You know you drink too much when...

The next day you have an email that says, “Thank you for shopping at the iTunes store” and you have no memory of it. Worse, you find you’ve downloaded Jerry Reed’s ‘Lord Mr. Ford

True story.

Thanks for making me feel better DFTH!

Ah, so you really just had the wrong link in the clipboard when you posted this GQ?
And I tried so hard… :frowning:

And did a fine job.

Aw. Thanks for the pat on the back. :slight_smile:

…you walk into a bar and the bartender knows your name, and you’ve never been in that bar before.

…you spend more on booze than on home heating oil and you live in Minnesota.

…your friends have a contest every night as to if you’ll lose your wallet, keys, or cell phone.

…you “come to” sitting in a Golden Griddle having a huge pancake breakfast set down before you. And not in the same city you started out in the night before.

Blackouts are fun!

You know, I never thought so before - but if they end in pancakes, I’m sold!

…you return to the house where the party had been held the night before to retrieve your coat, and you compliment the host on his gold-plated toilet seat. (He replies, "That’s not a gold-plated toilet seat…you’re the man who pooped in my tuba!)

Larry Miller’s five levels of drinking (six if you live in a trailer park):

If he calls you “Mr. Durden,” run away!

…you see a sign reading “Drink Canada Dry”, and decide that you’re up to the challenge.

You wake up - in your own bed - to the phone ringing. The person at the other end says “I found this wheelchair after the party ended, could it be yours?”.

This happened to someone I knew 20+ years ago. He never did figure out how he got home and in bed, while leaving his wheelchair behind at someone else’s house!

You don’t go to sleep next to an ugly woman, but you wake up next to one.

Well, you have to balance it off against all the other times you wake up in a pool of your own sick.

Reminds me of a joke I once heard.

A man is sitting at a bar drinking, getting eventually obnoxiously drunk. At a late stage of the night he falls off his chair and starts crawling across the floor. “Jimmy,” the barman says for this is the drunken man’s name “, can I give you a hand there?” to which Jimmy replies “FUCK OFF!!!”.
He crawls out the door of the bar and there’s a taxi there waiting and the taxi driver calls to Jimmy, “Hey there buddy can I give you a hand?” to which Jimmy once more replies “FUCK OFFF!!!”. Eventually Jimmy crawls to his front door and starts smashing on it. His wife answers the door and says “Jimmy honey let me help you up.” to which once again he says “FUCK OFFFFF!!!”. He proceeds to drag himself up the stairs and into his bed.

The next morning his wife walks into the room with a pot of fresh coffee and says “Jimmy, the barman called, you left your wheelchair in the bar again last night.”

You go home thinking you’re about to score with Shania Twain, but you wake up realizing you just slept with Mark Twain.

. . .which smells of pancakes.

… when you call your ex girlfriend and tell her you want to get married. Conversation ensues, and now you’re seriously considering moving to Denver when you finish school.