Have you ever been so drunk that....

…you’ve forgotten what you did the night before?

Well, it happened to me again. I went to the Vikes games yesterday and now I can’t remember how I got home.

The last thing I remember is being at a strip bar. Kinda different. But I woke up around 1:00 A.M. laying on my couch. I have no clue how I ended up that way.

Not all that bad, I’ll assume, but what’s happened to you?

Well one of the times I blacked out was at a Queen Concert at Slane Castle . I woke up on my own , face down in the grass/mud . I later found out from my friend what I got up to. It’s too embassasing to go into but it included me being kicked in the 'nads (quite rightly so btw) :o. So I’m glad I can’t remember.

Embarrassing Embarrassing Embarrassing :o

Last saturday night I was at a party, got blindingly drunk and embarrassingly passed out, spread-eagle, undies-flashing, on the barbeque. The guys walking past didn’t mind at all, and I didn’t realise I’d done this until someone slapped me awake. Ugh, shameful, shameful. That’s not all I did that was bad that night, but I won’t go there right now.

It’s not an event, it’s a lifestyle. You get used to it. “Missing time?” bah. It’s just the alcohol workin it’s yummy magic.

Seriously, though, yes. Not hours or days or anything, but like, 30 minute gaps here and there, or very foggy, vague recollection of what happened.

Only passed out a few times, though. Usually fall asleep before I get THAT drunk.

–Tim

Come on people!!! Spill the beans. It’s not like were gonna hunt you down or anything!

EXPLAIN!!!

What’s the worst thing that’s happened?

I’ll post my own worst experience later in the day, I’m still a bit woosy right now.

I wanna hear some bad stuff here!

So far, Broken Doll, is in the lead.

Okay, Cnote. St. Patrick’s day drinking binge. I start drinking at about 2:30. I drink 2 fifths of Sour Apple Puckers, 1/2 dozen Bud Lights, a handful of Two Dog Lemons, chug a HELL of alot of Rum, and that’s all I remember. About 8pm, I pass out on my friend’s bed. I wake up about 8:30 with “Cock Hungry” and “Penis Eater” and other such things scrawled on my face in green marker. I feebly wrestle the marker from the offender. Pass out again. Wake up at 8:45 or so and get in a yelling argument with a friend over who has a bigger penis. This is completely out of nowhere. Manage to wander out into the hall and hit on a girl in one of my classes. Stumble back into the dorm room, pass out on bed again. 9:15ish. Campus Police show up because there’s about 25 of us drunk. Everyone clears out. I vomit a garish bright orange SOMETHING on my friend’s bed. Two girls help me walk to the dorm showers. I shower, using soap and shampoo I find in the bathroom, just sitting there. I am given clothes by girls, and as the shower has woken me up some, I am guided upstairs to their room. I attempt to watch “Blue Streak” but can’t pay attention. I write poems on her fridge in magnet words. I rub my ass on the girls, individually, and in tandem. They force me to do impressions. I do impressions of “The Chipmunk” (think Uncle Joey), Kermit the Frog, Harry Carey, Elmo, and a few more embarrassing ones. I finally fall asleep somewhere around 12.

I wake up the next morning to find that about 20 pictures of me in various states of undress, posed in various ways, being touched by various people, and handcuffed to various objects, have been posted on the internet.

Okay?

:smiley:

–Tim

The pictures have since been removed, smart guy! :slight_smile:

PS, the poems were dual. One was a haiku about salami, the other a stanza on the merits of cheese.

–Tim

Alright Homer!

Now that’s what I’m after.

Something bad, something you want to forget, but can’t.

Like I said, I’ll post my own later today. I’m in simple sentence mode right now.

I wanna here from people what they’ve done when drunk. All nastiness accepted.

Sorry Broken Doll, Homer has taken the lead.

Unless, of course, you decide to tell us what happened to you after you fell asleep on the grill.

C’mon, were grown ups here.

My first story isn’t cool or anything, it’s just something that happened while under the influence of alcohol.

It was my birthday last February. We were sitting around playing drinking games, waterfalls, all that. All’s going well and everyone’s having a good time. Ah, it was the waterfalls that got me. The last thing I remember, it was still daylight. I woke up at about 5 o’clock the next evening in the hospital. Twelve bottles or Rolling Rock, half a dozen bottles of Boone’s Farm wine, a few fuzzy navels, a screwdriver or four. The list goes on. Apparently, I crashed my own party at about 7:30PM.

This one I’d like to forget.

Tequila. Oh sweet tequila. I would say about a week ago, I was at my mom and dad’s house with my brother and sister. My parents were out of town so we had a little bash. (Little = no more than 6 people.) I know for a fact it was fun. Whatever it was, it was probably the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Ingredients? Rum and cokes and tequila shots.

My sister says that my brother cranked up Christina Aguilera’s “Genie In A Bottle” and we were both singing and dancing along with the music. Me? That’s not so strange. My brother? My brother knew every word and is, apparently, a very good dancer. :smiley: For the first time IRL, I voiced my attraction to the female body. (Oops! LoL) According to her, I got my sister to do tequila shots. (“Ewww!! Tequila? I’m not drinking that!” Hehehe.) I don’t remember actually lying down to go to sleep. Ah, family bonding. :slight_smile: That “Genie In A Bottle” part leads me to believe I had a very good time. I don’t think I’m the only one either.

This one, I wish I could remember.

Sometime in 1998. I believe it was late spring, early summer. Ingredients? Beer. Lots and lots of beer and one pint peach schnapps. So I was at my friend’s house. There was three of us; myself, my friend and a mutual friend of ours. We drank the schnapps first, passing the bottle between us and gossiping like 16-17 year old girls do. When the schnapps was gone, we grabbed the beer and transported it out to the hot tub. We sat in the hot tub for an hour or so, drinking beer and relaxing. Do not drink beer in hot tubs! I’m telling you, I didn’t realize how drunk I was until I got out. I don’t think any of us did.

So we get out of the hot tub and go into the house to change into dry clothes. We sat back down on the couch and finished up the beer. It started raining a bit. We, being the giggly, crazy, drunk adolescent girls that we were, decided it would be so fun to go outside in the rain. Then it would be so much fun to run around in the puddles like little kids do. Fine and dandy, we didn’t care. But what sounds even more fun then simply running through the puddles in front of the house? How about pulling your shirts over your heads and running up and down the street? Incidently, we weren’t exactly quiet about it. Laughing loudly, we ran up and down the street a few times. About our fourth time down, on the way back, my friend’s younger brother and a few of his friends decide to show up. Yes, there are pictures. I’m not sure where they are though.

This one is forever stuck in my brain. Why? Because other people remember it too. :slight_smile:

…okay, I’ll spill what else happened.
After waking up from the barbeque, a friend came running out of the house to tell me that my best friend had been kissing some guy, so I bolted drunkenly into the house, punched the guy in the face, started abusing him about my friend being “My bitch” and so forth in front of the whole party, the guy appologised and I ran outside to cry my eyes out. Man, the things I do when drunk.

Used to be a common occurence.

I woke up next to naked women I can only assume I had sex with. I woke up in neighboring states. I woke up in custody. From what I’ve been told, I’m kinda glad I don’t remember.

…so what are all y’all doing remembering these things?!

In college, I was the VP of the ski club. We used to have meetings in a bar, then we got back on campus so we had our meetings in a class room…then went to the bar. $25 a year and every Wednesday you got free beer and pizza. We were actually sponsored by a beer distributor for a few years, which made the drives out to Colorado a whole lot of fun.

To the point: I can say, with a great deal of certainty, that I do not remember getting home for all but a handful of Wednesdays of my senior year. Luckily, it was a short 10 blocks from south campus to my apartment, so I always walked. I remember going to the meetings, going to the bar, meeting people and having a good time, then…it’s morning, I’m home, my contacts are neatly put away and my clothes are hung up to “de-smoke.”

There was also a few parties in my more sophomoric days where I would start drinking around 4 or 5 in the afternoon and finish when my liter of Capt. Morgans was done. In one instance, I remember being led up to my room by a friends roommate, then waking up the next day to find a few used condoms in the trash (no whiskey dick here). I wish I could have remembered that one, the other girls in her suite (there were 8 to a suite in those days) looked at me differently from that day on. It was a good thing, I just wish I knew what it was I had done!

Let’s see, I’m sure there are more, but, well, you see, I just don’t recall!

As for forgetting what happens…

Once when I was in Leeds I drank a great amount of Jack Daniel’s in celebrating exams. The next thing I remember was waking up in bed with my shoes on. Later, I was told that I had puked all over someone else’s floor, seconds after I passed out.

I don’t want to be too graphic here, but…I shouldn’t have had that jacket potato with cheese and coleslaw before I started drinking…

All I can say is, thank God I didn’t remember doing that. One of my friends described it as “that scene from Alien.”

Homer, I want a url, really, give me a website.

I had lots of blackouts in college, after all what is college for but blackouts ? But my worst story by far has to be a big bash that I threw in high school. I had meant to stay relatively sober, after all it was my (parents) place and I wanted to make sure nothing bad happened. Then my girlfriend and I got into a huge fight and I decided the best way to deal with it would be to finish off about a fifth of Southern Comfort by myself. I stumbled off to pass out in my room, door locked. The problem ? I was the self-appointed “key master”. I had passed out in a locked room with everyones car keys.

So - did I have lots of very angry friends to deal with the next day ? No . . . I had a very broken bedroom door. They didn’t pick the lock, they just busted the damn thing down. I remember nothing of it. Learned a lesson - I should never be “key master”. BTW, I cannot even smell SoCo without wanting to vomit. Ugh.

  • NM

Duke reminded me of another fact I learned about alcohol.

If you drink two bottles of red wine and eat fruity pebbles you will puke in technicolor !

I am not lying man, it wasn’t a post vomit toliet bowl - it was ART !!

:smiley:

  • NM

I’m in Greece, I’m 21, I’m on the ultimate party island (Ios), I’ve got more money and more self confidence than is good for me. (This is back in '87)

I remember drinking tequila shots. <discountinuity> I wake up on the steps in front of the local doctor. I can’t see anything with my left eye. I CAN see with my right eye, and what I see is a lot of blood all over my clothes. Using both hands, I can move the swelling far enough to look out of my left eye as well. I feel a bing bandage at my left temple.

Right, what has happened is this (pieced together from eyewitnesses, I don’t remember a thing) : I’ve fallen sidewards with my bar chair and hit the bottom step of a stone staircase. I’m out cold, bleeding like a pig. My British drinking pal tries to distribute some first aid when the police arrives. They see one bleeding tourist (me) and another tourist with blood all over him (British drinking pal) and decide that he must be guilty of something, so they start beating him up with their batons (I saw the marks on his back - nasty!). A bunch of Canadians decide to interfere (thanks, fellas) and the Greek police decides on a tactical withdrawal. The Canadians (thanks, fellas) get me to the local doctor, who stitches me up. The Canadians apparently thought I was in good hands, but the doctor doesn’t want me stinking up his clinic, so lays me on the front stairs with a blanket.

And that’s where I regain consciousness.

I don’t know what was worst: The three-day hangover/mild concussion (NOT fun!) - the humiliation of making such a spectacle of myself and being in such enormous debt of gratitude to so many people - or, that when I was well enough to travel, we immediately left for Athens where we met another Canadian backpacker who knew the entire disgusting story and was happy to meet the “celebrity”.

Never again!

S. Norman

O.K.

Now it’s starting to pick up.

Seing as I’m getting shit about it, I meant, or should have said, "Times you’ve blacked out and had other people tell you what has happened. Not Necessarily what you remember. However, those are welcome too.

I’m still foggy about my day yesterday, so’ I’m gonna wait until later to call my friend to see what all I did who I may have embarrassed.

My own experience is still on the way, and it’s bad.

Remember or not, what’s your worst experience drunk?

Let’s see… I did most of my drinking at my own house, so I don’t have too many tales of public embarrassment, although there was one time I was too drunk to feel how close my hand was to the heater and woke up the next morning with a nasty burn across the back of my fingers.

Ok, there was one night I went out drinking in Tokyo with a non-drinking friend. I was seriously wasted by the time we decided to go home. Apparently, my friend got bored escorting home a drunk, so he decided to have some fun with me. I don’t remember what he said to me, but he told me later what I did.

So, to the people of Tokyo, if, sometime in 1997, you encountered a tall, red-haired foreigner hopping around Shibuya station on one foot and shouting in a fake Scottish accent, that was me. Sorry.

I also had to get off the train a couple of times to puke (didn’t quite make it off the train one time, though), but I see that happen to other people often enough that I don’t feel embarrassed about doing it myself.

–sublight.