3rd degree... don't think ouch is quite the right word...
You must've been next to passing out drunk!

Well, I just updated my post - It may have only been considered 2nd degree, but certainly at the far end of 2nd before 3rd. My ankle was probably against the muffler for at least 2 minutes, just cooking away!
And yes, the next morning the pain was unbelievable. And yes, to not feel such a thing happen, I had to be *very* drunk!

Alrighty here is The Don's story.
Last April we went out for Doob's (Dominicide friend) birthday. It was decided beforehand that I would be the DD that night so Don could drink freely. BEWARE of nights when Don can "drink freely." He isn't very good at the heavy drinking. And our friends are seasoned alcoholics and they will just keeping buying you beer after beer, shot after shot. Which is what happened. I had never seen Don so drunk. And he is an ANNOYING drunk. I was trying to sit somewhere and let him do his dopey thing but he kept coming AT me all in my FACE and shit. Annoying. He would follow me to the bathroom. GAWWW. But the best part was when he grabbed my mini skirt by the bottom and YANKED IT UP in front of everyone so my friends could see my ass. So anyway, I am driving his annoying ass home and I'm on the highway and he keeps saying "pull over pull over!" so he can puke. And he does this like 3 times to me and each time I pull over on the interstate so he can open the door and just hang there. In 40 degree weather. And does not even throw up. And i have to lean over and shake him so he can fucking close the fucking door so we can get back on the interstate.
His NEXT thing is "OMG I HAVE TO PEE RIGHT NOW YOU HAVE TO PULL OVER" so I take an exit and pull into a restaurant parking lot. He jumps out of the car and pees on the restaurant, under the lights. Not behind it.
The next stop is the 24 hour grocery store. The next day is Easter and I need to get some last minute candy. So I leave him in the car and go in. Now keep in mind this is a BAD side of town. So I come out of the store and look at my car and there is no one in it. And the door is open. Fuck. I get closer and find that Don is hanging out of the car by his seatbelt and there is vomit allllllllll over the ground and my car. So I'm trying to SHOVE him back into the car and close the door (he's heavy and I'm wearing a little skirt in 40 degree weather. Not fun.).
We get home. He is passed out still. I go inside to get a blanket for him because I'm not about to try and heave him out of the car. I go back into the garage to give him a blanket and he's out of the car, face down, lying between the car and the garage wall. I'm like "whatever" and throw the blanket on him. Then I go and get the camera because I'm good like that.
Next morning I found that he had made it as far as the utility room (no doubt trying to get to his bed) and passed out next to the cat box. He told me that the cat woke him up in the morning while he was pooping.
Unfortunately, the picture I took has since been removed from an old thread here. :( Guess it disappeared when the site got moved. Hope I can dig it up one day. It was awesome.

And people wonder why I lock the bathroom door when I'm pukey.

They are all, "Ing, we are WORRIED about you, PLEASE open the door."

Not a chance, I know you bitches have cameras.

I kind of sympathize with the Don about the puking while hanging out of the car though. Remember the very first VS Scavenger Hunt, where Gleja had the enormous privilige of dying several times in PvP because I was drunk, and then conversing with my boyfriend, who was forced to take the helm of my character to let him know I was communing with the seals?

Boyfriend: Um, everyone on vent is asking "Where's Ing?"
Ing (in the bathroom): Tell them I'm sick. *HOARRRFFFFFF*
Boyfriend: ... I don't know how.
Ing: Type /w to tell Gleja. *HOARRRRFFFFFFF*

The only other thing I remember about that night is that I went out of the bathroom to get Mr. Bear (shut up, only Mr. Bear can comfort me in my time of need) and a blanket so that I could sleep next to my best friend: the toilet, and the boyfriend was playing Wizards and Warriors. Old school. I slept on the floor in the bathroom with the door locked, lest pictures be procured. Even drunk, I am not THAT much of a damn fool.

The next day was Father's Day, so my brother and I were driving up to the lake where my parents hang out. It is three hours away. I could not drive as I wanted to die, so my brother had to drive. His car has no air conditioning, and he does not mention this to me until it was too late. I was fine as long as we were on the interstate, but we had to go through like three tiny little towns where the speed limit was like, thirty. Then it got hot.

Ing: You might need to pull over in a second.
Brother: Okay.
Ing: NOW! NOW! PULL OVER NOW!
Curb: Hello, pleased to meet you.
Ing: *HOARRRRRFFFFFF*
Curb: OH GOD! WHY? WHYYYYYYYY?

After leaving many presents in residential areas of small towns, we arrived at the lake. My brother had no towels and no napkins or anything in his car, so I smelled like ROSES. My father LAUGHED AND LAUGHED AND LAUGHED.

"Ha ha," he said, "You were snakebit."

Ladies and gentlemen: my family.

Heh. Lovely. :)

I never drink so I have no unreasonably awesome drinking/puking/passing out stories. I am pious and good and I go to church regularly.

Hallelujah, Amen.

someones going to hell!

yeah, for FIBBING.

FIBBER.

I can say, though, that after a party of fruit-in-cooler-drowned-by-booze at a stranger's house, never EVER say to the mexican boy with a hair-net on his head 'What's your name? Wait... Jose? Jose Jalapeno??'.

Ever. Never ever do that.

Oh, Sherica. I would do anything short of selling my soul to have seen that.

I will not tell the whole story. I will not.

But I will say this much: an empty stomach, a few handfuls of Cheetos, prescription-strength codeine, and copious tequila make quite a mess. A bright orange mess.

Oh Oh! And never look when the slutty, has-a-burgeoning-crush-on-your-date, waitress says 'Hey! Y'all! Look!' while you are up in the balcony at the local pub and she's down below. Never look, that is, unless you WANT to see saggy titties with pierced nipples.

AND NEVER, EVER allow your husband's 'friend' to get drunk on vodka then wander through your house... That 'man' puked ALL OVER MY BATHROOM. I mean, ON the CEILING!!!!

I learn a lot of things to never do when I'm drinking. But wait, I don't drink. Nevermind.

/crosses self three times, sings the Chumbawumba 'Mary, Mary' song, then flushes the toilet

I have three stories. Only one is interesting. The two not-interesting ones go like this:
Lyr drinks.
Lyr throws up.
Lyr sleeps it off.
Lyr wakes up feeling good to go.

The only variation of not-interesting is that in one of the two, I was in college, and it was homecoming day, and...OK no one I knew was at homecoming. But they were somewhere else. So I was watching ST:TNG on the lounge TV, and whenever a commercial came on I would run up to my room and have a shot of Absolut Citron. And then I was soooooooo sleepy on the couch. So I had a nap! And I remember dreaming the following:

"WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP YOU NEED TO WAKE UP NOW"

And then I was awake and there was vomit all over the dorm couch. So I got up and went to the trash can and threw up some more, and then into a bathroom to throw up some more than that. Then I thought, "I will totally have to come clean up the couch. When I am not dying." So I went to the couch and flipped the cushion over in the hopes that no one would notice before, you know, me not dying could come back and clean.

When I got up in the morning, feeling totally fine, I went back to the lounge and saw that SOMEONE HAD CLEANED THE COUCH. I am still mortified.

In the other not-interesting story, I was at a friend's house drinking red wine and suddenly I thought "BATHROOM. IMPORTANT." So I calmly got up and walked to the bathroom and started hurling. No one knew anything was amiss until I had been gone for a while. My best friend tried to come in and hold my hair, but I was like "OMG NO NO ONE CAN SEE ME IN THIS CONDITION AND BESIDES COOTIES."

He nicely let me borrow his bed for the sleeping it off. Fortunately for all of us, I washed my hair before getting in it.

The first party I want to afte I turned 21 was a Halloween party. I went to the liqour store and was overwhelmed by what was out there. I had no idea what any of it was!

I looked around for a bit, picked up a bottle of Cuervo gold, cause I was a moron. I also got a bottle of Goldschlager cause I've had it before and it was 'yummy'. I also found the coolest bottle ever.. AFTERSHOCK! I mean COME ON! It had sugar crystals in it! I get the biggest bottle of that I can.

I arrive at the party in my monk suit, holding a bag full of booze and work my way out to the deck to visit the friends that invited me. There were about 5 people out there, I pulled out this big ass bottle of Aftershock and said "Hey guys! Isn't this cool!" the 5 of us passed it around and it was gone in about 15 minutes. 15 Minutes into this party and I am plastered and reek of cinnamon.

Next to come out of the bag was the Goldschlager. Yay, more minty cinnamony stuff. I'm feeling good now, and decide to take a little break from drinking and not mention I have a jug of tequila up my sleeve. A nice screwdriver sounds nice, I say, Barkeep, hook me up! Ahh. Nothing like a party cup full of vodka and a splash of OJ for 'color'.

I pull my keys out of my pocket and jingle them at the Host and say "Can you go lock my car and hold my keys, I'm gonna stay here." but what I really said was "Heyman.. keysh for the .. umm.."
The host snatched my keys and told me I wasn't going anywhere. That went back and forth for a while and my car never did get locked that night.

Fast forward several beers, 'special' drinks and 2 packs of smokes later, I'm sitting on the floor with my friend, having a total drunken conversation about the economics of Equador while trying to bust open this empty Aftershock bottle so we can eat the sugar crystals.


apparently I never finished this story, there is more.

Things start to wind down, I have another argument with the host about locking my car. He won't give me the keys and by now he is drunk off his ass too and isn't understanding what I am saying. Suddendly I realized I hadn't eaten a damn thing all day, and the drunk munchies got ahold of me. The only thing availble was salsa and chips, so I gorged.

I started to feel a little woozy and sick, but I'm not the kind to throw up. I had a couple more beers and another smoke or two and then decided to to pass out on the couch.

A couple minutes later, I wake up in pain and look down to see someone giving me a purple nurple. Apparently I was snoring. I made a very slo jab to his nuts and he evaded, rolled over and fell back to sleep.

When I woke up, I was the late riser. Nearly everyone else was gone and I had the sudden urge to head to a bush or toilet, whichever was closer. I run to the bathroom, ready to puke my nuts up. Nothin. Doesn't happen. I go to splash my face with some water and wake up a bit and notice the sink is FULL of innards. I spend a couple mins dry heaving over the toilet but nothing is coming out. I clean out the sink a bit, light the candle, just waiting for my time to come. The inevitable puke. It just doesn't happen.

So I get up and go outside, maybe some fresh air will work. Nope, dry heave over the balcony for a bit, no goods. I light up a smoke and a friend of mine comes outside with me and as soon as I see his face, I hold up the "just a minute" sign, turn to the balcony and puke bright pink goo into the bushes below. Turns out the great side effect to getting hammerd on minty drinks is that even after you puke, you have great breath.

After everyone else woke up, we decided that breakfast would be an awesome idea. I had, for some reason, a breakfast burrito. Yeah, don't do that.

Turns out the great side effect to getting hammerd on minty drinks is that even after you puke, you have great breath.


So grossly funny I have to go lie down.

My first serious drunk was one of those where everyone buys you drinks. And to boot, it was soon after the first divorce and my so-called coming out into the social world. We started at home with pepperoni pizza then headed to the meat market. A couple pitchers of beer later, the mixed drinks start getting handed to me.

I actually did very well. I never blacked out, only spent like 2 hours in the bathroom trying to ladle pepperoni out of the sink so it could drain and only once had women coming into the bathroom to see the drunk guy throw up in anything that would hold liquid or goo. To this day Bud light smells and tastes funny.

The next time I was out of control was when I worked 3rd shift. Some of us liked to go to the local tavern that opened about the time we got off work. Some would have biscuits and gravy and some would have cheesburgers. Almost everyone had beer. This one time, me and a buddy were the last to leave. About 1130 in the afternoon, he says he has to go. I'm feeling too good so I go to a restaraunt/bar where by buddy is bar tender. I thought it was a grand idea to hang out there.

I had to be at work at 1030 that night and it was getting close to that time when I thought I better get home and get some sleep. I went home and was feeling pretty bad so I called a friend of mine and said "Hey, I gotta get some sleep. Call me in 15 minutes." Like an hour later, which was 15 minutes before I had to get to work, I wake up to the phone ringing. I answered and ask my friend why he didn't call sooner. He says "the phone's been ringing for 45 minutes.....". I still owe him for that one.

I jumped in the shower, and start to pass out. I spent the next 5 minutes laying on the tub bottom, shower spray pelting me and moaning. I got to work a little late. It was a factory job in security. We relieve each other from shift to shift. The standard practice is to arrive early and relieve the prior shift, who cannot go until relieved. Needless to say, the person I was relieving gave me the radio and headed for the door without a word, po'd at me. This worked to my advantage since he couldn't have smelled me in his rush for the door. I had an outside driving route that night so I drove to the nearest company building that was closed for the night, lay down on the floor and slept. I woke up at one point in the dark, one of the night housekeeping staff walking by in the dark and apparently not seeing me on the floor. I got away with that night scott free.

The last time I got out of control, a friend an I went on a trip to see the Pacers play in the playoffs against Atlanta. There were 2 L1011's full of fans. The trip included airfare round trip, bus to The Underground and bus back to the airport, and tickets to the game. So, we got pretty schnockerd before the game, and two girls my friend and I hooked up with talked me into pulling on a toke in an Atlanta ally on the way to the game. More beer at the game. So we're in the top of the Omni and it's the third quarter, all three go to the bathroom and I stay to watch the purses. After they leave I realize I have to go really bad but I wait patiently. Finally they come back, and as they shuffle into the aisle I try to shuffle out. Next thing I know, I'm head down about 4 rows, legs flopped over some women. I scramble up and these shocked women I almost landed on ask "are you ok?" and I ask them "are YOU ok?" and everyone else is booing and yelling "cut him off!". That was the end of the booze that night. I slept on the plane home.

Since that time, I've avoided getting that far out of control. There's no reason my brains shouldn't be splattered all over the upper level of the Omni except I got lucky and somehow my shoulder hit a seat and slowed me enough to not get hurt at all.

OK, I had not seen this before; it popped up when I clicked on the "random" link. What a great thread! (Too bad those pictures were removed though...) Since there are a bunch of new members, including me, I thought I'd revive it.

I thought I had good drunk stories, but these (especially Val's) put me to shame. Granted, I'd probably have better stories if I could really remember what happened on some of my more inebriated nights, but, well, you know how it is. And some of my friends are much more amusing drunks than I am, so I'm often is spectator mode (when someone decides it's a good idea to take a bite out of his wine glass, well, what can you do but just watch???)

I do have fond memories of a trip I took to visit friends who were living in New Orleans. After a full day of drinking in the French Quarter (I did not realize what a mint julep was at the time, assuming it was some girlie creme de menthe drink, boy was I surprised when I got essentially a full glass of whiskey) we were hanging out at yet another bar sometime at night, and I decided I should go get some fresh air and possibly empty my stomach. I didn't tell anyone though. After about 10 minutes, my friends apparently realized I was gone, but did they look for me? No. I don't remember what I did for the next hour or so, but when I came to, I had passed out on some grass by the side of the road. Not a smart thing to do anywhere, especially in a city with a high crime rate. I still had my wallet though. Because I had passed out directly across the street from the police station. Fortunately, public drunkenness doesn't seem to get the cops' attention in the French Quarter; I assume it's just background noise to them.

Heehee! You're lucky you weren't passed out on the border. ;) You'd have limbs missing.

I love drunken stories... they rock. I think I love them because I get to tell most of my friend's drunken stories more than they get to since I'm the one who can remember most of them. Except for when my friends set out to get me.

My alcohol tolerence used to be legendary amongst my friends, I was the DD who could actually drink a little while we were out and still be fine by the time we left. I was also the one with the biggest blackmail mental file. It wasn't until my friend's figured out how to sneak more alcohol into me that they got good leverage.

The first time this worked my one best friend was visiting while on military leave, so her, her twin sister (who was my other best friend) and their older sister decided we all needed to have a girl's night out at the bar where the older sister's friend worked as a bartender. Great, small bar, not crowded, and a good dance floor. I was all set to dance the night away.

We get there and stroll up to the bar, the older sister orders something for all of us, it was coke and god only knows what the hell else. All I know was it wasn't Jack, or Captain, or anything else I could readily identify. It was also nasty, so we decide to do shots to temper the nastiness. The first round of shots is Fire and Ice, then Tequila Rose (great ideas... if you keep them seperate! Together... let's just say ewww), and then I decided we're all too different for shots, some like the fruity, some like the fiery, and I just wanted to dance, so I order us Midori Sours, which somehow ended up becoming Malibu Bay Breezes, but didn't taste bad, so I didn't complain. Now all this time, we've all still been nursing down drink #1. I've been steadily sipping mine for the half hour we've been there, but it doesn't seem to have budged much, which I point out to my friends, who all assure me it's just the ice melting. Alrighty, I believe that. We finally go out on the floor and dance, but wouldn't you know it, for the first time ever, the dance floor is moving with me. Not good, so I go sit down back at the bar, and nurse my damn drink. I finally finish it, and the twins are grinning like cheshire cats. Having known them half our lives, and known that smile has never ended well for the person seeing it, I dared ask what the hell they were smiling about, and they rattle their very icy empty cups in my face. Normally I suck at math, but I quickly but 2+2 together to figure out that my drink was their drinks as well, and everyone around me had known. Their older sister and the bartender had both distracted me at turns so that the girls could dump their drinks into mine. But because I was a good sport, the bartender gave us a round of the house special, a little shot called The UFO. It should have been called Nyquil... the green kind, cuz that's what it nearly tasted like, which was really disturbing because it was purple. It actually sucked the breath out of us, it was just that nasty, so two of us ask for a soda. The bartender cocks his head, asked if we were sure, and when we nodded yes, trotted off and came back with what looked like flat sprite. We eye it funny while he eyes us funny, and asks us again if we're sure we want to drink that just like that. Flags are popping up, but being drunker than I thought, I'm just not catching the wave, so I look at him like he's lost his mind and take a nice big gulp of the flat ass sprite. Only it wasn't flat. It wasn't Sprite, and by god it was way worse than anything I had put down my gullet that night. It was straight up Stoli, a nice big glass of it. It smelled like rubbing alcohol, but having already taken a big gulp, and suddenly unable to take the cup away for fear of spraying the entire bar, I chugged the rest down, as did my poor friend, who found herself in the same weird paralysis. We finish the stoli, tears streaming down our cheeks, and kindly ask the bartender for a diet coke, or pepsi or whatever the hell is bubbly and comes out of the soda machine. He obliges feeling bad that he apparently can't hear worth crap that night.

Now, many of you know, drinking for nearly two hours leads to just one thing. And that one thing suddenly made itself very known. I yell to my friends (though at this point I think that I'm whispering discreetly) that I have to pee like a race horse, and then I try to stand up, only my legs didn't work anymore. So I "whisper" to my friends that I had to (and I'm quoting one of them now, I don't know if I actually said this) pee so bad I could taste it, but I couldn't move. So my stoli buddy decides she'll save the day, and tries to stand to help me up, only she can't move either.... so the other two sisters had to literally drag us to the bathroom.

So we're in there, and they trust us enough to do our thing, but stay in the bathroom just in case. All went well enough. I got my pants down and onto the throne on time, no accidents, I was even able to tidy up. But then came the standing part... I tried to, and fell forward, and my friend failed to remind me to lock the stall door once she got me in there. So there I am, lying face first half in the stall, half out, with my bare ass sticking straight up in the air. And we weren't the only ones in there.

I've also been told that during that night I sang love songs to old men so that they wouldn't feel lonely or sad, I told anyone who could listen about the woes of my ex, and went on and on about playing pool, but there was no table. All I can say is thank god this all happened before camera phones.

I agree. Thank god! Great story! :D

Omg lol i got tears from laughing after reading your stories, especialy yours aeryssa. Sad to say i have no stories. Yes i have been drunk. But not that drunk that i would pass out. I got drunk and i feel sexy >:). But that is it. But i really enjoyed your stories:D

LoL thanks Putana. I'm pretty sure we could get you to dig up a story :) Even mildly drunk stories can be pretty funny LoL

Well let me think about it. Was a long time ago :)

Ok... the new guy will share a story.

When I was a freshman in college I was living in Chicago. I had taken the EL (subway) downtown to a friends dorm earlier in the day. As I had no classes after 11am that day I decided it was smart to start drinking at noon.

By 5pm both my friend and I were well more then three sheets to the wind. For some reason we needed to get back up to my school. We attempted to perform controlled falling as we stumbled to the EL and got on the Red Line. Did I mention this was 5pm and the middle of rush hour?

If anyone knows the Red Line there is a sharp left turn and then a right turn as you get near the North/Clyborn stop heading north. Well we hit those turns and I lose my grip on the support bars. I start stumbling and falling down the isle, knocking into everyone. All the while I'm losing the copious amounts of beer I had consumed all over the well dressed suits and others rushing to get home.

My friends decides to yell out, "Watch out everyone, we're bowling for yuppies!" and proceedes to follow in my antics (sans the violent expulsion of beer that I performed).

Needless to say a lot of people were quite pissed off at us, and we were promptly thrown off the EL and off the platform one stop before mine. This left us with about a 20 minute stumble back to my dorm while I'm covered in beer vomit and bad gyros.

Lesson of the story: If you're going to get ripped and ride the EL... sit down.

BOWLING FOR YUPPIES.


Also...Gyros!