I attended a junior society benefit for a Spanish dance company with a Cinco De Mayo theme a few years ago. I was supposed to meeting a friend but she wasn’t feeling well so I was flying solo. I called another friend, Cable Guy, who lived near the club where the benefit was being held to see if he wanted to come. He started a very successful cable network and had a house nearby. He said he was having some people over for drinks at his place that night so he couldn’t come but he wanted me to come by after the benefit. I didn’t want to stay out late since it was a week night but I told him I might stop by.

I arrived at the club where the benefit was being held all decked out in a gorgeous limited edition dress that looked like it was made for me. I didn’t know anyone there but I had decided I was going to network and had a tiny purse full of business cards. I was a little nervous to introduce myself to people but I knew once the dancing started I wouldn’t be alone for long. I drank while I was working up the nerve to start a conversation. I tried not to drink too fast but I didn’t have anything else to do. One drink turned into two. I found a few people to talk to and finally the dancing started. I danced for a while with my new friend and then we were hot so we hit the bar. Again.

I was getting tipsy after three margaritas in a span of two hours. The tipsier I was, the sassier I got. I found a young guy sitting by himself about 20 minutes before the benefit was over. I decided that I would ask him to dance. He was a little shy and I told him not to be. Young Guy and I were dancing and talking. I was having a good time. He asked me for my number and I gave him my card, one of many I had handed out that evening.

Once the benefit was over I teetered over the cobblestones in my super high heels to my friend’s place. It’s a wonder I didn’t fall on my face. I told myself I wouldn’t stay long. It was weeknight after all. I really wanted to see my friend. I hadn’t seen him in months. Then I would go home.

I got to the party and he was nowhere to be found. I was talking to some very nice people and they offered me a drink. I said no, I wasn’t drinking anymore that night. Then a little while I decided to have a little wine. I kept looking for my friend and every time I found him he disappeared into the crowd. So I grabbed an empty chair to rest my aching feet. An older guy sat down and started talking to me. I really didn’t want to talk to him but I did want to sit down. I gave him my card because it was networking night and I had lost my common sense with the third margarita. Someone came by with a couple of drinks and offered me one. I took it thinking it would maybe make this annoying old guy disappear. It was really good so I drank it quickly and when he came by again half an hour later I got another one. Needless to say I was flat out drunk by this time. The next thing I knew the old guy I was talking to was making out with me. I didn’t want to but I wasn’t sure how to make it stop in my drunken state. Finally I got him off of me and went outside for some fresh air.

I went back inside and was taking lots of pictures. I asked someone to take a picture of me in my hot dress. I started doing all these drunken poses and then they dropped my camera on the floor. I picked it up to survey the damage almost falling on the floor myself. The lens was stuck out and it wouldn’t go back in. I tired to push it but it wouldn’t go back in. I was devastated. I didn’t leave the house without my camera. This sobered me up a little bit and I remembered I still hadn’t talked to my friend. I was ready to go home and cry but I at least had to say hello to him first.

I finally found him and we started having a conversation. After we had been talking for a while I realized that everyone had left and it was just the two of us. We were both leaning up against the wall in the kitchen chatting. The next thing I knew he was making out with me.  I couldn’t believe it. I really didn’t think I was his type and he was 40 years older than me. Two older guys had tried to take advantage of me in one evening. It was time to leave. Somehow, I got control of myself and told him I needed to go home. I looked for my coat and it was gone. Someone had stolen my favorite coat! My camera, my honor and my coat were all gone. I was incredibly upset. He gave me one of his coats and walked me downstairs to get a cab.

I got in the cab and thankfully it wasn’t a long ride. I was almost home, then I leaned over and started puking in the back of the cab. The driver started grumbling and cursing and I instinctively held up the $20 I had in my hand over the partition while I continued to puke. Once I stopped I told him to just pull over and let me out. He obliged and I handed him the $20. I hobbled a few steps to a lamppost and put my hand on it to steady myself and then puked again. Finally having it all out I dragged my sorry ass back to my apartment.

The next morning I woke up and sleepily looked at the clock. It was 10:30 AM. I was supposed to be at work 2 hours ago. Oh god. I threw on a robe and ran to brush my teeth and wash my face quickly. As I was washing my face the doorbell rang. “What NOW?!” I thought as I ran to answer it. There were 10 people outside of my apartment. They needed to check a leak. I was so pissed. “You have to come back in half an hour!” I shouted. I slammed the door and quickly threw on some clothes. I didn’t even know what time I got home last night. I obviously hadn’t turned on my alarm.

I ran downstairs and it was pouring rain. So helpful. I got in a cab and called work to tell them I had overslept and was on my way. After I hung up the phone I realized that they were taking me out to lunch that day for a belated Administrative Professionals Day gift. Because I was “such a great find” and “so good at what I did.” Oh my god. It was only getting worse as the taxi meter ticked off the miles.

I finally arrived at work. The news anchor on the television at my desk was wearing a neon green shirt and I had to look away. I was still a little drunk and the colors were going to make me sick. We were leaving for lunch soon. I really didn’t want sit close to my co-workers for an hour and the last thing I wanted to do was eat but I had no choice.

I survived lunch and their teasing and was starting to feel a little bit better. I checked my email that afternoon and I had a message from Young Guy asking me out. I had no idea what I’d said to him and was embarrassed so ignored it. Twenty minutes later I got another email this time from the older guy whose name was apparently James. “I was kissing your lips and then you disappeared into the night…” OH MY GOD! I remembered I made out with two older guys! Could it get any worse? Oh yes, it could. My leg started itching so I rolled up my pants to see why. There was a huge gash on my knee that I hadn’t noticed in my rush to get out the door. It all came back to me. I was walking out of Cable Guy’s house and I tripped and fell flat on my face in my drunken state. I guess I scraped up my knee in the process. I was horrified.

As the day wore on I realized the potential for more disaster. Had I puked on my brand new limited edition dress or shoes? Could my camera be fixed? I couldn’t even access the pictures to put together the forgotten pieces of the night. I finally escaped the office and ran to the camera shop conveniently located across the street. There was nothing they could do to fix it. They said I would have to send it off to the manufacturer but it would be cheaper and worth it to just buy a new one. I didn’t know what to do. I never left the house without my camera and I couldn’t afford to buy a new one. I only had that one for six months.

I raced home after the bad news almost sick again about what might have happened to my brand new amazing dress and shoes. I looked around but I didn’t see them anywhere. I went to my closet to find that even though I was extremely inebriated I not only managed to avoid my dress and shoes in the process of puking but I also hung up my dress, put my shoes back in their box and my little purse back in it’s protective bag. Whew. I sighed a sigh of relief thinking it was all over and went to my bed to pass out.  Little did I know that this evening would haunt me for an untold amount of time.

Three days later, I got another email from Young Guy telling me that I had helped him to overcome his shyness and I shouldn’t be the shy one now. I still ignored him completely embarrassed at my drunken behavior. I just wanted the madness to stop.

Eight months later I was at Cable Guy’s home again for a party. I brought along a friend for protection and gave myself a two drink maximum. I was talking to some friends and I saw a guy I remembered from the night of debauchery. I remembered he was nice so I struck up a conversation with him.  He said that he tried to email me afterward but I never got back to him. “Oh you did? I don’t remember that.” Then it all came rushing back. I had mistaken his email as being from another older guy. I didn’t even remember kissing him! THREE older men had taken me advantage of that night not just two! Stunned, I said I had been really busy and was horrible at emailing people back. I politely left the conversation and dragged my friend upstairs into a bathroom to tell her the latest and make sure I wasn’t having a nightmare. After she finished laughing hysterically I noticed a pair of lacy panties on the sink. Cable Guy lived alone and was known to be a ladies man. I looked at my friend and said “Well, at least I made it out with my underwear!”

- Submitted by Drunken Debbie

Image via flickr tantra9360

I am going to a hockey game so i needed some pre hockey game beers, so I stop at the pub by my house and grab a 6 pack.

We get to our seats with about 5 minutes left in the 1st period. I sit down and next to me there is a kid about 10 yrs old with a tube coming out of his nose…..This scares me as I am the most belligerent drunk that I know, and I don’t want to yell something and have this kid break down and die of a heart attack. So the first intermission comes, and I go out to get a beer and have a smoke.

So I am now feeling pretty good after about 6 beers and it was safe to say that I was well on my way to being drunk. So out in the smoke pit I see a big commotion and 10 security guards running that way, me being a sucker for entertainment followed. This guy apperently took a shot at one of the security guards so 10 of them wresteled him down in the biggest puddle they could find and while wrestling him down they bumped into me and spilled half my beer. This made me angry. So I decided they might as well finish it so I dumped the rest of all over the 5 or 6 guys that were on the ground. This made me feel a little better. Watching this guy on the ground covered in beer with 4 officers on top of him while people watching are screaming “Rodney King, Rodney King!” was highlight #1 of the night.

So after this we go back to our seats, and I tell my friend to take my seat so I don’t scare the kid with the tube up his nose. So the game goes on and the beer goes quick. Ryan Kessler gets the puck and I yell out “Your not worth 1.9!” as that is what he is getting paid this year and the guy in front of me tells me to shut up as he is trying to watch the hockey game. I tell him to shove it. This, my friends, is what is called foreshadowing: I get pissed off at him as I am at a a hockey game and I can be as loud as I want. So as the game goes on I get louder and louder and closer and closer to this guys ear. He is visibly annoyed. More hockey and a lot more beer pass and this guy has had it with my antics. He stands up and I really forgot what he said but after he said it I pushed him over his little railing and he fell on the people in front of him. I almost burst out crying I was laughing so hard! Highlight #2 of the night. The lady next to me was also in tears as she seen the whole thing and thought this guy had it coming. I don’t remember the score but it was a good time. My head really hurt the next morning but not nearly as much as the other guy. At least that’s what I like to think.

~submitted by Wasted Willy

“I don’t know if I’m quite ready to share my drunken antics, but one of my all-time favorite drunk stories happened here in DC. It was my friend’s 21st birthday and he was an intern on the Hill. It was a Thursday night so we all went out.. I think to the Pour House. After a couple of hours he’s pretty wasted (not surprising) but manages to disappear. I assume he’s in the bathroom so I send one of his friends to check on him. He’s not there. We scour the bar and we can’t find him anywhere. At this point, I’m calling his cell phone repeatedly to no answer. We leave the bar, I’m still calling him, and finally I reach him. He tells me that he’s headed to the metro to go home. At this point it’s 1am and the metro is closed, but he doesn’t seem to acknowledge this. He tells me he’s on 3rd and C, which isn’t too far away. We run there, he’s nowhere to be found. We think maybe he meant 3rd and C NE, or NW? We start running north, all the while I’m calling him over and over. Finally I get a call:

‘Hello, is this Kathleen?’

‘Umm…. yes it is.’

‘This is Officer So-and-So, I think I’ve got your friend Neil here.’

‘Oh shit, really? Where are you?”’

“He tells me where he is, but we’re just a bunch of stupid interns, so we get lost. I see a police officer along the way and ask for directions. He laughs and says ‘Ohhhhhh, it’s YOUR friend they’ve got over there?!’

“We finally round the corner and I see Neil sitting on the curb, shirt ripped, covered in blood, with about 10 Capitol Policemen standing around him laughing. He still has his intern ID affixed to his beltloop. According to one of the policemen (who could barely get words out he was laughing so hard) they found him in a bush. They would have taken him to the station if they hadn’t gotten in touch with me. I ended up bringing him back to my place where he proceeded to puke all night, wake up at about 10 the next morning and rush back to work in the same clothes. It just happened to be picture day with Sen. McCain…. the picture is pretty priceless.”

Congratulations Neil! You are our Wasted of the Week!

Story via Yelp

via Twitpic

Take care if you are planning to toast the New Year with champagne – the bubbles in this most celebratory of tipples really do get you drunk more quickly.

Many people say that champagne bubbles “go straight to their head”, making them giggly and light-headed. Researchers have now confirmed these inebriating effects in the lab for the first time.

Take for example, this fine young lady:

I usually prefer to drink hard liquor but I drank champagne twice and this stuff gets me plastered. The first time I drank champagne I had two bottles within a 30 minute period (which I don’t recommend…) and was blacked out for probably six hours. The second time was very similar except I was blacked out for EVEN longer. The 30 minutes or so I do remember, I was a very happy and giggly drunk. It was an ethereal buzz more than anything else. I felt like a very slurry fairy. That part I enjoyed and I was not sick at all or hungover in the morning. The only thing about champagne is it completely destroys my motor skills which is why I don’t drink it often. I was told later that as I was “flitting” around like a tiny person with wings, I tried interjecting a game of beer pong with my amazing skills only to stumble directly onto the table, faceplanted and knocked over all of the cups in the process. I don’t recommend doing that either. Beer pong-ers can get mighty angry.

~submitted by Drunken Debbie (article via New Scientist)

“It was the night before my graduation. I would be receiving a doctorate the following day and damn it, was I psyched! I went out for one last night of debauchery with my friends before I left the town and people I had grown to love over the previous three years. I had been “dating” a guy named Forrest* for a few months (if by dating it means going out, getting drunk and sleeping together). I had decided that I was going to finally ask him where “we” were going, if anywhere, since I was moving 5 hours away.

“I went out with my girlfriends to a dive bar and we proceeded to hit it hard and heavy. I had to get enough liquid encouragement to have “the talk” with Forrest. He was at someone else’s grad party and had planned to meet me later in the night. I had a long island to start off, followed by some shots. And some more shots. And yet more shots. Forrest showed up at some point and we drank more shots. I could barely comprehend my name, much less where we might or might not be going in our relationship so I thought we should just go back to his place and have sex one last time. He was plastered, but luckily his apartment was really close.

“What happens after we arrived at his place is a mystery, to us both. My graduation ceremony was to take place at noon. I woke up at 9am completely naked with a hangover from hell. I quickly dressed and poked Forrest to get out of bed to take me back to my car. He was naked as well, and was still wearing a condom. We conclude that we both passed out before we had our final hoorah. I had to throw up before leaving his apartment.

“Before I could even begin the drive back my home, I had to pull behind a Value City Furniture store to throw up. I knew this was going to be a BAD day. If it were up to me, I would have totally skipped my graduation. I seriously felt like death. Never in my life had I felt so hung over and sick. I managed to make it back home. My family was staying in a nearby hotel and was coming to pick me up around 11am. I went to bed and didn’t wake up until my phone went off, asking if I was almost ready. Fuck. I jumped into the shower and spent the entire time on my hands and knees heaving my guts out as the shower streamed down onto my body.

“I somehow managed to get dressed but couldn’t even function enough to put any make up on. I seriously looked like death warmed over. My stomach was in knots and the nausea was terrible. We arrived at the graduation and I donned my tacky gown. Everyone I passed asked if I was alright. I knew how I looked but didn’t think I was THAT bad. Apparently it was. My grandma told me I still reeked of alcohol.

“Being blessed with a last name at the beginning of the alphabet was also my curse on this day. I had to lead my fellow graduates into the auditorium and would be the first to have my degree conferred. It was hot inside and this did not help my situation. I was squeezed in between a hefty professor and another student. I’m agnostic, but I prayed to whatever was up there that I could make it through that ceremony without heaving all over the place.

“They called my name and I went onto the stage. I felt that gurgle in my stomach. I could taste the bile rising in my throat. I ducked to allow them to adorn me with my doctorate sash. Just keep breathing, I told myself. I made it off the stage without throwing up onto the Dean. Anastasia -1, Hangover-0.

“Somehow I managed to get through the rest of the long ceremony. All I wanted to do was to crawl into bed and sleep for the next 24 hours. But this was not in the cards. I was also scheduled to finish packing up my house and to move 5 hours away. My mom decided I needed further punishment than my obvious hangover misery so she forced me to load my shit into the moving truck and to drive back home just after the ceremony. No time for a nap. No time to just catch my breath. I was still sick when I arrived back home that evening.

“Between my camera and talking with friends, I managed to piece together the night. I had one long island and 17 shots. My bar tab was almost $150. I apparently bared my breasts so the doorman would let me borrow his sombrero for an early Cinco De Mayo picture. I never had “the talk” with Forrest.. We never had one last romp (not that either of us would have remembered, but hey! We at least remembered a condom!). I can no longer drink long islands and pretty much want to projectile vomit any time I take a shot of any kind. I am forever scarred.

*Names have been changed to protect the guilty.

XOXO,

*~*Anatastia X*~*”

We get to the party and it is PACKED. They are only serving one drink: vodka soda. Well, I guess it could be 3: vodka, soda or vodka soda but needless to say all of the drinks looked the same and most everyone opted for the ‘alcohol in’ option including, of course, unfed me. As the evening wears on I’m having a lot of fun, have forgotten about wanting to eat and have had no idea which drink is/was mine, for the past few hours. I was probably drinking out of 15 different glasses because I’m classy like that and like to put my drink down and then pretend I can identify it by the unique shape the squeezed lime has assumed. Don’t judge me.

So it’s about midnight at this point and I am wastedddd. I especially realize this when the BF, who is equally wasted wants to go to the bar in between where we currently are and home which is fine except when we get there they wont let him in because its past last call. He starts arguing with the bouncer saying he can see his friends and just wants to go in and say hi but the bouncer isn’t budging. I’m not sure who pushed who first because at this point I had snuck to the side of the building after getting the ‘I am about to be sick hiccups’ and was proceeding to vomit up my entire liquid dinner.  Out of the corner of my eye I see my boyfriend fleeing down the street being pursued by the 2 fattest cops I have ever seen in my entire life and the bouncer kind of… lying on the bottom steps of his bar.

Oh no. The BF stopped running as they were yelling “police!!” at him and brought him back to the scene where about 4 other cops have arrived and proceeded to arrest him. Then I notice that all 5 cops are from our university, which is located about 2 blocks away and they are specifically employed so that little naughty rich bitch students from our school don’t get arrested. Unless they’re really obnoxious apparently as the arrest was totally happening as BF had bopped the bouncer in the side of the head without noticing that he was surrounded by police men.

I was standing there hiccuping. I’m pretty sure I had vomit on my flesh colored dress and the cops are asking me too many questions “ma’am – are you driving yourself home?”

Me: “Hahaha — fuck no”

Cop:” MA’AM?”

Me: “No. No.”

Cop: “Ma’am – have you been drinking?”

Me: [wiping sides of mouth and subtly breath checking] “Uh… yes. just a little! I’m graduating from Rich Bitch University.” (Subtle hint that I am the students that you are supposed to protect! I’m too drunk to think if I’m actually committing an arrestable offense in the moment but please don’t arrest me!)

The BF starts struggling in his cuffs right now so all the attention turns back to him but apparently he is just dancing. They let him give me his personal items like wallet and sweater and some of my friends drive me back to our place in his car, which I proceed to throw up on the passengers door as were going home.  My friends crash in our bed together and I sleep on the couch in the adjoining living room. Sleep is a bad word. I pass the FUCK out on the couch in the living room. Around 7.20 in the morning my phone – which is some how like, stuck to my face, wakes me up. I have 43 missed calls and like 24 voice mails. The BF apparently managed to sneak his mobile phone (later I found out that he put it in the front of his underpants) into the jail cell and has been calling me all night. He is angry. and wants to be bailed out. He was charged with a misdemeanor. I get in the car. I never threw up in it (THANK GOD), just on the outside, and go to the courthouse and who is walking in at the same time I am? BF’s criminal lawyer daddy. I guess I wasn’t the only one he called that night. I am still wearing last nights clothes, make up and stomach contents and make awkward hellos and eye contact but feel like I win because I’m just dating someone that’s in jail while he’s the dad, as in poor parenting on his part/lack of genetic responsibility on mine.

The BF gets bailed, I drive us home where we go back to sleep until its dinner time and I finally eat, 24+ hours too late. BF tells me about his time in jail — and no, he didn’t get butt raped, I asked. He probably would have bopped them in the head anyways.

Fast forward 2 weeks the BF and I are employed for the summer at a children’s wilderness camp in the mountains and have to go get fingerprinted, as the law requires, because were working with kiddos. And guess where we have to go to get inked?! Yes. The same place he was arrested and I showed up beautiful to get him out 2 weeks ago. The same office people who directed me to the holding cells is the one directing us upstairs to the fingerprinting place. Awesome.

I don’t think I made eye contact once in that entire building, BF grinned like a madman the entire time, failing to appreciate the forensic reversal – or maybe grinning because he appreciated it too much.

- Submitted by Drunken Debbie

Image via flickr NikWatt

We went to the restaurant next door after we finished our cake because they had killer margaritas. I had a couple of margaritas and decided I wanted to flaunt my ID so we went to a bar. I was excited to finally be able to hang out with my older friends and not get stuck at the door like before when the bouncer took one look at my young face and didn’t believe I had left my ID at home.

We went to the Raccoon Lodge on the Upper West Side. I was doing fine. I’d only had one sangria and maybe one margarita. I sat down at the bar and the bartender asked me what I wanted. I halfway drunkenly said “It’s myyyy birthdaaaaay!!” He said “Oh yeah let me see.” I gave him my ID and said “I’m twenty- oooooone!” He agreed with me and gave me a Malibu and coke for free. I decided I was done once I had finished it.

Somehow I lost my friends. There was a nice young couple sitting next to me and they started talking to me. I told them it was my 21^st birthday and they said “21^st birthday! 21 shots!” “Oooooohhhhhh no! I don’t do shots! But you can buy me a water!” They kept telling me they would buy me a shot. I said no, no but they wouldn’t listen. “Just one shot,” they begged. Then the guy ordered 3 Kamikazes. I’d never heard of a Kamikaze but there was a clear shot on the bar in front of me. I looked at the shot. I looked at the couple. I looked at the shot. I decided it was very small and it was my birthday. My 21^st birthday after all. So I took the shot. It surprisingly tasted good. I thanked them and almost falling off my bar stool went to find my friends before they insisted on buying me anymore.

I found my friends and about five minutes later I was finding the bathroom. I was so sick and so incredibly drunk all of the sudden. My roommate said I started puking as soon as P!nk’s started singing “Get This Party Started.” I got the party started all right and spent the remainder of my birthday weekend recovering in my bed. To this day I can’t listen to that song without getting nauseous.

- Submitted by Drunken Debbie

The first thing we did was go to Mr. B’s for barbecued      shrimp and anything else that would soak up the  massive amounts of alcohol that were in our near future.  Next we went to Pat O’Brian’s for hurricanes and boy  were they good! After our first round we noticed that the  cutest boys we had ever seen were sitting at the table next  to us. We started talking to them and they had very sexy  Cajun accents! We were enthralled and lost count of the  drinks they bought us. I didn’t realize how tipsy I was  until I stood up. I noticed I was a little dizzy but it was  time to hit the next place.

There was a Voodoo shop on the way to the club and we  had to check it out. We bought chicken feet but I have no  idea why. Finally we arrived at our destination, a dance club, aptly named Desire. We danced for hours waved our chicken feet in the air and continued to drink. The last thing I remember was that my Cajun boy pulled me into the men’s room and locked the door.  The next morning I noticed that the boring granny panties I wore the night before were missing. He kept my underwear and I wasn’t even wearing the cute ones!

- Submitted by Drunken Debbie

Image via flickr cooder70

The sake came next and we were all doing shots. I ended up having about 10 shots of sake in half an hour. It finally hit me and sitting at the table was no longer an option. I crawled off to a corner somewhere where I passed out.

My friends had a great time eating and drinking and didn’t realize the guest of honor was missing and possibly dead. After all the food had been eaten they brought out the birthday cake. They finally noticed I was no longer at the table and went looking for me. They found me fast asleep near the sushi bar. A couple of guys tried to hold me up and dragged me back to the table.

“We have to sing happy birthday and you have to blow out the candles so we can have some cake,” a well-meaning friend told me. “Then you can go back to sleep.”

“OoooooKkkkkkkkk,” I slurred as my eyes started to flutter closed.

We finally made it back to the table and two of my friends held me up over the cake as they sang Happy Birthday. Somehow I managed to pucker my lips together and get enough air to blow out the candles. They all started to clap and my friends let go of me. I hovered over the cake for a second or two and then promptly passed out, face first into the cake. Happy birthday indeed.

- Sumbitted by Wasted Willy

image via treehugger.com