What? What is one of the most interesting, insane, stupid, foolish, crazy, unbelieveable, kinky, illrational thing you’ve ever done whilest wasted?
Me, I’ve never been drunk. Not yet.
Once, I was so drunk (and I mean drunk) that, upon seeing an almost-full bottle of Everclear on the kitchen counter of the apartment at which I was partying, I chugged several good swallows of it before realizing that somebody had replaced the Everclear with water. I am eternally grateful to whoever did so, as that, combined with the massive amounts of alcohol I had already imbibed, would have been a certain trip to the emergency room, at the very least.
Took a nap on the sidewalk outside a club in Tarzana, after puking into the gutter adjacent. In a short skirt and heels.
Yes, I had a babysitter.
…woke up next to a pound of room temperature olive loaf that I had, according to the sticker on the wrapper, purchased at a nearby gas station.
To make matters worse, also according to the sticker, I had actually come home with two pounds.
Nashty. Extremely.
This one time me and a buddy got real drunk and decided to pay tribute to Fight Club by punching each other in his apartment’s parking lot. We were suffering the next day.
…shat in the bed of a pickup truck on a used car lot. While I did this, my best friend and binge partner stood watch in the middle of an intersection. He was kind enough to provide a wal-mart receipt to use for wipe under the stipulation that I return it to him - it had his name on it and didn’t want it left at the scene.
The kicker was when about a block and a half later I realized that I had been concentrating so hard on not falling in the truck and/or shitting on myself that I had pissed myself quite thoroughly in the process.
I don’t think I have ever laughed in my entire laugh as hard as I did that night, either at myself or someone else.
Define “irrational,” please!
Two things come to mind, but at least one didn’t seem irrational to me when it happened, nor later, after I sobered up, even though my ex would still swear that I must have been out of my flippin’ mind. In that case, I was in the process of breaking up with him. (By “in the process,” I mean that I broke up and he didn’t believe me.) He wouldn’t leave me alone, and showed up at my house one evening after I’d had a couple (too many) drinks. I left my house for a walk - since I was not safe to drive - and the (now) ex followed me. I lived a couple of blocks from the beach at the time, and chose to walk to the waterfront. (I knew that the beach was better-patrolled than my street, and my neighbors weren’t home.) The ex continued to follow, but I knew that he wouldn’t follow me into the water. When I started getting my feet wet, the ex grabbed me by the arm. I used my free hand to grab his toupee, and continued into the surf holding his hairpiece… I also knew that he’d go home, rather than remain in public for a long stretch without his 'piece. Still seems sensible to me, especially since I was wise enough to stay in the water until I spotted a local police officer, then made a dash for a waterfront bar that I frequented. I told the owner what was going on, and she refused entry to my ex, then insisted I spend the night at her house “just in case.”
The second “crazy” thing I did under the influence was to strip down to a g-string and pasties in a nightclub. Might not have seemed rational, but I made killer money that night, and graduated college without any student loans! (And, if I were still of the right age and body shape, I don’t know that I wouldn’t do that again – ego boost + good money + playing “dress-up” + dancing = happy me! Regardless of those who believe it’s demeaning, I enjoyed my dancing career.)
One time I was SO drunk, I was placed on disciplinary probation for two years. This was at a church college in the early 1960’s. I transferred to a university before my time was up.
Never did tell the Dean his daughter was with me at the road house.
Peed on a fire hydrant while shaking my leg on the way to a bar when I was visiting a friend at college.
One time I was so drunk I couldn’t feel my own face. Then I decided to go to the diner and get a sandwich, but I was having trouble aiming and ended up with lots of mayo on my numbed cheeks instead of in my mouth.
Anyway, about ten minutes after finishing the sandwich and paying the check, I promptly barfed up the entire sandwich out my bedroom window. Fortunately nobody was on the sidewalk below.
But it didn’t rain for four days after that.
Almost got myself knifed. A threesome and massive insecurity by the second party (as I was the third) could easily have resulted in several puncture wounds. Oddly enough, I slept on the same couch that night as the person who threatened me. Of course, I waited until I was pretty sure she was asleep first. Not that it would have done me much good if she’s woken up still pissed but…whatever. I’m still here.
Missed my wedding. Should have missed the second time as well.
One time I was SO drunk, I…had sex with a girl in the parking lot of the apartment complex of the party. With about 30 people milling about. Someone put a tip jar out.
Worst of all, when I went to her dorm to get my sweater the next morning, I realized she was dumb as a box of rocks.
I never drank 151 again.
… blew chunks. 
Got into a bar fight at Fort Benning (in those days they encouraged aggressiveness in Infantry lieutenants). I swear I damn near killed the guy with a urinal. I have NO idea what the fight was about. I still thank God he was not hurt nearly as badly as all the blood would have indicated.
How did I survive my youth?
… spent half an hour laughing about the “white Coke”, aka water in a Coca-Cola glass.
After initiation during my collegic football days we all went to a bar afterwards, already plastered. I simply passed out in a booth later in the night, one of my roomates urinated on a girl and was later arrested for defiling the sanctity of the state. The other did not care for a hat a girl was wearing so he poured a pitcher of beer over her. She was not pleased to say the least.
Ugh.
I just get weepy and hysterical and make a fool of myself.
Which is why alcohol is not my drug of choice. I prefer to be mellow, hungry, amused by wallpaper and in control of the situation, rather than depressed and vulnerable.
This happened at a party hosted by a friend, who was house/dog sitting for her cousin, out in the country.
I was depressed about a recent and horrible breakup with the “love of my life.” After downing several stout White Russians in a short time span, I went outside to have a cigarette and some fresh air. I started feeling pukey while walking through the front lawn, so I got down on all fours and sprayed White Russians and jambalaya all over the grass. This left me pretty exhausted, so I laid down. My friends managed to get me to crawl into the house. More puking, this time into the toilet. The host got me into her cousin’s bed & I passed out.
None of this is atypical. People get depressed and sloppy in front of their friends all the time. The noteworthy thing about my story is that when I was laying on the lawn, I somehow managed to pick up a tick. Which gave me ehrlichiosis, a cousin of Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. I spent a week in bed with a high fever, painful joints, and taking super antibiotics.
Haven’t gotten really drunk since then, and I can’t even smell Vanilla Stoli without gagging.
Happened to run into my mother and my ancient, vehemently anti-drinking grandfather. In another town! At 10am! On a Tuesday morning! Completely and utterly trashed out of my mind! My mother calmly said “Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to switch cars with me for a while, but I see you’re in no condition to drive,” and then helped me hide from my grandfather, who would have otherwise died of shame right there on the spot.
I’ve done all the usual things as well – peeing on public property, stealing large amounts of meat a la Grossbottom’s olive loaf, sex in front of cheering crowds, hitting on the wrong authority figures – but unexpectedly bumping into those family members during a mid-morning, mid-week, publicly drunken romp was, by far, the worst.