Leave it to the New York Post to come up with a surefire crackoutblackout plan such as this. They sent an underage intern of theirs to several New York bars to see if he would be carded. So says the Post:

He got served at an astonishing 17 of 30 establishments — 57 percent — despite the stores and gin joints facing fines up to $10,000 and the loss of their state liquor licenses.

Many of the spots, selected randomly from among 132 places with underage State Liquor Authority violations from May 1, 2009 to May 1, 2010, never bothered to ask the college sophomore for his ID — a valid New Jersey driver’s license showing his birthday, Aug. 29, 1989.

At Kate’s Joint, at 58 Ave. B, a female bartender asked for his ID, looked at the license briefly and poured the intern a Blue Moon draft, waving at the owner herself, Kate, as she sat at the bar, which had two signs cautioning that drinking was not legal for those under 21.

Her only question: “Would you like some orange wedges with that?”

Hey, at least they’re making sure the kid gets some sustenance before he cracks out and blacks out! For the record, we here at Crackoutblackout don’t condone underage drinking.

Some gorgeous guys came and rescued us from the creepers who were trying to bump and grind. They were very nice and we had a good time dancing. We got really hot after a while so one of the guys bought us a couple more pitchers of sangria. So we drank and danced until we couldn’t feel our toes. We were all pretty trashed by the end of the night. Somehow through my alcohol fueled fog I managed to type “Hebnry” into my phone along with his number and added a date for the next Friday into my calendar.

I forgot about “Hebnry” until Tuesday when I was making my weekend plans. I saw the date in my calendar and remembered that we had a good time. I texted him and asked him if we were still on and he said yes and to meet him at Schiller’s at 9:30 on Friday.

I was looking forward to my date all day Friday. Then once I got to the bar I realized I had gotten so trashed I couldn’t remember what he looked like. Luckily he remembered what I looked like but he couldn’t remember my name!

- Submitted by Drunken Debbie

Calling a girl this late at night comes off as too obvious and can quickly backfire.  She’s going to ask you all those annoying questions like, ‘Why didn’t you call me earlier if you wanted to see me?’.  And she’s going to be able to hear just how fucked up you are when you’re hiccupping and your friends are calling you a homo in the background.  If you’re still at the bar, you’re not going to be able to hear each other anyway. Reverting to a text is the best solution here as you can save some face if she doesn’t respond.  But you need to make sure that you spur interest.  You’re not the only one trying to score, so you need to stick out from the crowd.  The “Wat r u up 2?” isn’t going to cut it this late at night.  Let me also recommend that you text a few girls earlier in the evening.  Simply asking what they are doing that night will show that you were thinking about them sober.  This will improve your chances of meeting should you happen to drunk text them.  So without further ado, here are my top 5 sexts to send to girls when you’re blasted.  These are in no particular order:

“Hey, could you grab milk on the way back?”

You’re probably wondering what the hell this has to do with hooking up.  Stay with me.  Once you text this to a girl, she’s going to send back, ‘What?’  Then you can reply, “Sorry, that was meant for someone else. What are you doing tonight?”  This method gets you the response first, before you ask what she’s doing.  This makes it harder for her to ignore you since she’s already responded once.  Now you have to figure out a proper invite to get her to hang out.

“[Insert girly movie], wine, my place?”

It’s a proven fact that girls love romantic comedies and that girls love wine.  And now you’re bringing them both together.  This is the next step up from the college move: “Want to do shots upstairs in my room?”   This text will mostly work with girls whose friends just went home with their husbands/boyfriends/one-night-stands.  She’s going to feel a bit lonely once she realizes that her friends will be in someone’s arms while she sleeps alone at home.  By adding a romantic comedy and wine, you put yourself above the echelon of guys that are just asking her to come over and blow them like Pearl Harbor.  She’ll just think that you’re a sweet guy who wants someone to spend the night with.  That is, until she gets to your place…but then it will already be ‘game over’.

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There was a guy there, Henry. I was crushing on him and I hadn’t seen him in a few weeks. He was talking to me and that was progress. We had some shots and some drinks until we were tired of the current bar. We decided to go to the Blind Tiger Ale House all the way across town in the west village. I wasn’t so happy about the trek but they had my favorite beer and Henry was going so I agreed.

We all split up. It had started pouring and there was a good chance we would have to walk all the way across town, as the cabs were scarce. However, I have serious taxi hailing skills so after walking through the rain for a few blocks we found a cab and beat everyone else, including Henry to the bar.

It had stopped raining by the time we got there so we waited outside for some of our friends. Henry arrived with his group shortly after we did so we went inside to get drinks. Of course I had to pee so I went to find the bathroom. He followed me into the bathroom.

“Oh my god! What are you doing?” I said as he shut the door quickly behind him.

“This,” he said as he pulled me close to him and started kissing me. I was a little too drunk to keep him off of me and who am I kidding? I wanted it. Then he hiked me up, putting my legs around his waist, pushing me up against the wall and accidently turning the light off with my back. It was hilarious and I started laughing while he was kissing me. Not very romantic but what is romantic about making out with a guy in the pitch-black bathroom of an NYC bar? I got it together only to hear my friend Jamie out in the hallway. I guess they realized I had gone missing. “Deeeeebiiiiieeeeee? Deeeeeeeeeeeeebiiiieeeee,” she sang in a high-pitched voice. I completely lost control at this point and started giggling again, but tried to do so quietly so she wouldn’t hear me on the other side of the door. My crush was getting irritated that I wasn’t taking our make out session seriously.

I heard Jamie talking to my other friend Leslie contemplating my whereabouts. “Have you seen Debbie?” Jamie asked. “No I thought she went to the bathroom but I haven’t seen her since.”

I couldn’t stop laughing and I still had to pee. The situation was getting dangerous. I tried to tell him to stop. “We really need to get out of here and I still have to pee,” I explained. Instead he started to take my pants off. It was not the time of month for that kind of fun so I told him to stop. “Why?” he asked. “I’m sorry but I’m on my period.” He was not happy about this. “Are you serious?” “Yeah.” He finally let me down and started to open the door.

“Be careful! I came in here because I really had to pee!”  He turned on the light and turned around. Then he left and I followed shortly after.

I went to find my friends and they all asked me where I was. “Yeah, I heard you Jamie. Did you really have to say it like that? Henry followed me into the bathroom and was making out with me while you were outside calling me like my mother did when I was three and hiding from her.” We all started laughing. “This deserves more shots,” Jamie said. “Hey everyone! It’s my friend Jamie’s birthday!” I said. And we headed to the bar once again.

- Submitted by Drunken Debbie

Image by Heather

This goes out to a special someone that is sadly leaving us for greener pastures:

It all started out at a new bar that had opened up a few months prior. It was started by a few choice B-list celebrities with the intent of attracting a wide range of people. This included skinny boys with numerous tattoos, which happened to be just my type. One of the bartenders fit this bill. His name was Jimmy and had the body of a rockstar. He made sure every girl in that bar knew it by lifting up his shirt to show off his amazing abs.

I was drawn to him like a moth to the flame. He poured me drink after drink without me knowing what was in them. Before I knew it, I was drunk beyond belief. I danced on the floor with my friends, twirling and flailing my arms around like a doped out hippy. I walked over to Jimmy just as he was pulling up his shirt to show his toned abs to another gaggle of girlies when I grabbed a pen off the counter and proceeded to write on him. I wrote “I <3 Rachel” with my number and then fled out of the bar giggling with my friends.

I got into a cab with two of my friends but didn’t realize how drunk I really was. Before I knew it, I was puking in the cab all over them both. We got to my friend’s apartment and I threw up all over her comforter. I ripped off my clothes and threw them into her tub and ran around her apartment stark naked screaming “I swear I am not drunk!” Not 5 minutes later I was passed out on her bed (the comforter was thrown on the floor still covered in my vomit) still naked and drunk. All of this was retold to me the following day since I didn’t remember a thing.

~submitted by Drunken Debbie