I have to travel a lot for business with my co-workers. My boss is very reserved and quiet. She likes to go to dinner with us but she never goes crazy or drinks very much. That is until we got to Vegas. We were all having dinner at the Bellagio and I had a very large margarita on the table. It had been sitting there unattended for about 10 minutes and then out of nowhere my boss said “Are you gonna drink that?” Before I could answer she had chugged it down. It wasn’t long before she got crazy. She was running around the hotel kissing people and putting flowers in their hair. She was drinking everything in sight and starting to take off her clothes. “I feel so freeeeeeeeee!” she said as she ran out into the middle of traffic on Las Vegas Boulevard. We had to run after her grabbing her clothes as she threw them off and dodged the cars. We finally dragged her back to the hotel and got her covered up before depositing her into her hotel room. We went to dinner again the next night and she barely said 5 words. I don’t think we’ll be having that problem again anytime soon. Really, what is it about Vegas that makes normal people so crazy?

- Submitted by Wasted Willy

Image via Flickr karl151k

via Post Rejects

It was late and my fiancé and I were drunk so my friend who doesn’t drink got his brand new rental car to drive us home. My fiancé was sitting up front and out of nowhere he started puking all over the console of the brand new car. My friend had to pull over so he could clean it up but by the time we pulled over he started puking himself. What a mess and guess who got to clean it up? I still call my now husband Pukey Brewster to this day. No more Kool Aid and vodka!

(707):

We just got really drunk and bought toilet paper. Successful Monday.

(317):

I’ve got 15 minutes to eat dinner and drink a 40. Four years of college has all been training for this moment.

(970):

Just had to explain my “wine me. Dine me. Sixty-nine me” key chain to my grandma…she took it surprisingly well.

I went on three great dates with a guy, and then he disappeared. Now, three months later, he called me. What should I do?
Well do you not know, to a certainty, he was not in another country? I feel like that’s a pretty obvious response to: “I haven’t heard from you in three months.”

But he wouldn’t have mentioned that?
Some things are pretty spontaneous. It’s hard to understand — what if he’s a musician?

What?
If he’s a musician and all of a sudden his band got signed and he wasn’t that into you, why is he going to reference the fact that he’s leaving for New Zealand in two days?

You have a very bad imagination.
My imagination stopped at age eleven.

Read more at Nerve.

Former Russian president Boris Yeltsin got so drunk during a visit to Washington that he was found standing outside the White House in his underpants trying to hail a cab to go and buy a pizza.
The following night he was mistaken for a drunken intruder when he was discovered stumbling around the basement of his guest house by secret service agents.
The drunken behaviour of Yeltsin, who was known for his fondness for vodka and died two years ago aged 76, were revealed by former US president Bill Clinton.
Mr. Clinton told how he was briefed by secret service after they found Yeltsin standing outside the building dressed in his underwear trying to hail a taxi.
In a slurred speech he told the agents he wanted a pizza.
The following night he eluded his Russian bodyguards to climb out of Blair House into the basement where he was initially mistaken for an intruder.

Now that’s what I call a good crackoutblackout night!

(via Daily Mail.co.uk)

I woke up this one morning with the words “ginger amy” scrawled in pen on the back of my hand. “What did I do last night?” I wondered to myself. I remember going out with a bunch of friends to a bar and we did some bar hopping.

As I’m struggling to regain the memories and gain a clear head, my phone beeps that I have a text message. I sit up in bed to reach for it and notice something odd…I have a different shirt on than the one I went out in. How is that possible…I didn’t bring anyone home last night, did I? The texts from my friends are pouring in asking what happened to me. I text back that I didn’t know and asked them to recount the nights events.

“We were doing Lemon Drop shots and you started chatting up this girl for a long time.” “You were really hitting it off.” “It looked like you switched teams.” “I would not condone it…and I would watch.” Yes, my guy friends can be kind of crude. Then my phone lights up: 1 new message from Ginger Amy. It says, “Are you Whiskey Kim and do you have my shirt?”

It all starts coming back to me. I remember seeing this gorgeous girl and loved her shirt. I apparently loved it so much that I suggested we switch shirts right there in the bar. And she obliged! We were really hitting it off throughout the night that my friends left me and Ginger Amy at the bar and went onto the next one without me being any the wiser.

We kept texting thru out the whole next day. “Are we in love?” I asked her. “I think so!” I did see her the next weekend so we could give each other’s shirts back. Let me just say that there were no beer goggles that night: she is super gorg. The good news is I can still pull in the talent with my pick-up technique.

~submitted by Drunken Debbie

I got black out drunk after working catering in NYC. It took me weeks to find it all out, but I got on the train to go home, and got off a stop before i was supposed to. So I was staggering home in the middle of a snowstorm when I guess I got hot. So I took off my pants. So I’m walking down the street dressed in black dress shoes, black dress socks, boxers, and a big puffy coat. In the distance I thought I made out the form of a taxi cab so I hailed it down. the cop pulled over. He actually ended up driving me home and told my mom that my drunk pantlesss ass was the funniest thing he’s seen in awhile and that is the reason I wasn’t arrested. I still don’t know where the pants went.

~submitted by Wasted Willy (via When I Was Drunk)