martinis. I love traditional gin martinis, Americanized vodka martinis, dirty martinis of both types (blue cheese stuffed olives, please) appletinis (when I'm wearing my tight purple t-shirt) and even espresso chocolate martinis.

Basically, if you call it a martini, load up one of those ridiculously unstable glasses with some kind of kickass alcohol, chances are very good that I'll drink it and like it. Of course, the problem with martinis is that they get right on top of you. They will ride you face-first into the dirt before you know what happened, especially if you go light on the food and weigh 150lbs soaking wet like I do. I've found it's generally a good idea to have one or two and then quit for the evening and switch to something else. I can't even imagine a "three martini lunch" -- I would never make it back to my car, let alone my desk.

So in the spirit of responsible drinking, I think I'm going to have a little contest. The prize is a brand-new set of 4 of these guys:

That looks pretty damn festive, am I right? This prize was donated by CSN Stores, a company that sells all sorts of glassware and cookware, both bar-related and not. All I had to do was mention them in a post for some glasses, and I thought they'd make a neat giveaway. So there ya go. I'm a man-whore for you guys. Oh, and martinis. I'm also a man-whore for martinis.

But in all seriousness, I get offers like this all the time, and if the company looks sketchy or the product ridiculous, (assbrella, I'm talking to you) I'll pass. In this case, I spent about 30 minutes on their site looking for a good holiday giveaway, and they have a ton of bar-related stuff. If you are looking for a wine rack, or any other wine-related stuff, it's a great place if you happen to be in the market. We've actually owned this one for years, and it's perfect for a random kitchen corner where nothing else would fit.

So what do you have to do to win these? It's easy. In the comments, you have to tell me the stupidest/funniest thing you ever did while drunk. Or tell me why you quit drinking, since those two things seem to go hand in hand most of the time. The contest will end Friday at 5pm, and the post that makes me laugh the hardest will be deemed the winner. Extra points if you were shaken or stirred.

So go to it. You know you want to. Come on, confess to Johnny. Tell me about your walk of shame, or the time you were arrested wearing nothing but a tiara, I won't judge you. I may or may not have a picture of myself sliding down a steep set of stairs on my stomach, is all I'm saying. I was bruised for a week after that one.


  1. Ok Johnny - there are many stories I can tell you - and probably many more that I don't remember (and that is probably fortunate).

    For my 22nd birthyda we went to Palm Springs . . . danced and drank WAY TOO much - I leaned too far back on the bar stool during a smooth sexy dance and WHAM on the floor - then on the way back to the hotel to skinny dip, we decided that we need to dance naked in this fountain . . . in town . . for the life of me - I have no idea where that was! Then after our skinny dipping excursion, I decided I was tired and needed to head to bed . . . apparently, I only thought I needed a shirt because on the way back to the room . . . some passerby mentioned that I had left my pants somewhere . . . when I woke up in the morning . . . well, I swore to never drink again. BUt then the next Friday night came!

  2. Let my friend, (who was also trashed), drive my car through a convenience store drive-through (a second or third time) to flirt with the guys who worked there. There was a telephone pole in the middle of the parking lot -- seriously, right in the middle, nothing around it -- and she ran head-on into it. She got a goose egg, I broke the windshield. We both got lucky b/c the cops weren't called.

  3. sleeptalker, ow, damn. 22 year old naked fountain dancing? Why do I never get to witness things like this?

  4. I almost got in a fight with a nightclub manager while trying to defend Will Sexton's honor. Swear to God. It was in the town where I went to college, and I was in a bit of a Sexton groupie phase at the time, and he was playing local a lot (this was not long after Charlie hit it big) so I was kind of following him around. Will and his guys were arguing with the manager of the venue over pay or something, and after a couple of pitchers of beer I apparently decided I could help out with that somehow. Thank God my friend wasn't as drunk as I was and was able to pull me the hell out of there before it got too weird.

    Er, wait. There was another time that might be better. My friend (same one as above) and I got wasted at a club and ended up going back to a sleazy motel with the roadies from a touring band who were playing there the following night. My friend went in one room with one of the guys so they could get busy, and I somehow ended up in a room with two other guys and a couple of hookers, watching Sam Kinison on HBO (he was still alive then) while one of the roadies kept showing me his handgun (not a euphemism). ALSO a true story, I swear.

    I'm revealing my age with these stories, aren't I?

  5. having a gent following me, having relations, and then not remembering a damn thing about it next day!

  6. Anonymous7:41 PM

    Went out with a friend, ran into a guy I had a huge crush on, drank WAY too many shots of Jose... Ended up with a group of people in my car, but I was sent to the back seat on the cute guy's lap :)... things were working out real well until I puked on him, then puked out the door... puked in the kitchen sink of the first friend's house. I guess the guy really did like me cause we ended up together for a couple years after that! 10 years later, I still hear about that night from him.

  7. Got drunk on Coors light and white tequila, sat around an xbox with 2 friends and my little brother, who was drunk as well, and illegally so. We played a Cabella's hunting game for 4 hours, just trying to shoot the leopard from all the way across the map with a bow and arrow. Every time we let the arrow go, we'd all say, "Dude. Dude. Dude dude dude dude dude dude dude DUDE DUDE DUDE AWWWWWWW..."

    4 hours.

    The night ended with me trying to fight a guy who came in and said some stupid shit, and my wife told me she hated me because we gave a dog away.

    My neighbor heard every word of it, and came over the next day and told us about how much fun it was to listen to it.

  8. 1) Went out with some friends
    2) Took shoes and socks off then passed out on a friend's sofa
    3) Woke up not knowing where I was and jumped in my car... sans shoes and socks
    4) Went to get food at local mart but the CheckCard is missing
    5) Left food waiting and go to bar to look for card... still sans shoes
    6) Go in and get told to "Get the hell out!" by the bouncers
    7) Go home and get $ and go to another mart for food
    8) Wake up the next day with a message from my friend asking me what the hell happened and why are my shoes over there, he also told me he thought people had broken in to his place and were having an argument as the menu screen for the DVD of Big Lebowski had been playing, very loud at that.

    Point being, you should always keep an extra pair of shoes in the car and ALWAYS check your shirt pocket for the CheckCard you stupidly put there.

  9. Does it count if I tell you the stupidest thing my HUSBAND ever did? (Background: My hub was going to be the best man in a wedding that was 8 months away. He came into town to visit the groom and the groom set us up on a blind date. So I met my (future) hub, and the next day he left the country. Over the next 6 months I saw him two other times...and then we got married -- basically on our fourth date. But wait that's not the story, because we were SOBER then.)

    So fast forward 8 months, to the wedding my husband was best man in. By this time my hub and I had already gotten married, and none of my friends knew what to think of this guy. He did a fine job as best man, but at the reception he got PLASTERED. I didn't even know it (I'd never seen him drunk before) until a group of us were going up the elevator to continue partying in a friend's hotel room. My husband picked up one of those giant ashtrays that sits on the floor and carried it into the elevator while speaking in a Russian accent. This was my first clue. After we got to the room with my friends he yacked all over EVERYTHING. I'm MORTIFIED, so I throw him in the shower to clean up and sober up. My poor friends have to SLEEP in that hotel room so I feel like I should clean it up, so while my hub is in the shower drunk and my friends are partying I am scrubbing the walls. Except that I didn't want to ruin my fancy dress so I'm scrubbing the walls in my thong underwear while they cheered and played some sort of drinking game that had to do with my jiggling ass. My hub then passed out and I couldn't get him back to our own room, so we spent the night on the fold-out sofa in our friend's room, and the next morning I had to go out to breakfast in a formal cocktail dress. Everyone thought I picked a real winner for a spouse.

  10. In my early 20s, I was at an outdoor concert series that you could watch from a houseboat docked on the Tennessee River. Between about 15-20 of us, we'd drank one bottle shy of an entire CASE of Ketel One over the course of the evening. We were FUBARed to say the least. After the concert was over, we started heading back to the marina in the ridiculously fast houseboat when I decided to come up out of the lower level and on to the main deck. I had on a pair of VERY tight jeans and those really clunky 90's heeled loafers. The step to get on the deck was extremely steep and in my tight- clothed, heavy shoe-ed stupor, I couldn't get up the step on my own, so a guy behind me pushed me on the ass to help me up. Well, he pushed a little hard because next thing I knew, I had stumbled pretty fast onto the deck and was headed directly for the entry gate towards the water - a gate which some moron had left open when we left the dock. The boat was hauling ass, and I found my self dangling over the edge one hand barely holding a rail, drunk as Cooter Brown, trying to get my balance, about to take a digger into the nasty horrible gross waters of the mighty Tennessee (The Department of Wildlife recommends you eat no more than two fish per year from the river) at about 35 miles per hour. I'm actually kind of glad I was too drunk to have my life flash before my eyes, otherwise it would have really sucked. Luckily, the owner of the boat managed to grab me by the belt loop while still steering and accelerating and hold me up long enough for another guy to pull me back up straight and on the deck. I would've sunk straight to the bottom in those shoes.

    Miraculously, I managed to hold on to my drink and didn't spill a drop during the entire fiasco. That was the last time I'll ever drink like that on a houseboat.

    If that doesn't make you laugh, then I'll tell you about the time about 5 years before that, due to the same concert series, that I passed out on top of my brother, then had to explain it to my parents.

  11. damn, I thought I had some stories, but I bow to the glory!

  12. Damn. I thought I hd some stories, but.....*whew*

  13. Anonymous9:00 PM

    About 5 or 6 years ago (that's how drunk I was, plus or minus one year is as close as I can get to the date), I was a bridesmaid in one of my better friends from high school's wedding. Her soon-to-be husband had an usher whom he had played football with in college. I had happened to be around him a few times before, but hated him and his blooming arrogance. That overruled his extreme hotness. Back to the wedding. Got s**thoused in the country club's 19th hole (a.k.a. the bar). I was a cute bridesmaid, so of course they were buying me drinks and I love to shoot the whiskey, so that added to my cuteness. I think. Anyhow, ended up pulling up my dress, sans panties, in front of the entire reception which included the bride's and groom's parents and family, most of whom I had known for years. And who knew/know my parents. Someone had the foresight to rent a big van to shuttle the drunk idiots home, of which we were two of the most drunk and most idiotic. The hot ex-college roommate football player and I ended up having hot, skirt over your head, sex in the backseat of the van. While 10 other people tried to block out the sounds and sights (and smells?) of our drunken love fest. My sister happened to be with us and was so pissed that she got out at a McDonald's in the middle of nowhere and called my parents to come and pick her up from out of town. That cinched my parents never finding out. I can't believe people still talk to me after that...usually that's the conversation starter with folks from HS or the wedding who I haven't seen in years. We had to write letters of apology to all the parents...it was embarrassing.

  14. I had gone to a divorce party and imbibed far too much rum and coke. Since I only lived a few blocks away, I decided to walk home. Heh. I was apparently more trashed than I thought. After stumbling down countless blocks, I finally leaned up against the nearest tree to try and read the street sign. I squinted and squinted but the damn thing was written in Martian or something. Well, I could still walk (kinda) and stumbled gaily forward in the general direction of home.

    Seems the sidewalk wasn't quite level and I face-planted right onto the cement. As I picked myself up, I noticed I was right in front of my house. Sweet! I staggered up the endless steps to the front door and leaned on the doorbell. My Honey opened the door and discovered I was slumped against the screen door, making it impossible to open and let me in. After several minutes I finally figured out I had to stand up to get in the house. I made an immediate trip to the Porcelain God and worshiped there for awhile.

    The next morning my neighbor told us how a different neighbor had called the cops to report a drunk wandering around the neighborhood peeking in windows and that the cops had searched every yard in our block looking for me. Oops.

  15. The stupidest thing I ever did while drunk, falling down drunk in the bathroom of my husband's practice space - was decide it was time to quit drinking. God, I miss martinis.

  16. Stupidest Thing? The STUPIDEST thing? YEARS ago, sitting on my couch, I called my soon to be ex-husband to talk about some important things. Of course I was three sheets to the wind at the time - so you can imagine how important these things were. I think the topic of discussion was was color envelope our divorce papers were going to be delivered in. We discussed our important topic for a while and hung up. After hanging up I realized that I didn't get the answered that I wanted - grabbed my car keys and drove to his apartment, only to realize that I had called him at work. In addition - while standing outside his apartment door - also to realize that I was wearing my very see through pajamas. I'm much better now...And the envelope was white in case you were wondering.

  17. hey, too long to post here, but if you'd like to have a chuckle give this one a read.


  18. This comment has been removed by the author.

  19. wasn't me. had this boyfriend who both talked in his sleep and sleptwalked. it was always worse after one of his 8-hour happy hours. only, at first when he would get up, i didn't know he was actually asleep. i mean, his eyes were open and you could communicate with him. sort of.
    one night, he started talking in the middle of the night and it woke me up. he kept saying he needed to know the "voom". the what? "the voom". teehee. wait, you want that WHAT? "the VOOM!" LOL. "the VOOM! the voom! the volume of the room!" BWAHAHAHAH what do you want that for? "the dirt". er, uhm oookay.

    other times the nutball sleptwalk to the bathroom. in the hallway. in the sink. once he even stood up in the middle of the bed and assumed the stance. i admit to being more concerned about him peeing in the bed than about him hitting his head on the ceiling fan. i reckoned if the ceiling fan whacked him on the head he'd go back to sleep without peeing in the bed.

    what the hell was i thinking??

  20. Alright JV I’m breaking into my college days for this story and I can say the night was something to remember (or forget depending on how you look at it).

    So come with me on this tale that only a doctor could tell.

    It all began the night preceding Halloween. It was a planned night of mischief and mayhem, and we had a long list of things to do throughout the course of the evening. The first on our list was Mojitos. I’m a sucker for rum, so we went to the liquor store and loaded up on almost four gallons of the goods. We had already confirmed around thirty people for the party, and at the store we gathered another handful. We had planned on a festive costume party considering the holiday, so we also picked up some seasonal microbrews hinting at fall time flavours and great tastes.

    The night began without a hitch, we had nearly 20 Tom Collin’s glasses lined on the counter looking amazing, down to the hanging mint garnish and powder sugar rims. I had been on the look-out for a costume all summer and had finally settled on Cat in the Hat. It wasn’t too cliché, yet easily identifiable and it turned out to be a hit. Sadly though, my tail got more action than I did for most of the night. So about midway through the party we got the brilliant idea to play Strip Beer Pong in which you call your shots, and upon successfully making it, you picked which person lost an article of clothing. It was couples so it was all a good time, until my friend suggested switching out one beer cup for a rum cup…a full rum cup.

    Without hesitating I agreed with a bit too much excitement because I knew of another stipulation we should add, if you called the rum cup on a bounce you could make one player remove all their clothing. Suffice to say I was that member in the first game. I ended up with a tail covering my frontside “Tail” and to my surprise, a girl pulling on said tail to the bedroom. Against my better judgment I told her to hold on, as per house rules, I had to finish the cup that was made-- the ten-shot full rum cup. I never made it to the bedroom, or at least my memory didn’t.

    The next thing I know I wake with my head pounding and I was shivering my ass off. As my vision corrected itself and my senses returned I realized I was very wet on one side of my body. The sun was shining into my eyes and I then discovered I was outside. A sat up, and noticed I wasn’t wearing any clothes and I was lying in a ditch. There was however, another body next to me; the girl from the beer pong match. She was also naked, aside from the tail I had been wearing the night before. She had that on…And I had my hat on, and then a very loud siren echoed out behind us.

    I turned to see two neatly dressed police officers stepping from their car. So I grabbed the first thing I could find to cover “myself” which happened to be my rather tall striped hat. As I stood to greet the officers they began to laugh very loudly and came over to make sure we were alright. Luckily they were in good enough spirits to give us a ride back the few blocks to my friends place, but it was a bit awkward for me, riding in the back seat with nothing but my hat to cover my indecency. They let us off but not before commenting on my costume. My friends also found it quite hysterical, and now every year at Halloween I get a few text messages asking me to un-retire the famed Cat in the Hat costume.

  21. Doing a Christmas links post for Thursday...I'll give yah a nice plug for this contest. :)

  22. sfchick4:02 AM

    I have so many stories...how about a recap of the top 3?

    First one, I was in college drinking some garbage booze with flecks of gold in it. I was feeling pretty good, so I thought I would enter a "best tits of (insert name of college) contest. Sounded like a good idea at the time so, I did it and won! My reward? The bartender laid me across the bar and. Some random guys did shots off my stomach and out of my belly button while the bartender poured Yaeger down my throat.

    I was doing ok, but then made it to the door, dropped to all fours and puked my guts out. As I was puking a guy who did a shot off me stuffed a number in my back pocket of my jeans and asked me to "dinner" the next night...he didn't care I was dying..Dating while puking!

    Second story, was I was so drunk one night when I was 21 years old that I made a date with a guy who I met in a bar. When the guy came to picke me up at my house the next day, my dad walks in my room and says "your dates at the door". I said, "ok thanks". Then he pops back in and says, "you do know your date doesn't have any hands right"?

    I had NO IDEA my date didn't have any hands. It was a schock at first because how would we eat dinner? At the end it didn't matter. We just didn't go out for Chinese that nighr.

    Third was, few years ago when I moved to Chicago for a while, I was partying pretty hard with my friend. We got our pizza at 3 am and I got into a "cab". I yelled at the driver "State and Grand" the street I lived on.

    Then I said to the drivers "why is there a cage wall in your cab?" Then I asked, "why are there two cab drivers wearing hats?". Turns out, I crawled into the back of a cop car in front of hundreds of people. They were like "ma'mam you're in a police car. You're IN A POLICE CAR!!". I sarted telling them to take me home and I couldn't get out of the back seat.

    They finally started laughing and let me out. They had to help me get out because I was locked in. My friends were laughing so hard that they were on the sidewalk laying down pissing themselves.

    That was almost as fun as getting ripped and falling asleep while in the Smith and Wolensky bathroom stall.

    I'm a fun drunk!!...

  23. Nicole6:29 AM

    Oh my!So many stories come to mind.
    Me-skinny white chick, had one too many at a dance bar one night.
    Told extremely large black chick in a tube top that she might want to think about investing in a bra for her back titties.
    I cannot control my mouth when I drink. So I don't drink anymore.
    I am lucky she was toasted too or I very well could have gotten my ass kicked that night. She just laughed at me.

  24. Mishkarah7:53 AM

    Hi, I don't know if this counts or not, cause this really isn't the stupidest thing I did, it is the stupidest thing my husband did...

    He had just turned 18 a couple of weeks earlier and his parents decided that they wanted a night alone, so they bribed him with cash and sent him to go find a friend to stay with for the night. He being of teenaged mind and sound body decided to pick up some beer and visit his best friend. The two of them got nicely sloshed, smoked some funny cigarettes and decided to go out on the town.

    The town in question though was very small and pretty soon the two were bored and wanting something bigger and better to occupy their drunken minds, so they decided to "borrow" a vehicle out of the local car lot and drive into the "big city". If that weren't bad enough, between the two of them only one had a licence and he (my future husband) decided not to use it, but instead he let his friend drive.

    His friend assured him that he knew how to drive and they set off. Approaching the city his friend passed by a police car which wouldn't have been bad except that when he tried to signal to exit the highway, he turned on the wipers instead of the signal and the police officer attempted to pull them over for not signalling.

    Knowing that they were inebriated, in a stolen car and the driver did not have a licence, they decided that running was a good idea.

    They ended up driving off the road, smashing the car and getting arrested that night, and that one stupid act has haunted him for twenty years. He has been a good boy ever since, but his whole future was changed that night.

    I myself have done nothing more than piss off a friend by having a popcorn fight and making a big mess, obsessing over finding the owner of a car who'd left their headlights on in a street full of restaurants and bars at 11:30pm, and melting 40 candles into one giant mass of wax that I insisted was going to net me millions at the national gallery of art.

  25. I once drank all day in a GAA club (Gaelic Athletic Association) on the Falls Rd in Belfast,(not Maine) back when things were, well, a bit less stable over there (okay, a LOT less stable) than they are now. I stumbled out of the club and up the Springfield Road to a semi-legal after hours club yelling drunken insults at a patrol of British soldiers. With machine guns. In my no-doubt unmistakable American accent.

    Yeah, its not funny, but it was STUPID...
    I also vaguely remember standing in the middle of that after hours club with my arm around a DJ leading a roomful of people in singing 'American Pie'. Did you know that if you drink enough you know EVERY WORD of that song?

  26. I don't know what I did while drunk.

    I met a guy at a bar while completely looped. My friends allowed this complete and total stranger to take me home. I don't remember a THING about the ride.

    The next night he called to see if I wanted to go to the movies. I agreed and he came to my place of employment to pick me up. I worked at the mall where the theater was, so he had to hang out until closing time.

    All I can say is this guy looked like a mix between an Oompa Loopma and Gollum. I don't know WHAT I was thinking when I met him... the five Kamikazee shooters I had had that night obviously obscured my vision.

    Being the nice gal I am, we went to the movies. Once over, he asked if he could spend "the rest of the night with me."

    I told him NO, I had a hangover and I was going home.

    He says, "OK. Then what about half the night."

    Again, "No. I am hung over and want to go home."

    He proceeds to pull a HOTEL KEY from his pocket, pout, and say "But I got THIS for us!"

    I told him he was either going to have to pick up a hooker or go at it alone, because I had NO intention of going to a hotel with him.

    I jumped in my car and thought to myself all the way home "What the hell did I DO last night???!"

    And I have never touched another Kamikazee.

  27. Anonymous8:50 AM

    Eloped with me exhusband

  28. Where to start.....well, It was "dollar you call it" and the tequila sunrise hold the sunrise was calling my name. About 7 or 8 drinks later I was being thrown out of the bar. The bouncers threw me through the doors, one door broke, they called the cops saying I broke their door (which reminded me of Beverly Hills Cop when Eddie Murphy was thrown through a window and they were going to arrest him for disturbig the peace and he proceeds to ask if being thrown out of a moving car would be jaywalking...funny shit). So, while I was talking to the cops they asked me what I wanted to do....I could either go with them or take a cab home. I asked the cops "where are you going?"...they replied...downtown, I said just a second and walked down to the cabbie and asked him where he was going. He replied, "where do you wanna go?"....I then proceeded to to walk back to the cops and say, I think i'll go with the cabbie. The cops were so amazed that I even went to the effort of asking they let me go. There is a god!

  29. I... I've got nothing. I'm lame.

  30. Thankfully, it's been 20 years since this incident. I'm older, wiser and *ahem* hopefully more modest.

    I was raised by very strict parents in that I had a 10 pm curfew and wasn't allowed to do anything that my friends were doing.

    Fast forward to college, 9 hours away from home and being hell bent on making up for lost time.

    I joined a Sorority. At the spring dance, I got pretty wasted on whatever was available. Ended up dancing on tables and what not. Decided a frat bro looked pretty fine and asked him to escort me upstairs (party was in a hotel) for some one-on-one time. On the way up, in my drunkenness, I noted we were in a glass elevator.

    For whatever dumb ass reason, I decided that screwing his brains out, in the glass elevator, was a fab idea. Of course, we were on the 9th floor when I made my move.

    So, picture a very drunk (but cute!) girl with formal attire hitched up, bum up on the railing, getting nailed by a frat boy while decending to the lobby in a glass elevator.

    We got kicked out of the hotel. I can't imagine why.

  31. But there's so many!

    Jumped a fence (in a skirt) and fell, breaking my ankle and requiring surgery and a cast during the holiday season.

    While trying to help my friend dock his boat, I tried to jump the seemingly 2 foot gap (it was more like 9 feet) to land on the dock, but ended up in the swampy water, covered in algae. I might mention it was the middle of winter and I was wearing layers of sweaters and coats, and had my phone in my pocket. I had to drive home in my underwear.

    Started a competitive dance off with a big black man at the dance club. He won by a landslide.

    I think that's enough shame and embarrasement for one entry, don't you?

  32. Anonymous10:50 AM

    This contest unfairly discriminates against the teetotaler. You man-whore.

  33. New Years 2007. Senior year of college. I partied all day with some friends, and then had to go to a party down the street. A friend and I went to the corner store and bought a case of beer. We bought a bum 3 forties (we offered to buy him whatever and he wanted the forty) and told him to have a happy New Year. King Cobra was his forty of choice. We then attended the aforementioned party. At some point we ended up in a cab going downtown to go to a martini bar where my friend's girlfriend worked. She had saved all her comps and we each had 2 or 3 martinis. None of them were needed. Well after midnight I got in a car with some random people. I think there was champagne involved. I booted all over the back seat of said car. I don't remember much after that, but I woke up at 4 p.m. in a bathtub that was full of half melted jello wearing only my boxers and a sock. I lost my phone, my wallet, and most of my clothes but at some point had the great idea to put my keys in the one sock I had on. There was nobody home in that house, so I had to walk all sticky and half-dressed to a payphone and then call my friend collect. I had to ask a customer where I was so my friend could pick me up. I still have no idea whose house it was. Overall it was a fairly rowdy evening.

  34. I'm thinking.

    Too many to choose from.

    I might be back.

  35. I feel like rather than writing out a whole thing here in the comments, I can just say...uh, read my blog. Particularly this, this, and this. I'm a hot mess.

    (That first one is the frightening video I made while high on drugs after surgery, but I'm pretty sure it counts as humiliating.)

  36. Anonymous12:45 PM

    Back in college, I came back from a party to the dorm, drunk. Went next door to see what the guys were doing; they were watching Heartbreak Ridge with the lights off. No, don't go there.

    So, I found a seat under a bunk loft on a piece of carpet and settled in to watch. About the time the Marines got ready to invade Grenada, I said I was hungry and asked for some munchies. One of the guys handed me a half empty bag of Cheez Puffs, which I proceeded to finish, to the point of tipping the bag back to get the last bits as the credits rolled. They kicked me out and went to bed, and I stumbled next door to my own bed.

    The next morning, there was a knock on the door. One of the guys from next door said "Come see what you did." I followed him next door and saw an orange arc on the carpet, where apparently I had wiped my hand in the dark after each handful of Cheez Puffs. It looked like a monochrome rainbow.

    They didn't ask me over after parties much after that, so my roomie and I used to wait until they were asleep and blow smoke from our cigarettes under their door with straws. That's another story, though.

    St Paul
    td at minneapolish3 dot com

  37. I don't think I can ever compare but, on the last night I got drunk, I told the guy I had a huge crush on that he was like Batman. I have a thing for Batman, he's the most awesome superhero ever and crush is a comic book geek. So it's a great compliment, right?

    That depends. I follow up with "Adam West Batman." He, rightfully so, says "I'm not sure how to take that." My response is "Adam West is hot!" Except, of course, it sounds more like "Addddm Wshet is hottttt!" I believe I also kissed him and then said, for the rest of the evening "Oh my God, I kisheded James."

    I don't drink anymore because anytime my brain is under the influence of anything, I tend to tell the nearest attractive man what I would like to do to him. Occasionally I have acted on that.

  38. Many years ago my friends and I decided it was a good idea to play quarters with whiskey. This went on for several hours and at some point I decided I was done. I went to the couch and proceeded to pass out.

    My friends tried to wake me, not because they were concerned about my well being but because I didn't drink my shot! They tried sitting me up and pouring the shot in my mouth, they tried walking me around the room to wake me up, they even poured water on me and nothing...I was out. Someone got the bright idea to strip me down to my bra and panties and write all over me with marker while I was out.

    I'm not sure how long I was out but in my drunken state I heard a sound, it was a very strange and concerning sound, it was kind of like vroomchugachuga, vroomchugachuga then there was a whiff of that gas and oil mixture you get when starting a chainsaw. I jumped to my feet, screamed like the girl that I am and ran out of the house into the front yard, in the snow, in my bra and panties and still screaming!!

    All I could envision in my drunken state was The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and obviously some survival instinct kicked in and I bolted. It turns out that my friend had just purchased a gas powered weed whacker and for whatever reason they were trying to get it started in the house.

    So there I was in the snow, in my underwear, covered in marker, screaming my head off all while my friends stood at the doorway and laughed hysterically until the cold sobered me up enough for me to realize I wasn't in any danger. I've NEVER lived that down!!

  39. I asked a bartender once to put my margarita in a beer mug because the margarita glass was too unsteady. She did it!

  40. Holy crap, you guys make me look like a total amateur. Keep'em coming! Some of you are lucky to be alive....

  41. I was on a business trip at a conference and we had an evening event with a Big Bad Voodoo Daddies concert and free flowing booze. I decided to make gin martini's my drink of the night...however I forgot to make the necessary consumption adjustment from my normal gin and tonics. In other words oh yeah this is all booze no filler. I had 4 including one that was served in a large plastic cup..don't ask. Needless to say the rest of the story is known to me second hand as related by my co-worker. My mishaps for the rest of the evening include falling on my ass in front of the CEO of one of my clients biggest sponsors, yelling "group sex" on the bus ride back to the hotel, falling down the steps of the bus and taking out a bellman, and waking up naked from the waist down. I was still so drunk in the morning I could barely stand and I had to fly home from New Orleans to SF. I threw up in the airport and on the plane after almost taking out the flight attendant who was between me and the bathroom. I have not had a gin martini since.

  42. I was drinking at some shithole bar and did some shots of Jack. I followed that with some Jagermeister and now we have the blackout. I remember being in the drive thru of a Mexican restaurant when I told my friend, the driver, that I had to piss and would be right back.

    When I got back to the car my friend looks at me in horror and yells "What the fuck happened to you?" I asked him what the he was talking about and got pissed when he just shook his head. Finally, after yelling a lot, he said I should look in the mirror. I had dirt and leaves all over my shirt and my entire forehead and half my face was covered in blood. I was surprised at that.

    We got back to his parents house to eat and he suggested I clean the blood off my face because it was making him sick to see me wolfing down a burrito looking like that.

    The next day I figured out that two things happened:
    1. I fell in the bushes.
    2. I was urinating on the brick wall surrounding the dumpsters. Not being able to stand properly, as I urinated I was wobbling back and forth and slammed my forehead into the rough concrete wall…twice. I had two huge goddamn scabs on my forehead for a couple weeks after that.

    I pretty much avoid the Jagermeister now.

  43. I was hanging out with a couple of friends after their band played a show at a local music joint. There were still a lot of bands to see and I was going to be moving out of state in just a few days and ended up getting absolutely piss drunk. I stole a tall boy of beer out of a singer's hand while he was performing a Billy Idol cover, chigged it, and then proceeded the steal the mic and "help" finish the song. (I believe it was Rebel Yell, but I can't be certain.)

    After this, I "helped" my friends load up their van by passing out completely on the floor next to the stage. They simply loaded me into the van with their equipment. I cuddled with a guitar case on the way to their house, where another band from out of town would also be staying. I was carried into the basement, where I demanded someone take off my boots. (I could not navigate my knee high combat boots at this point.) Someone did, and I stole a pillow from one of the band guys (not the one I stole beer from) and passed out.

    All of this was relayed to me the next day.

  44. I have two! And yet I continue to drink...
    First one was at a bachelorette party for a coworker. I go to her house first and we drink around 4 vodka shots, and move on to vodka cranberrys, before actually getting to the club. Problem was, we know the club owners, so they sent us a round, and they announced that we were part of a wedding, so we got another round, and you see where this is going. We were so hammered, and I was finishing people's drinks. I blacked out, but apparently I tried to set my sister up with some old guy, stole half a pack of cigarettes from someone and smoked 'em, and I'm a non smoker, and danced my ass off. Leaving the club, we ran a friend home, and I threw up in her front lawn, then at my sister's boyfriend's house, then at our house. Ugh, no more vodka straight.

    The other time was in Hawaii on a work trip, where I went skinny dipping with coworkers after a booze cruise. I now have pictures of my ass in a thong, in the Pacific Ocean. Good times!

  45. let's see... there was the time i got shitfaced at the staff christmas dinner and made out with our curator at the bar. not racy, i know, but he had a girlfriend and our boss was sitting two barstools away. and then there was the time i was a bridesmaid at my friend's wedding and i ended up making out with this guy i knew from high school. hadn't seen him in nearly 20 years. and he was married. i'm starting to see a pattern here...

  46. Long time reader, first comment, because ... well, I had so many options here I had to share at least one. Most of mine are from college. I went to a Catholic college. Do you know how much Catholics drink? If not, trust me, it's a crapload.
    So, I was a member of a woman's organization (think, poor girls' sorority) that was well-known for its parties. One thing we did was an annual bus trip for a basketball game at another college. A Baptist college. Do you know how much Baptists drink? Not a drop.
    So, we spent the hour drive there drinking (I can't remember how far in advance the "pre-party" started). I think I was drinking vodka and there was likely a fair amount of beer involved. We ran out and drank during halftime, and sometimes towards the end, someone was involved in a fight (I'm not sure, it all became a blur). I do clearly remember the local police coming and escorting our entire 3 busloads of people out of the gym, as well as providing a police escort, complete with lights and sirens, to make sure we got on the interstate and left. Sometime on the ride home, I thought I heard one of my friends getting sick, but the aisle was filled with people (because standing on a bus going 60 mph down the interstate is always a good idea while drunk). Since I couldn't get down the aisle, I thought walking over the seats would be an excellent solution. The bus changed lanes and I pitched forward, slamming my face onto the luggage rack. I thought it was nothing - I mean, I didn't feel anything! Then someone started screaming, apparently a common reaction to a river of blood streaming down someone's face. Then I was informed that you could see right through the area under my lip into my mouth. The bus had to drop me off at the hospital, where the ER doctor promptly began laughing because he immediately recognized the name of my organization on my shirt. First question wasn't what happened, but "what were you drinking and what party was it?" Took a couple stitches with no pain meds because he said I was numb enough.
    What made it worse - I was in my senior year, doing my student teaching. I had to return to a 5th grade class and try to come up for a legitimate reason why it appeared I had grown a goatee over the weekend. Sheesh.

  47. Well.

    The cast: Myself (a girl), Chaz, Billy Bob, Matt, Miya

    The alcohol: Jose Cuervo, Captain Morgan, Vodka.

    The location: Matthew & Billy Bob's house.

    So, summer between my freshman & sophomore years of college, the four of us are spending a typical Thirsty Thursday getting riproaringly plastered - Matt, Miya, & myself on tequila, Chaz on rum & tequila, & Billy Bob on vodka. We started by watching a baseball game, and every time the bat touched the ball, you took a shot.

    Instant replay is a bitch, let me tell you.

    Miya starts to feel ill, and goes upstairs to sleep in Matt's room.

    The rest of us keep drinking. At this point, I am draped over Matt's lap, and poking Chaz in the knee, over and over and over. Chaz is glaring at me, and finally threatens to cut my hand off if I keep doing it.

    I dare him to do it. And he gets out his knife.

    Fortunately for me and my left hand, Chaz cannot do it. In fact, he barely breaks the skin.

    I do the logical thing and call him a pussy. He looks at me and says, "Well, do you want a burn like Matt's?"

    (Earlier in the summer, Chaz and Matt had tried to burn a horsefly bite off of Matt's arm. Matt has a heart shaped scar because of this.)

    I accept and turn my arm over so the underside is exposed. Chaz gets out his lighter, heats up the blade of his knife, and brands my arm. Because of the tequila, I feel nothing.

    My arm now has a sort of divot in it. Like, -___-. The burned area is kind of plastic-y and white. I start poking that.

    (About here, things get a little blurry. Blurrier.)

    So then, I tell Matt, Chaz, & Billy Bob that they should brand themselves, too.

    Initially, Matt & Chaz have enough sense to decline. Billy Bob just offered up his arm.

    (Billy Bob was a big guy. Like, 6'8", with some extra poundage. He kind of sizzled when they branded him.)

    Two down, two to go.

    (Now, as an aside, because otherwise this will not make sense, you have to understand that both Matt and Chaz are of German and East European descent & they get bizarrely nationalistic when drunk. It's kind of funny.)

    I tell them that they're pussies. And that Otto von Bismarck wouldn't want pussies like them in his country.

    Those were apparently the magic words, because Matt & Chaz then branded each other.

    At this point, we considered going upstairs & branding Miya, but decided against it, because we were afraid she would puke on us.

    Instead, we named ourselves the Brotherhood of Fire (as the only girl present, I was overruled by the testosterone), did celebratory tequila shots, and licked the salt off of our burns.

    Then we walked to get donuts, at this awesome donut shop (called Mighty Fine Donuts)in this sketchy as all get out neighborhood. There, we ordered donuts, slushies, coffee, and four salt packets. We got a table, had our slushies, coffee, and donuts, and each opened up a salt packet and poured it on the burn.

  48. "Capitalism run rampant"

    Fight Global Warming!?

    Your ad for the martini glass company is pure capitalism.

    Entertaining too.

    As for "Climate Change," before I pay to fix it, I'll need to see some evidence that it needs to be fixed and that it is actually possible for people, who cannot accurately predict a snowstorm, to influence the climate at all.

    Maybe the anti-capitalism, fight global warming ad on your page was not of your choosing. I would drink to that. Cheers.

  49. Bloody foreheads, mouths and voluntary brandings? Yikes.

    GP, you nailed it. I just make the space available for a price. What ends up in it, I have no control over. I can veto ads, but I leave that one up there for the pure irony of it.

  50. This comment has been removed by the author.

  51. One good thing about getting older is learning to listen to that little voice in your head when it talks to you. Don't believe that advertisement. That deal is too good to be true. Your friend IS trying to sneak on your girl. Don't ever lie to women; they know. Don't park anywhere in DC, even if you are paying a homeless guy $5 to protect it while you're gone.

    I'm usually pretty good at paying attention, bc that little voice has been thru a lot of sht over the years, and he generally knows much better than my real brain.

    I didn't listen very well last weekend.

    I was all prepped to join a blow-out bartender wedding party, including the genius idea of requesting the hotel bar stay open late for the after-party. Instead, I was ThatGuy.

    Way too drunk, way too quick, done too early. The lightweight. Rookie. Nancy. Letting down my friends, missing the after-party, not spending time with the people that deserve it. Dishonoring Kim and Tony's grand alcohol fest of love and wedstuff. I deserve to be disbarred from the Professional Tarbenders Association, and I'll be mailing my Tennessee Squire membership card back to Lynchburg.

    Manda suggests I should post my apology here: I'm Sorry, Love. But I need to do it in public.

    I had a slew of chances to listen to that little voice, but kept shushing it. Dumbass.

    It's allergy season. Benedryl can perform breathing miracles.
    "Do not take with alcohol."
    Shush. It's just a couple little pills, and it's early. I'll be fine.

    "You should grab a sandwich before meeting everyone at the bar before the wedding. That little hotel bar might not serve real food."
    Can't. Running late already. I'll be fine.

    "See dumbass? The hotel bar isn't even open. Make a run to McD real quick. No more yanky my wanky... the Donger need food!"
    No food here. Everything's closed. I'm going to grab the after-party cooler out of the car, so we can crack a few in the rooms. I'll be fine.

    "OK, OK. You know what you're doing. Just a beer or two. No liquor."
    Just one shot of Svedka Vodka. I've never had it before, and I'd really like a taste. With RedBull, too! I'll be fine.

    "You need to grab a snack on the way to the wedding; chips, bread, Funions, sandwich, Snickers, whatever. Put something in mah belly!"
    Yep. Good idea. We can stop at that little convenience store on the way, and I'll be fine.

    "You just drove past that little convenience store. Tell her to turn around!"
    Yah, I know. We're almost there now. We'll check in, say hello, and I'll sneak back for a snack if they don't have munchies out. I'll be fine.

    "We're here. No munchies. Let's go down back down the street now."
    Shush. I'm chatting. I haven't seen these guys in forever.

    "You're stalling. Finish that bottle, and let's go. Hurry up. No, dammit, you do not have time for 'just one more' before the wedding starts."
    You're really starting to irritate me, little voice. I told you, I'll be fine.

    "Time's up. Wedding / appetizers / reception is starting in a minute, just have a glass of water and chill for a bit."
    I'll have another beer please.

    "Salad does not count as 'eating something', and beer does not go well with salad. Drink some water before you get drunk."
    Oooooh, they have wine at the winery! Imagine!
    "But you don't drink wine."
    Shush. This is a special occasion, and we're at a winery. I drink wine today! I'll be juuuuuusht fiine.

    (continued below...)

  52. "You're drunk. Eat a good dinner, drink a couple glasses of water, and chill out for a bit."
    I like wine, and wine likes me.

    "You're slurring. Quit talking."
    Shush. Everyone at the table is vitally interested in all my way too personal information.

    "You're sloshing red wine all over yourself. Don't order any more."
    Wow, little voice, you finally made a bit of sense! I'll have another glass of white, please.

    "Dude. Stop already. There's a whole second party to go to in a bit. Ease off now, and you'll roll right into the next one."
    Nope. Point of no return. "Ease off" is not happening now. Game on! Ima go dansh some more.

    "Hey, the reception is over. You should call your sister, who's watching the kids. She can play the voice mail for them as a life lesson."
    Great idea, Little Voice! You must be drunk, too! I'll call her right now.

    "Wake up drunky. It's 1130, we're in the driveway at home, and you can't sleep in the car."
    K. Bed is niiiiishe.

    So many chances, and I missed every single one of 'em. Little voice knows, and I know to listen, but effed it up for me and everyone that I disappointed that night.

    I'm sorry, and I won't let it happen again. From now on, I'm never playing in the rookie league again. It's totally uncool to everyone who had to put up with my retarded ass last weekend.

    If anybody knows how to get in touch with the skinny-girl bartender at the winery, she deserves the biggest apology of all. She escorted me up the hill to the main plantation house to use the restroom. It was dark and drizzling, and the house was straight out of an episode of ScoobyDoo. I can still hear the spooky music.

    I started doubting her on the front walk, asking if she was taking me into some sort of trouble. She kinda giggled, but I think she kinda played it up a little bit. Pushed the buttons a little bit, and I got a little nervous.

    I didn't turn my back on her for a second, b/c I was getting more and more nervous. And she was taking it farther and farther. All I know was that when I was done in the restroom, I was really scared to open the door and come back out to the hallway. I knew she was waiting out there with a big machete to drop into my skull.

    I cut the light, and pulled the door the slightest bit. Peeped out with just an eyeball. I can live with one eye, but not with my head opened like a summer melon at a picnic. She saw my eye, and pushed the buttons some more. I told her I was scared of what she was gonna do, and she needed to stay alllll the way down at that end of the hall so I could sneak out the front door.

    She wanted to know what I thought she was planning. I dunno.... machetes and haunted houses and all that. For all I know, she's planning to cut me open and eat my liver! And she totally rolled with that. Admitted to my drunkass that she was a connoisseur of fine human innards, and I was def on the menu if I let my guard down for half a second.

    Fuuuuck that. I'm outta that nuthouse now. No effing way I'm going to a wedding with my friends and winding up as foie gras. I backed out the door, and got safely back down to the reception hall. My total relief was shattered when nobody believed that cute little bartender was a closet cannibal trying to cut me open for my sweetbreads.

    I'm very sorry, skinny little bartender girl.

    (Originally, I posted my apology here: http://fridaywaster.blogspot.com/2009/03/public-apology.html)

  53. It was my undergraduate graduation. I blame the club at which we celebrated. They gave me a comp'd bottle of champagne. Which I didn't understand was meant to be shared. So I drank it all. And then kept going. (Yes, martinis were also involved.)

    It'd be a lot funnier if I could remember all the details, but only a few survived. The best: my new crush having to drive me home (in my super-sassy station wagon, nonetheless), as I cried in my passenger seat and repeated "I'm so sorry!" about a hundred times. Meanwhile, my mom is in the backseat (oh yeah), berading me for apologizing to a guy. My brother (even better, I know), is inexplicably rolling around in the very back of the wagon, pretending to be thrown around by Crush's bad driving and making siren sounds.

    And then I woke up to find half the eyelashes on my left eye were singed off due to a misguided smoking attempt.

    Cruch and I still dated for four years after that debacle. (I must be reeeeally good in bed, yes?)

  54. This seems too fun to pass up. I can barely pick which story but here goes...
    In college, and we all planned to go camping. Me and one other girl piled up on 4 cases of beer and went out to our campsite to set it up in daylight. When we returned, mind you we are all around 23,24 years old, there was a Park Ranger greeting us with his high beams in our faces. He said he had found our campsite with all of the beer. Then he proceeded to make us line it up on the ground. He then ran over it a few times with his truck. Obviously, this guy needed a hug. So he follows as we walk back to our cars, laughing histerically. It is very dark but we are walking in the bright stream of his headlights. My friend Patrick had once more case of beer in his bookbag that just happend to be too much pressure on the zipper I guess, because it fell out and busted in the road, headlights shining on the cans rolling all over the road. It was too much for us. We laughed histerically while the pissed off ranger swerved to run over the remaining beer. We then proceeded to leave the park, go to the store, buy even more beer than before and play drinking games until all hours of the morning. I split my pants from my ankle up to the crotch area. I passed out on the couch with a friend. Around 8 am, the air conditioner guy came to the door, which I got up to answer in my split pants. Then I was soooo sick. I went to the bathroom and was unhappy to find that there was nothing to handle up on my beer sh*ts/yacking with than those tiny dental cotton squares. A few hundred of those down the toliet later and I hobbled home (across a main street), pants split and bent over like an Igor. Good Times.

  55. I met my husband when I was drunk.

    At least I got lucky and he was cute, no coyote ugly required.

  56. Caitlin, me too. In a bar, no less. He's still around 16 years later, so it doesn't always end in disaster.

  57. Anonymous4:29 PM

    Craziest night occurred this past year while studying abroad in China.
    A big group of international students went out to a local club after getting loaded off of 30 cent beer, gin, baijiu (foul-tasting rice wine usually no less than 50% alcohol), and two dollar wine.
    After dancing like crazy while Chinese people retreated in fright to the edge of the dance floor to stare, me and my Aussie friend decide we're thirsty.
    (As a note, from this point on I don't remember anything, but have been told of that night's events many times since, through speech, pictures, and videos.)
    Apppaaaarrreenttly, we begin running around the club, me leading, stopping at random Chinese people's tables, grabbing their pitchers of alcohol, chugging, then sprinting away.
    Haha I can't even imagine the reaction of these people as some crazy white guy chugs their alcohol in front of them and then sprints away, and right on his heels is some cute blonde girl who pounds even more of your booze before running away.
    So we do this several times apparently, and I get kicked out of the club. Then sneak back in.
    And get kicked out...
    And sneak back in once more I get pulled out and forced to sit indian style while surrounded by a circle 8 Chinese police decked out in riot gear. helmets, pads, rubber batons.. the whole thing.
    One friend saw me in this situation, and freaks out and starts calling other friends to figure out how they're gonna convince these cops to not take me to jail (using only Chinese). Somehow I bust through these cops and sprint away laughing. Hour later, after unknown events, me and 3 girls have broken into a chinese public bus and are trying to steal it. The video we have of this part involves me kicking out a window, stumbling out of the bus and sitting on the curb, only to be kicked in the head by the afore-mentioned blonde Aussie, who then runs away giggling.
    Next day i wake up in my friend's bed unbelievably hungover, freezing wearing only my boxers, cuddling with an eight inch chef knife.
    (Johnny, I still have the bus video if you want proof haha.)

  58. Anonymous4:55 PM

    I refused to let my friends throw a wedding shower, so they threw me and my fiance a cocktail party instead. The theme of the night was a competition to create a drink that represented "us." The worst drink was an "uncomfortable sex on the beach," which was an odd mix of a dirty martini and a sex on the beach with a dash of pepper (you can't have sex on the beach without sand!). The creator of the drink was the one who married us...but that's another story. The winning drink was something yummy with vanilla vodka and chocolate and 1/2&1/2. I drank many. My superstar fiance was the DD and as we were almost home, he hit a giant pothole and lost the hubcap to his car. He let me (and the dog) out and went back to find his hubcap. I had no keys. I stumbled around our apartment building, tripped, fell, and started vomiting as I twirled down the hill to our apartment patio. I was like a vomit-spewing pinwheel with a crazed, vomit-eating dog prancing after me. My fiance found me 15 minutes later, curled fetally on the grass outside, vomit-encrusted leaves coating my hair and a chops-licking dog by my side. And yes, he still married me!

  59. A couple years ago I got really drunk and decided I needed to take a shower, I remember falling backwards and ripping down the shower curtain/rod and then must've blacked out. I woke up the next morning to a pissed off boyfriend and the cold water running in the tub.. I went to turn it off wondering why the hell it was on and noticed the HANDLE WAS BROKEN OFF. So the water was running all night long in the bathtub.. I had apparently fallen and broken it (all 110lbs of me) and sat there cracking up until I was put to bed. I was also shown photos of me laying on the bathroom floor with a sink full of vomit in the background (Why the hell would I puke in the sink is beyond me, the toilet is right next to it) ... Yeah, I've never had a repeat night like that again.

  60. Anonymous5:19 PM

    At age 20, I got drunk and accidentally pooped in my grandma's shower. The end.