I never get stupid when I’m drunk. I get silly, and I giggle, and sometimes my balance is the worse for wear, but I just don’t have any cool stories. 
–Cliffy
One time I was so drunk, I decided to ask my boss about why I “wasn’t getting any.”
At an office party.
And replace the word, ‘ask’ with ‘shout at the top of my lungs and spill vodka on.’
One time I was so drunk, I … fell asleep. (sorry but that’s all I got)
One drink = mellow
Two drinks = very mellow and tired
Three drinks = asleep
Even drinking rum and cokes for the caffeine, I still fall asleep. Yeah, I’m boring, I know.
After drinking (&c, &c…) for the hour that it took to get to a ranch out in BFE, I talked a guy out of jumping off of a 45 foot cliff into a pool, then convinced myself that I was gutless if I didn’t do it. On the way down I remembered that I had broken my leg six months before, and had been off crutches for a week.
I didn’t break my leg, but my knee swelled up to the size of a cantalope. I managed to get to the surface and told a couple that I was drunk and had really messed up my leg and didn’t know if I could get out of the water. He said “eh, you’re drunk”, and they went back to making out. Somehow, I managed to get out of the water and climb back up to the party. Someone offered me a couple of aspirin and a water gun full of Vodka (thanks, Robin, wherever you are.) Other friends handed me whatever they had to drink (and smoke, &c., &c…) as the day turned to night.
At sunset, a friend walked by and gave a Mona Lisa-esque smile. At the time I was stuck by how beautiful her henna dyed hair was in the sunset. Years later, I remembered that I had been standing in the same spot for hours, without moving, and realized how utterly stupid I must have looked. I think she did the “walk by and grin” thing at least twice, maybe more.
A skinhead band took the stage around midnight. I looked around at the skins and several hundred hippie/punker types, in the country, miles from the authorities, and in my demented state I spent the next half hour waiting for the second coming of Altamont.
Sometime around four or five, I crawled into the backseat of a friend’s car. His drum set was already packed, so I wrapped my legs around the bass drum. It must have looked like I was strapped into an OB/GYN’s table, because at some point he opened the door to say “I can see the head, now… Push! Push!” A little while later, dawn started to break as the Hickoids broke into the theme song for Hee-Haw, and I knew that they were the next Rolling Stones.
Sometime since then, I finally sobered up.
It was also the last weekend that Ecstasy was legal in Texas, but I can honestly say that I didn’t have any of that.
…had a SECOND glass of Sangria.
Dang man, you were at Woodshock? I remember Chris the base player from the Big Boy’s telling stories about Woodshock (must have been Woodshock 1983 or 1984). Also I shared a ride from Davis to Sacramento with the Butthole Surfers so they could find the venue they were playing in that night - Gibby also got pretty animated with Woodshock Stories…
Wow, they heard about it in China!
Well, there were a few other people there, several hundred, plus enough bands that, with everyone doing fifteen minute sets, they played from noon until dawn. The whole thing started years before with one guy throwing a party at his mom’s ranch and it grew from there, keeping a very homegrown feel. It really felt like it was a campout for the entire Austin music scene.
'85 was the last show at the ranch. They rented a community park the next year. Then they tried to go back to the ranch the year after that, but Mom got wind of it a week before it was supposed to happen and demanded that her son come up with liability insurance (just in case a few hundred inebriated kids with spaghetti-colored mohawks got in trouble.) They couldn’t find a fool that sold insurance on such short notice, so the show was canceled. There have been Woodshocks since then, but they have been sponsored events, more like Lolapalooza than a monster campout.
Performed a striptease in the middle of a gay bar.
I had just lost 50 lbs and I looked really, really hot.
Unfortunately, no one gave a damn.
E.
Had sex with 28 year old married coworker, had sex with a really nasty whore two months later, climbed over a barbed wire fence and got stuck in the barbed wire causing me to fall about eight feet down the other side and bust my ass, then go in the back entrance to the bar and order shots of makers mark with blood all over me, gotten into countless fights, jumped down to another floor of a parking garage and could have easily fallen to my death, climbed twenty feet up a tree, slapped many innocent girls on their asses, chugged listerine, chugged everclear, passed out in various locations, destroyed some guys christmas tree and got in a fight with his curtain and lamp… :smack:
I fell asleep in front of a bar once. The police woke me up. I managed to stumble about three blocks uphill before taking a nap in front of a dorm (the field in front of DellPlain for any Syracuse dopers). An hour or so later I woke up feeling great and walked the rest of the way home where I promptly passed out again.
Then there was the time I pissed on a daycare center and got stopped by campus police. :smack:
I’m boring. No fights, drunken hook-ups, and we did the anal sex thing stone sober. Err… hey, what’s that!
:: Ninja smoke bombs out of thread ::
…woke up the next morning and couldn’t remember part of the drive home (very, very, very stupid thing to do). :smack:
At first also didn’t remember slamming my index finger in the door so hard that blood welled up under it & it fell off a few days later. The pain in my finger actually woke me up that morning - “Owwwww, WTF? How did this happen?”
Hit several Gay bars in one night in Berlin and met no one interesting…walking home and still drunk and horny, I went into a straight sex club. Watched a guy strip with a woman on stage and have sex. Afterwards, I told him it was hot watching him. We had more drinks and then went back to his place - a super huge, modern, expensive apartment. We went at it like animals for about an hour. After about three hours sleep, his alarm went off. We were both still loaded. He had to go to work. He was a Pan Am pilot and had a flight to Frankfurt in an hour. I watched him put on his uniform, we shared a taxi, he dropped me off at my place and went off the the airport. I have no idea how the hell he flew that plane that day, but didn’t hear of any crashes, so I guess it went ok.
I hear ya sister! 
One time I was so drunk at a wedding reception I started swearing at one of my parents’ friends during a debate (you know, over one of those topics that you aren’t really supposed to discuss at dinner parties. This is why) - which was rather embarassing for everyone else at the table (but not for her and myself, we were both smashed).
The last time I found myself “amused by wallpaper” I was at a friend of a friend’s house, and that friend happened to be French. I remember that everyone else fell asleep and I pulled a Stephen King novel, translated into French, off the bookshelf near the couch I was on, and was vastly entertained for 2 hours*, until my friend woke up and we drifted home. Much more civilised.
*And I neither like Stephen King nor am I able to read more than simple children’s books in French, normally.
A buddy and I were walking between a couple of college parties when the urge to pee struck. We found a tree in some guy’s front yard and started peeing, careful to not hit each other. Just then the owner of the house pulled into his driveway and shined his lights on us and started screaming to stop peeing in his yard. My buddy and I took off running, dicks swinging, covering our pants with piss.
I’ve played drunken strip poker many, many times. Sometimes I get down to my jockey shorts, sometimes I kick ass and get to look at boobies. My favorite game was at a friend’s apartment after her party had died down. We had lots of hunch punch and most of a keg of Miller left, so about a dozen of us decided to just get batslammed and play cards.
We have a good repetoire of games like Ratscrew, Fuck You (Pyramid of Pain), blah blah. We decide to play strip poker as the women are well-endowed and willing.
Now. Whenever we play cards, it involves fast drinking. Normally my bladder can hold a tremendous amount (I can pee for almost two minutes straight in the morning). But during these contests I break the seal and run for the bathroom several times per game. And, of course, my friends being enormous assholes, they decide to mess with all the cards and screw me over. They do this less frequently now that they’ve seen me turn into a belligerent fucking argonaut after chugging beers 13, 14, and 15 conesecutively.
However. During this particular round of strip poker I go to the bathroom. I come out and the hand is dealt. I didn’t know that while I was pissing my roommate was changing the cards so that my hand would suck righteous ass. It comes time to draw new cards and I figured “What the heck,” and kept a 3, a 4 and a 7.
I won that hand with two pair, 3s and 4s. I lost my shoes and socks in that game. I saw lots of beautiful, beautiful boobies. And I got to see the look on my roommates face when he found out the shitty cards he slipped me won the hand. Ahh, good times, good times.
Just last night, at a Toby Keith concert where I was fucked upper than shit, I was so drunk that I publicly urinated w/ a German-teaching friend whilst singing Beethoven’s Ode to Joy. In retrospect, it is amusing that we didn’t stand out in the crowd for doing it.
I was working in Zermatt as a teenager - days of working and skiing - nights of drinking and … err more drinking. One night I was so drunk I dived off a second floor balcony onto a group of friends below. Fortunately they were all so drunk they just stood and gawped as I came crashing down on them. Even now my blood chills when I think what would have happened If they had just had the presence of mind to simply step out of the way !
My brother was sooo drunk that late one night he broke a window of an off licence (English liquor store) to get some more booze. Not a little window round the back - but an 8 foot by 16 foot plate glass window at the front! The police found him sitting in a pile of broken glass guzzling beer before taking him down to the station for a thorough beating.