There is a big party in fall every year for the Wall Street set. A bunch of people in my department at work were going and they invited me. I got all dressed up and was excited to meet some new people. I got to the party a little late but people were already having a good time. I found my friends and then the open bar. My friends and I started dancing and the drinks kept flowing. I met a guy from my company and we ended up dancing and drinking the night away. I got really drunk. Open bars and dancing don’t mix well for me. We got a cab and he was going to deep me off at home. I was drunk but not that drunk. Our cab driver decided to stop at a gas station and my friend got out. To get a drink. The cab driver gets. Back in the car and we were waiting for my new friend. I started to feel sick so I casually opened the door and let it all out. Then I felt fine. The cab driver of course got angry and kicked me out. I tried to tell him I was fine but he wouldn’t listen. So there I was standing outside of the gas station all dressed up and no one to take me home. My new friend finally came out and asked me where the cab was. We finally found another one and I made my way home.

The next morning I was so hung over. I’d never felt so bad in my entire life. I wasn’t the only one. You could hear the moans and the “Did I really drink that much? Why did I do that?” all day. Thankfully it was a Friday and we had the weekend to recover.

Submitted by Drunken Debbie

Image via Dealbreaker

I dated a stupid frat boy for about five minutes when I was in college. He was a jerk and dumped me in front of everyone at a stupid frat party. I was clearly upset. My roommate tried to console with me a bottle of vodka one night shortly after the incident. After said bottle, we decided to go mess with him. I knew he would be watching Sports Center with his little frat friends on the ground floor of the frat house so we decided to go tap on the window and try to scare them.

We got to the house and sure enough they were sitting there glued to the TV. We tried not to laugh as I walked up to the window and started to tap on the glass. They didn’t hear me so I tapped a little harder until my entire hand went through the window. They were startled for sure but mostly at my idiocy and drunkenness. I ended up in the hospital with five stitches, a big scar and a bill from the frat house to fix the window.

Word to the wise: If a guy dumps you by all means get drunk but don’t go looking for him afterward.

- Submitted by Drunken Debbie

Image via flickr wesfrazer

Leaving the rest up to your imagination. And at the bottom of a bottle of Maker’s Mark.

(images via Opium Museum Flickr)

I went to a friends housewarming party one night. I had about 5 jello shots and two margaritas when I found a piñata shaped like a dog in their garage. I decided to take it for a walk outside. I was staggering down the street dragging my fake dog when I happened upon another drunk carrying a full sheet cake he had stolen from his party. He saw my piñata and we struck up a conversation. For some reason we decided to stuff the cake piece by piece into the piñata. We snuck into an open garage and stole a mop. Then we hung the piñata from a tree and beat it until we were covered in frosting. One of my friends found us asleep under the tree the next morning with dried frosting all over us. To this day, I can’t eat cake.

- Submitted by Drunken Debbie

Image via Flickr compton_830

Check out this video from WEAU News about one such Santa: Drunk Santa Scares Kids Congratulations Drunk Santa! You are our Wasted of the Week!

It takes a lot of guts to walk home the next morning with a penis drawn on your face. But it takes a lot more guts to walk around sober with a penis drawn on your face. Congratulations “Passed Out at the Party” you are our Wasted of the Week!

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

Day One- Since getting laid off (okay it’s been six months now), life has been a cycle of drinking, boys, hangover, and Seamless.

Day Two- 1PM:  Wake up and remember nothing about the night. I think I brought someone home though not really sure because he’s not there in the morning. I almost want to ask my doorman if I came home alone last night, but I make the executive decision not to.

1 AM: We all head to Marquee, where I catch the eye of a handsome boy in an Hermès tie and immediately start eye-BJ-ing him. He is a 28-year-old M.D. who graduated from Yale. He buys me SoCo-lime shots and I tell him that 28 years old is too young to be an M.D. He responds that he’s just that good. His friends back him up. (They go back to his place and hook up)

Day Three- 8 AM:  He freaks out and asks me to leave. I angrily storm out and the doorman asks me if I was with the twins last night. I say their little brother and he laughs. When I get home, I look him up on Facebook and see that he graduated HIGH SCHOOL in 2009. He is 17 YEARS OLD and it was his parents’ penthouse in the city.

Day Four- 1 AM: Run into an ex-hookup who introduces me to his two best friends. I realize that I have hooked up with both of his friends at previous times and that I met them all at the same bar months ago. We awkwardly explain that we all know each other. How did NYC become like college??

Day Five: 3 AM.: Drunk and horny, I send a mass text to all of my hookups asking what they are doing tonight. An old Morgan intern friend turned hookup responds and we plan to meet at his.

Day Seven: 8 AM: Do the walk of shame home from the Boat Basin and kind of over it all. Remember that I actually used to be smart and care about other things in my life. Make a mental note to read the newspaper today and perhaps even try to find a job.

You can read the diary in it’s entirety here.

Via nymag.com

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