What’s the drunkest or most stoned you’ve ver been? I have never passed out, but I once drank so much I threw up about 8 separate times. Another time I found myself in a house with a scary Vietnam vet who wouldn’t let anyone leave. He kept rolling powerful joint after powerful joint. Finally he had to go to the bathroom and several of us bolted. I was by then so stoned that I forgot what town I was in. It was the middle of the night, blizarding and I kept driving around in hopes of seeing some landmark that would trigger some recognition. At last I saw a bridge I remembered. I went across it and things started looking more familiar. Finally I remembered where I lived and even how to get there.
I have blackout drunks several times, though not within the past 15 years.
By the way, you wouldn’t be able to get any of that weed your vet acquaintace had, would you?
On my first date with my former husband,we went to a bar. Well. I had 3 glasses of red wine. Mistake. I started to walk into the men’s room,then stayed seated in the womens room a looong time(just to make sure)! Then,when we left,he said I knocked all the stools down by the bar as I passed by. Then,we got home,I fell face forward onto the bed,with my contacts on. Must’ve woken up during the night to take them out(thank God). Next morning,I felt perfectly fine.
'fraid not. If I could it would be about 15 years old and would probably have lost its potency.
well,folks, i have a few. but the one that probably takes the cake(and should probably be in the most embarassing thread),goes like this:
I had recently moved to a small town in central PA from NJ(born and bred). Making new friends, hanging out, etc. So, it’s a Saturday night and my newly aquired buddies decide to go to the local hot spot, ‘ok let’s go.’ I had already had a few bong hits and a couple beers. Shots and beer abound at the bar. I walked in the men’s room and casually had a conversation with a friend(actually, even though i was smashed, i didn’t think much of that anyway as most of the clubs i frequent in NYC have unisex bathrooms)
I think I almost fell over a few times and clung to strangers for dear life. OK now to the worst part. They decide to continue the boozefest back at their place. OK, count me in. A few more bong hits and beer(actually I am not sure of anything at this point) I need to use the bathroom(that’s the last thing I remember up until waking up)
I don’t want to be too graphic here, but apparently I passed out on the john while in the midst of doing an unspeakable act and must have fallen onto the floor. So there i was in a little black shirt,black mini skirt, knee high plastic go-go boots, my undies around my knees, and a big ol’ stinkin mess all around me. Upon waking up, i was thoroughly confused, screamed, stripped and jumped in the shower. (I took 2 more the next morning and still didn’t feel quite right) There’s a little more to the story but i’ll stop here. Let’s just say I was definately shit-faced and I had one shitty night.
so you found a girl who thinks really deep thoughts. what’s so amazing about really deep thoughts? Tori Amos
I’m thinking tonight is the night I will experience my ‘most fucked-upness’ since I started college. The guys across the street from me are have a 3-kegger startin’ in a couple hours. But my worst time ever was at a labor day party, I went to the party and literally sat by the keg all night. I finally moved when a fight was about to break out and I decided didn’t want to join so i moved. When I moved I ended up by this one chick who had some killer pot. We ended up smoking it (after I had about 10 beers) which I admit wasn’t the smartest thing. About a a half hour later I started puking. I puked in a bush, on a car, in 2 bathrooms and ended up having dry heaves on a couch before I passed out. Some of the people i met at the party call me Mr. Pukey now. Something I dont’ really care for…
“I’m not dumb. I just have a command of thoroughly useless information.”-- Calvin and Hobbes
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Man…there have been too many to explain them all but here’s some of my lowlights.
Ummm, hot tubbing in 10 degree weather? (I never hot tub I itch for days with those chemicals)
Ummm, hitting on my best friend — I am straight, but it seemed like the thing to do, she’s a she and so am I.
Ummm, grabbing this cute guy,literally out of the crowd. Hey beer makes many people prettier than they really are.
Ummm, waking up the next morning after a drinking binge to a nasty wound on my arm and I still don’t know how it got there (still scarred from that one)
Ummm, puking all over myself after a hit off a bong. Sat there for a minute and my friend busts out laughing because I didn’t even respond to the fact I just puked on my shoulder.
Ummm, 8th grade, my friend and I drank vodka and Hawiian Punch we sat together taking turns puking in the toilet.
Ummm, shall I go on? I have many many things…some of these are tame, but no need to get real funky in here.
In high school… curfew was always a bone of contention… one night i way way over drank and my friends put me in the back door, rang the bell and ran like hell…good thing my dad was home…he snuck me downstairs and put me to bed before mom the curfew queen figured out what was going on… i thought i was gonna die the next day… last year’s xmas party was great too… from what i can remember!
course there was that time…
Was selling magazines door-to-door across the country for a summer while a youth.
Celebrated a good day by buying a bottle of Absolut - the 100 proof red label - and some OJ.
Drank it all in like five minutes because I wwas afraid thet the people who shared my room would steal it if I didn’t. Bad mistake…
I was the life of the party for five minutes. At that point, everything started to get hazy. We were going to the NJ State Fair. I didn’t ever get out of the van. All I remember is vomitting all over the back of the van and myself, hearing people in the front saying things like, “He’s doing it again…”
I woke up the next day somehow in my hotel room bed. Really woozy. My stomache was sensitive, and I spit up black, but my head was fine.
I was never a drinker, but about a year after my husband died I started going out after work with friends. I was in my late 40’s and this was all new to me, and a hell of a good time besides.
I carried on like this for about 2 years, til I met my current husband.
One night I came home (big house, lived alone), went upstairs, took a wrong turn, ended up in the closet of an extra bedroom and couldn’t find the door to get out. Puked on the floor. Sat down in the closet and napped til daylight.
The other best time was after a few tokes (do they still say that?), I got on the phone to work and left phone mail messages that were nothing but giggles. One of the lucky recipients saved her recording and replayed it whenever she needed a laugh.
All in all, I had more good times than bad, but I’m glad I don’t do it anymore.
Let’s see now…
There was the time my ex-girlfriend, her best friend, and I went out for my ex’s birthday. She really wanted to party somewhere, but it was a Monday, and we really couldn’t go anywhere and just drink. It had to be at a club.
We wound up at a club called Shelter. We were the only customers there. We started drinking, and eventually the bored bartender started making us custom drinks.
I remember one was bright purple.
I remember deciding to lie down on the bench at the table, and missing.
I remember puking right in the middle of the dance floor on the way to the bathroom.
When I stumbled home, supported by my ex, my brother was still up. He took a long look at me and asked what was on my face.
“R” replied “Ummm…the floor?”
You say “cheesy” like that’s a BAD thing.
This thread details exactly why I have never done any of those things.
“To me, socks are like sex. Tons of it about, and I don’t seem to get any.”
Company Xmas party, 3 Tanquerey & tonics… next to local watering hole 3 (or more??) Tanquerey & tonics (the amount of tonic at this point is near non-existant). I remember putting 2 or 3 dollars in the jukebox and picking the 10 or so songs, but don’t remember anything after the second. Next thing I know I’m leaning with my head over the edge of the bed puking violently into the general direction of the trashcan while my fiancee mopped the floor old towels. I remember thinking “oh, better get out of my good clothes and into pj’s” and being astounded and terrified to realise that had already taken place. The idea that I had been wrestled out of a floor-length velvet turtleneck gown, and girdle with stockings attached without my knowledge was a disturbing one. I’m not even going to go into how I felt the next day. Usually I’m a pretty moderate drinker and know enough to eat and take in plenty of non-alcholic fluids so I was truly unprepared for a pure alcohol hangover. I’ve been tipsy, drunk and blotto since but never to that extent and I can’t say I’m anxious to repeat the experience.
Two occasions, both birthdays, come to mind. My 20th birthday, we had this rip-roaring party. My friend Matt made a pitcher of kamikaze shots. Everyone had one, and then I started carrying the pitcher around with me. People came up to me and said “It’s your birthday, have another shot!” So I would. In an hour, I had maybe 12 or 13 shots. This was before the party even really started. I remember the first few guests showing up, and like Satan, I was the life of the party for those first few minutes. Then I suddenly started not feeling so well, went upstairs, puked a few times…someone got me a giant glass of water, and I sat on my computer (which was maybe five feet away from the bathroom) drinking it and talking online until 3 in the morning when I finally sobered up enough to go to sleep without worrying about pulling a Jimi Hendrix. This story isn’t intentionally vague, though…I really don’t remember much of what happened. The next time I checked the pockets of the jeans I had on that night, I had a business card from a guy named Saber. I just don’t remember Saber. You’d think I would.
And then, my 21st birthday. Didn’t drink as much, but my friend Elif and her boyfriend were in town from Pittsburgh, and had brought some killer pot. I drank enough to start feeling kinda sick, and then, between Matt, Elif, her boyfriend, and I, we split about 5 bowls. Needless to say, that killed the nausea. It also turned me into a complete giggling idiot. Matt and I ended up on the couch inside, telling lame jokes. The best one was as follows:
Guy walks into a bar and asks, “Does anyone in here own a 6-foot penguin?”
Everyone looks at him strangely.
“Oh shit!” he says. “I think I just ran over a nun!”
Incredibly stupid, yes. Here’s how it went with us.
Me: Guy walks into a bar and asks “Does anyone here own a six-foot nun?”
Matt: Oh, shit, I just ran over a penguin!
Both of us: Wait…we just fucked that up, didn’t we?
Mind you, none of this is really that funny. But nobody could have convinced us of that at the time. We were in tears, we were laughing so hard. I still laugh now every time I remember it. People were walking in the room, staring at us rolling around on the floor, holding one another and laughing, and they’d just shake their heads and walk right back out.
I guess I’m just a fun drunk, because I’ve never really been that sick or obnoxious.
My sophomore year of college, some friends threw a party at their off campus apartment. Those of us who were underage sent an older acquaintance to the state store to shop. I had him pick me up a bottle of Jack Daniels black label.
I had just gone through a really bad breakup, so I was drinking heavily. I started at the party drinkin Jack & Coke. Well, we ran out of coke, so I had Jack and water, then just straight Jack. When I finished off the bottle, I started on the Everclear-and-Hi-C punch in the kitchen, then had a few beers.
I literally only remember the night intermittently. I passed out, face down on the carpet, and started throwing up. My roommate got me to the bathroom, and I threw up some more, then went on a crying jag. He drove me back to our dorm, where I passed out again. I awoke about 6:00 a.m., and had to throw up, so I went down the hall to the bathroom. There, I passed out for two more hours with my face against the toilet seat.
That day, I was scheduled to participate in our annual fraternity swimathon to raise money for LifeBanc, the organ donation group. I was dehydrated, sore and tired, but I put on a pair of fins, grabbed a paddle board, and pathetically swam 100 laps in a half-Olympic pool.
There were other times that were close, but that was the absolute worst. I still drink, but I’ve never been drunk since.
“I love God! He’s so deliciously evil!” - Stewie Griffin, Family Guy
The absolute worst fool-ass drunk I’ve ever been had to have been the first time I drank. I was about 15 and had gotten a mickey of vodka and some 7-up. I had a big glass of that and didn’t think I was “getting anywhere” so I started driking the vodka straight. From the bottle. The whole thing. I got incredibly sick and found a spare couch to lay on, where I proceded to puke my guts out for an hour or so. Then someone took me outside for some fresh air. I remember sitting on the steps to the back porch, then all of a sudden falling over with my full body weight. I don’t know how long I was passed out, but I woke up laying on a deep freeze, completely sober, hungry, tired and cold.
My girlfriend that I’d gone to the party with, her boyfriend and I all left and started walking home, taking shortcuts through fields and trees and an air force base before getting home, which I found out the next day was some 6 miles away.
Okay, that’s alcohol. I once tried magic mushrooms at a house party with all my friends I knew and had grown up with, so I knew everyone there really well. I took a handful and it hit me about 1/2 and hour later. It was a “hat and glasses” party, and I was wearing a french fedora dipped down over one eye and a pair of shades. Someone casually mentioned that I looked like a french agent (whatever that is) and I hallucinated that okay, I’m a french agent and I’m here to spy on all these people (that I suddenly didn’t know) for the french government. I thought this was perfectly normal and even took to calling one of my friends, a big 6’2" biker-looking sort of guy my “Commissioner”. He played along and humoured me and basically kept my head half-assed straight for the rest of the night until the shrooms wore off.
My poor old Dad, he’s like 63, ate some cake when he was working on a tug boat crew once, that he didn’t realize was laced with some very potent weed. He munched down half a cake by himself then took the wheel of the boat and had about 5 miles to drive. He was at one point down on the wheelhouse floor on his hands and knees, praying someone would basically come along and shoot him and put him out of his misery.
He was lining up another boat with a point of land up ahead and was trying to figure out how long it would take to reach the boat, and figured something like half an hour. He lost all sense of time, and thought about 3 hours had passed, and then saw that the boat hadn’t even moved from where he’d last lined it up. I guess 10 seconds was like hours to him, lol. He was alone on the tug and completely freaking out for a good 8 hours until the stone subsided. He’s no stranger to drugs from his younger days, but that was a good 25 years ago, and they don’t make weed like they used to, lol.
Oh ya, and by the way, I once agreed to a threesome with my hubby and his friend while I was buzzed out of my head (I won’t say on what). Some things just seem like a good idea at the time…NOT!
You can’t save your face and your ass at the same time.
Ahhhhh… alcohol and drugs. Now we’re getting somewhere.
This was ten years ago or so, I must have been 17. I had an argument with my girlfriend just before my best friend picked me up to go to a party. I was feeling down, and once we arrived at the party, I skipped the usual beers and started rightaway on the straight white martini. Allegedly, I downed THREE whole bottles of that chemical crap that night. The only things I remember, are the extreme urge to take a piss on the top of a 10 meter high pile of bricks at a construction site (a miracle that I didn’t kill myself doing this), and waking up all entangled with my bicycle in a pair of bushes because some dog was licking my face. The next day, my father and I drove to the University of Maastricht (I even ended up going there to study !) for an information day. I was completely hung over and threw up at least 20 times.
The smell of Martini still makes me hurl.
As for drugs… well, I’m from Holland, so I’m immune to pot
Just kidding, the most memorable experience was at a party at one of my friends’ parent (who were, of course, out of the country at the time). I was completely stoned, and ended up (get a load of this) in a threesome with TWO GORGEOUS BLOND TWIN SISTERS.
I’m NOT making this up. I just wish, in hindsight, that I was completely SOBER to experience that once again
I’m gonna get some coffee now.
“You know how complex women are”
- Neil Peart, Rush (1993)
I remember the night well …
Ronald Reagan had just won re-election, and a friend of mine and I were so depressed we decided to get drunk. On blackberry brandy.
He later passed out and puked on himself. For years after that, I would become nauseated at the scent of blackberry brandy.
But in retrospect, I can’t say it was an inappropriate response to the political situation.
I too have a few stories…like my birthday last year…I chased shots of tequila with beer. Bad idea. I had no pockets, and carried no purse, and when I got home, I had over $20 in change in my bra.
When I was 18, I got really drunk at a friends house, and smoked MANY cigarettes.Bad idea. I passed out on his porch, and he took a hose to me to wake me up. One of the guys gave me a shirt to wear home.(I think I changed in front of everyone) and they tossed me into a cab. I managed to get in the house, and into bed, and in the middle of the night, the phone started to ring, and my stepmom hollered at me to get it. I was dreaming I was still on the porch, with the host yelling at me to get up. I screamed “NO FUCKING WAY!”
I woke up to see my stepmom run in to get the phone, about half scared. They knew, and as long as I didnt drive, they were cool.
There was the time when I was 15, and I drank a pint of lemon gin in a half hour. I still cant bear the sight of it.
When I was about 18, I went to house sit with some friends…kim and her boyfriend, kim’s brother, and this guy I had a huge crush on. (this is painful to type) I ended up sitting with him, and things were looking great, and with my buzz from the vodka nad the orange pop…I thought I should chug out of the bottle. Well, I puked all over myself, right in front of him…
Once when married to my first husband, I drank half a quart of tequila…then I drank most of the rest…I wont describe the rest of the night, I do have some dignity.
I need more time to dreg up the other stories.