Lets see;
When I was about 19 I was under the influence of a substance and turned everthing upside down in a friends refridgerator.
About 6 months ago I took the sleeping pill Ambein and woke up the next morning to discover that I’d given myself a haircut!
They tell me that towards the end of a drinking contest (apparently while I was wearing the long formal native loincloth) with a copra ship captain and a store keeper on the Island of Yap I led the entire bar in all the “Old Standards” anyone could remember. Apparently the bouncer liked the singing and he encouraged anyone not taking part to take part.
Also the copra ship captain was so taken with the entire evening that he invited me to come along with him on the ship to his next port of call, Palau. Apparently I accepted as did a couple ladies of questionable virtue. The next day I woke up on the high seas, miles away from where I was supposed to be, bound for Palau in the Western Pacific with two women of the type I definitely would not in 1,000 lifetimes introduce to my mother.
I think it needless to say that my boss was not happy when I did not file the story I was supposed to file since I was hundreds of miles away from where it was happening.
I pretty much gave up serious drinking after that.
I was 15 years old and at the first rock and roll concert I’ve ever been to and the first time I drank. I was New Year’s eve and it was very cold. Some of the guys started buliding a bonfire in the parking lot to keep us all warm, after a while they ran out of fuel for the fire. I took off my socks and tossed them in the fire. That ran out pretty quickly and the guys asked me if I wanted to throw anymore clothes into the fire. I said sure and started to remove my skirt. A good friend stopped me, thank goodness.
As the evening went on, I nearly feel off of the balcony, a number of times, asked my friend to escort me to the bathroom constantly and on the way home, annoyed our designated driver enough to make him pull over on the highway and walk away from his car leaving us all just sitting there. It was a Honda Civic with about 8 of us crammed inside.
My friend was kind of pissed at me for making her miss the concert, but I had a really great time.
When i was about 16 to dropped some acid with some friends and went walking around downtown. First thing i did was get on my knees and bow to a Jim Morrison poster saying his name in a praying like state. Apparently people crossed the street not to come near me :o
Then on the way home, in the metro, i walked around and shook everybody’s hand and kissed (on the cheek) whoever would let me.
That was the first and the last time i did acid!!!
AAhhh, you guys have reminded me of another classic that I almost had forgotten. From what I remember, in 1986 I went to a Jimmy Buffet concert with a guy (our first date) and had unlimited amounts of tequila on hand. I only remember standing up on the benches (as everone else was doing as well) and I kept falling backwards into the group of about 5 or 6 chinese people!! I must have done this about 6 or 7 times before my date made me stop standing on the damn bench!
I have performed “the one armed fiddler” numerous times, while tipsy. 
So, um, what are you guys doing after work? 
I stole a friend’s couch. I showed up at his front door after a night of getting extra strong margaritas for half price and he said that the couch was mine if I wanted it. I don’t think that was what he had in mind.
Back in college I lived in a trailer park (hold the editorial comments). The mail boxes were by the highway and the trailers were parked about 1/4 mile off the highway down a dirt road. For some reason after one night of drinking I remembered about 3 a.m. that I hadn’t checked the mail that day. So I went to walk to the mailbox to get my mail.
Sans clothing. Any clothing.
Fortunately if anyone saw me, they either didn’t mind or didn’t bother calling the police.
I won tickets in 1988 to see Buffet (junior year in college). Got really drunk. Margaritas, beer, vodka, tequila shots. God knows what else. I started feeling bad on the ride over to the show. I quickly got separated from the group. I wandered into the upper deck, feeling quite miserable. I just wanted to lie down for a bit. Get my barrings. So I do so. Right on a bench next to the main walkway. People kept knocking their knees into my head, or patting me on the head.
Obviously, the knees to the head just made me feel worse. And the concert had started, so I the peace and quiet I wanted so desperately was impossible. I stumbled down to the main level, realized I had to puke. The line for the men’s room was out the door. I got in line, though, and waited. The line sure seemed to move slow. My stomach was doing flips. I really had to puke now. When I got to the part where I was holding the door open for the line, I couldn’t wait anymore. Not wanting to embarrass myself (!), I leaned my head into the space between the wall and the door and threw up three times. I felt much better, so I left the bathroom.
My head hurt, so I decided that there was no point in staying at the show. I decided to walk home. I stumble out of the venue. In front of me a cute girl was stumbling along the sidewalk. She turned to me and started mumbling something. I mumbled back and walked in another direction. I had seen a school bus in the parking lot. That would be the perfect place for piece and quiet, I thought. I stumbled over, forced open the doors, and made my way to the back of the bus, where I layed down and tried to sleep. I kept thinking that I would get in trouble for being on the bus, so I decided to make my home. But not before throwing up again. Yes, on the bus.
I stumbled out of the bus, across the parking lot, and across a field. I had to cross some train tracks to get back on campus. The train tracks were down a little hill, and then slightly raised. In the gutter, rain had accumulated into little puddles. I stood in a puddle for at least a minute trying to make sure no trains were coming. I summoned up the courage and crossed.
It took me about 1/2 hour to get back to my dorm. I opened the door and saw my roomie studying with his latest lustbunny.
“I thought you were at Jimmy Buffett,” he said.
I mumbled something about being drunk and sick, and climbed into our loft, into bed. At some point that night, I threw up again. It was either a dream or just water, because I couldn’t find it in the morning.
Oh, one other thing. A few years later, I was with some friends, and we were smoking an illegal herb made popular by Cheech and Chong. I was looking at a cassette cover of Donovan. He was wearing a rainbow-colored feathery jacket. I thought it was extremely cool. So I wanted to tell my buddies that I wanted one. I said “I wish I had a long coat, made of flowers.” Flowers are colorful, you see, and… ahh, it’s hard to explain. I was baked, and that was the only way I could express myself. They have never let me forget it. That was 11 years ago, and when they introduce me to people, they tell that story. It is pretty embarrassing. They still send me emails of one sentence. “I wish I had a long coat, made of flowers.”
Guess you had to be there.
I consumed most of a container of Nestle Quik, after waaaaay too many beers, sexes-on-the-beach, vodka shots, and other assorted alcoholic beverages.
When I say container, of course, I mean powder. Dry. With a spoon.
Was leaving Chicago, forever, to fly to Europe the next day. Went with a friend and got pretty loaded early in the day and came back to the apartment and crashed.
A lot of people in my apartment building had gotten together to give me a surprise farewell party that night. They knocked on my door, called me on the phone and did everything possible to wake me up.
No luck.
I got up at 5:00 am and went to the airport.
I didn’t even know they had a party for me until about 2 months later when a letter and a pile of photos showed up in the mail and there were pictures of everybody having a grand ol’ time, with a big bon voyage banner with my name on it.
The best picture was of several of them, standing outside the door to my apartment where I was zonked out, raising their glasses and waving goodbye!
I had sampled a certain smokable herb while visiting my friend and hanging out with some friends of his in his dorm. After that had finished and we were all tired, I laid down on his couch to go to bed.
In front of me was a poster of the entire Rat Pack in front of a marquis at the Sands Casino with all their names on it. For some reason, I started to combine their names in highly illogical ways:
“Dean Davis Jr.!”
“Sammy Lawford!”
“Joey Martin!”
and the topper…
“Frank RAT PACK!!”
I laughed myself to sleep. 
Oh my. I’ve done exactly the same thing. Ick, thanks for reminding me.
Other foodstuffs I have consumed while under the influence:[ul][li]a whole casserole dish of taco mince;[/li][li]a large iceberg lettuce;[/li][li]a bottle of Chocolate Ice Magic (the liquid chocolate stuff that hardens when you squeeze it on ice-cream);[/li][li]sand (if one is susceptible to suggestion, one should NEVER drink on the beach); and[/li][*]a family sized can of condensed milk.[/ul]Not at the same time, though.
Under the funny but somewhat ashamed of it now category:
I must’ve been 18 or 19, and driving home really quite plastered one night, only about two miles from home when I see flashing lights behind me. Pull over, cop comes to the window and asks to see my license and registration. I open the glovebox, which is just an absolute disorganized mess of paper, napkins, old receipts and whatnot, grab the entire contents in one hand, turn to the cop extending my full hand to him and say…
“Here, you find it.”
I did not get a ticket. Do not ask me why he let me drive the remaining two miles home…
I think I was in early high school when my best friend and I got trashed and decided to try to roll uphill. It had to have been very late in the evening, in a nice neighborhood, and here’s these two clowns doing their best to deny the law of gravity. This was in about 1973.
My impressionable little brother (a/k/a Lawoot around here) witnessed this poignant moment of artistry and, to this day, almost never drinks.
I convinced one of my hot friends (a girl) to french kiss and grope a large (full body) mirror, because I said that it would look like lesbians kissing. It was fun
I drank a lava lamp.
hey, it LOOKED like a beer!. I myself didn’t believe it until they showed me the super-8 home movie.
A relative of mine who teaches the hearing impaired says that she is sure, reading my lips,(no sound on the movie) that I’m saying “Cool! Electric beer!”
b.
One morning, after dropping off my date from the previous night’s party, I watched a long curving traffic light pole become a brontosaurus. (Paleontologists call them something else, now.) I sat through two light changes waiting for the critter to cross the road. Finally, I realized I was watching a hallucination, and I drove on through. That was a long time ago.