Drinking Story – I Don't Remember What Happened Last Night

(Photo from David Blackwell.)
While I was studying abroad in Italy, we had become acquainted with a local bar, Due Righe ('Two Lines', or as we knew it, 'Book Bar', due to its' large quantity of books in both the Italian and English language).

One night, less than two weeks into my emigration into Italy, we are drinking and playing Truth or Dare, but with a small twist: whomever is the person asking 'Truth or Dare' has to take a shot with the person they ask their questions towards.

Anybody else is free to drink at their own pace, but the previous rule is strictly enforced, and with absinthe, all of these shots are taken religiously.

As we're playing this game, we're getting progressively more and more intoxicated. We notice a woman is painting faces in the next room, and several shots later, people are using this information in their dares.

One girl has her face painted. Another guy becomes Spider-Man. I wake up the next morning, hours later than I needed to be awoken.

My trains have been missed, and I've missed almost half a dozen calls, with double the text messages.

Walking into the bathroom, I feel my face: crusty, like paint. I notice this, and begin laughing, checking in the mirror as to whom I could have been painted as.

Unfortunately, though, it wasn't paint. Apparently, sometime during the previous night, I had fallen down and bashed my head on something (later evidence points me in the position that I cracked my head on my nightstand while attempting to take off my shoes, possibly), neglected to notice the wound on my head, and passed out on my bed, facedown, without removing my jacket, shoes, jeans, etc.

My travels had given me evidence and reason to assume what I had previously stated within the parentheses. What I have yet to discover, however, is how and where the roughly 500 dollars in US, Swiss, European, and British currency had originated underneath my bed, and why it was soaked in what appears to be diesel fuel.

For several days after, other small things began to surmount: I had called somebody and yelled several names in Italian, all of whom sounded unfamiliar, most of my bottled water had gone missing (the bottles weren't even in the trash; they were just gone), and my American phone, tucked away on the other side of the room (15-20 feet away) was now dismantled and soaking wet (not in diesel fuel).

Nothing too shabby or permanent occurred. I have a very minor scar above my right eye, but other than that, no harm, no foul.

You Will Not Believe What Happened To Me Last Week

(Photo from mysiana)
I am surprised I remember it. I went down to my buddy's place from college. He lives in Lancaster, PA, so it was about an hour drive from my house.

As I arrived in the evening, I discovered he recently scored a few kegs, so I knew post-dinner drinking games would ensue.

Several of his cousins were visiting, so we all had dinner together. After dinner, my assumptions were proven to be correct. We played a few rounds of beer pong until all of us were at least tipsy.

At this point, two out of his four cousins were inherently drunk. My friend looks at me and says, "Cindy, let's break out the ol' truth or dare game!

Just like when we were in college." I smiled at him and had to agree.

We used to play it often with our group of friends. In order to start the game, we decided to sit out on his porch and play. You could say the game escalated quickly.

My friend, being the host, was talked into having his first turn of truth or dare. He is quite the risky character, so what does he choose? Dare. Everyone decided that I would be the one to choose his fate.

I wanted to pick something ridiculous that I thought he would back out of, but boy, was I wrong. You see, my friend lives next door to an Amish family. They own a large farm that included a field with horses grazing in the pasture.

At this point it was 9pm, so it was dark outside. I dared him to go and ride on of the horses since the fence appeared short and easy to hop over. Within a few minutes, his tipsy self-decided to do just that.

He sneaked over to the neighbor’s pasture, which was within viewing distance of the porch, and attempted to go bareback on the largest horse, the Alpha male. Unfortunately the horse did not take kindly to him.

He was apparently sleeping, and realizing this intruder on his back, bucked him off and ran off. We quickly ran to the edge of the fence after seeing the incident.

After a few groans, he got up and hobbled over to the fence. Thankfully the only damage was a few bruises to his pride; otherwise, he lucked out.

The neighbors must have heard the ruckus though, because all of a sudden, we hear a backdoor slam open and a man starting to yell. We all high tailed it out of there, hopping into my car that was parked across the street and escaping to grab some food.

We did not know if the neighbor recognized my friend, but he never admitted to it. Either way, I now know that my friend will not back down out of a dare, no matter how ridiculous it is.

Worst Hang-Out Eveeeeeeeeeeer! O_O

by Anonymous
(Florida)

My friend, Catherine (not her real name but does start with a letter C), was my best friend ever since Grade 1. We are Grade 5 now.

We had a party with a girl who is our friend too and a male relative of Catherine at the last day of school as a great barkada!

Catherine got totally bored so she suggested to play Truth or Dare - she loves that game - and hide at my bedroom so my Mom would not suspect what we were doing.

When it was my turn i was not listening and suddenly said DARE(IDK!)! Catherine dared me to sleep with her male relative BOTH NAKED!!!

I was like, NO WAY but she was like YES WAY!

Her male relative was on my side and we both argued with Catherine that it is illegal to do that.

But we had no choice but to lock the door and strip naked.

I was glad that we "just" had to hug and hold each others private parts... instead than me crying in jail giving birth!

---

Note from the Webmaster:

Sorry I had to tone down the language in your post a bit to make it (barely) suitable for the younger audience.

Even now I'm hesitant to publish the story. But I'll make use of it to take a moment and say:

What you did as a dare was way wrong.

You can't turn back time, but you cannot do that again. Ever.

To say you'll get in trouble would be a BIG understatement.

Your parents would suffer.

Everyone you know would know about it.

I'm glad that you understood it already, but you did not have to give in to "Catherine".

Truth or Dare is a GAME, and even if it feels like you have to do it, you can always say NO and stop playing.

Even if it's an advice that you'll be very unlikely to follow:

Talk to your parents about this.

You will get in trouble, yes. But it will be better than to carry that with you as a secret for years.

Drunk Underage Driving

by Beth
(Tampa Florida)

(Photo from Kashfi Halford)
When I was 13 I was at my friend’s house, and her parents were away. Her older seventeen year old sister was supposed to be watching us, but she had gone out.

There were five of us and we decided to play truth or dare. We had opened the liquor cabinet and were drinking some kind of peppermint alcohol.

I was already kind of drunk. My friend asked me truth or dare and I said dare. She dared me to take the keys to her father’s BMW and drive down to the corner store and get some cigarettes.

I said I would, even though I would never have done something like that, but I guess I was kind of drunk and having too much fun. I got my friend’s dad’s keys and we got in the car.

I wasn’t sure how to start it for a minute but then I did. I backed out and went really slow down the road. I think I was going 15 miles per hour.

When we got to the corner store there was a cop there and I was afraid to get out of the car. I hid down in the driver’s seat and waited, and we couldn’t stop laughing.

Then someone shined a light through the window. It was the cop. My friends couldn’t stop laughing but I was so scared I started to cry.

The cop made me get out and I was in my flannel pajamas because I didn’t even think to get dressed. He made me go sit in the cop car and then he drove us to the jail.

Our parents had to come get us. I got in big trouble and had to go to court. I was never allowed to go to my friend’s house again.

Truth, Dare and Drunk

(Photo from Emiliano Horcada)
It wasn't a very cold night in Seattle when a good number of friends of mine came over with whiskey, wine and beer.

Back then, when I was 23, almost 24, it wasn't uncommon for my friends to come over to my house, that we'd just rented in the U-district of Seattle, pile into my room, the most accommodating of the whole house we rented at the time, and drink, smoke, and tell stories to each other.

I tended to travel, so my stories were never the same twice, Chris was a really good bullshitter who could weave tall tales like nobody's business, Jack and Eva were recently married and great company, and Sig was one of our crazy roommates who we occasionally wondered about, in that sense of 'is he building a bomb in his room or something?' sort of way. (He wasn't, by the way!).

It was Friday night in Seattle in early fall, which means the endless rain had started, the leaves weren't so much falling from the trees as getting poured down from the rain, and it got dark at an hour most of the rest of the planet would think far too early to actually be that dark.

My birthday was a couple weeks away, and we were in the stages of planning a combination of that and our housewarming party. Late, of course, but it all worked out in the end.

Even then I'd been known for having an impressive tolerance to alcohol when it came to wine: it wasn't uncommon for my friends to watch me drink 1.5 liters of wine over the course of a night and only have a slight flush to show for it, and tonight was no different.

We'd finalized our plans for the party, and decided in our fun and games to actually start up a game of Truth or Dare.

When you're in middle or high school, Truth or Dare usually winds up revolving around silly questions such as have you ever done this sort of adult activity, do you like that person, or dares usually along similar lines: Kiss that guy/girl, be in a room with them for a minute alone, so on.

Truth or Dare among my friends is a horse of an entirely different color. Indeed, when it came time for me to choose either, I decided on a lark to go with Dare, and found myself with this gem: Walk across the street, and moon the camera in the then-closed gas station across the way.

Bear in mind, that when this little get-together started I was only clad in a bath towel since I'd just gotten out of the shower post-work and didn't have time to get dressed before alcohol was shoved into my hands, something that had not changed during the next hour or so as we went through planning and then playing afterwards.

Heedless of that, I arranged the towel around my waist and searched for my beloved black boots, footwear that had survived a hitchhiking trip and more with me by that point.

I made a pretty interesting sight, I'm told as I walked across the street, long hair unbound, towel covering me not unlike a kilt, and untied black boots as I walked over the closed gas station, whipped off the towel to rub my butt along the glass door, take a moment to rearrange the letters on the sign for humorous benefit (also giving the camera even more of a show at the same time), and rather confidently strut back home across the street again.

This wasn't the end of my adventures in that house, but the others are stories for other times...

THE DRUNKEN DISASTER

by John Harlan

(Photo from By permanently scatterbrained)

Followed by a Cow When I was Drunk

(Photo From hern42)
When we made it back to the house, we realized the guys that hadn't come with us had finished the rest of the beer, and we needed more drinks. And that expensive absinth was sitting there, taunting me. The next patch gets very fuzzy very quickly as apparently absinth doesn't f**k around.

I remember the point when I stopped pouring it over ice and sugar and started drinking it straight, which in hindsight was probably a terrible, terrible act of bad judgment.

Anyway, the next thing I know, I'm outside carrying a bale of hay, its now daylight and there are cows following me around. I'm somewhat unsure of how I got to be here so I was panic and start drunkenly lumbering forward, still with the hay.

The cows following me also speed up, and start mooing and getting agitated. I'm not sure if anyone can relate to this, but especially when drunk, 400 odd kilograms of prime beef is a VERY scary confrontation.

So I did perhaps the most sensible thing I'd done all night (morning?) and ditched the hay in the middle of a paddock.

This seemed to satisfy the cows who chewed it down, giving me a chance to stagger back to the house, get to bed and get some much needed to sleep (I have no idea what time this was at).

Embarrassing Drinking Story? Had to Clean the Toilet

My second to last semester of college was hell. Incredibly hard, got sick *twice* and had to beg indulgences from the Dean each time. Thank God the second time he'd come down with the same thing and missed two weeks. It made him more sympathetic.

Anyway, the semester comes to an end and my buddy Chris decided I needed to decompress. We hit a lot of bars and drank a lot. The last thing I remember was sitting at the bar somewhere and ordering a round of shots, then finding out I was broke.

"No prob," says the bartender, "given what you spent tonight, this round's on the house." I remember lifting the glass, but don't remember it reaching my lips. The next morning I wake up in my own bed in my own apartment.

I'm in my winter pyjamas, and was neither suspiciously clean nor filthy with vomit. On the other hand, I do feel a sudden urge and head for the bathroom. There I find the toilet duct-taped shut and a little sign in my wife's handwriting.
Did I mention we were newly married? And she considered Chris a bit of a bad influence? Maybe it was his randy toast at the wedding. But I digress. I read the sign, which said: "Toilet out of order (your fault), Go to condo office and get plunger."

Winter PJs were a clue. There was about Eight inches of fresh snow on the stoop, and the condo office was a half-mile away. Nobody had plowed yet. Walked the walk. Got plunger, walked back, Un-taped toilet: best left to your imagination.

Cleared the toilet. Used the toilet. Cleared it again. Lather, rinse, repeat. Eventually got some water and aspirins to stay down, decided toilet was healthy, and returned the plunger to the condo office. Still not plowed.

On the way back, looked at one of the snowy lumps I'd kicked off the stoop. It was my new hat. The last shot was still in it, as were a number of others. All frozen solid. Well, slushy. Decided it was beyond repair and buried it with honors in the dumpster at the end of the street.

For good measure, the gloves I'd carried it with went in too. I still miss that hat. Did manage to keep both the wife and Chris, though, so on the whole it's good.



Photos from richardmasoner and wheeldog and cbailster via flickr

Drinking Dare and dirt bikes

We were all about 20 and hanging out at a friend's house in Twisp Washington. Alcohol was flowing around pretty good and the owner of the house broke out a nice dirt bike.

The Yamaha YZ 250 started getting passed around. Everyone on the bike was trying to outdo the next guy and me in my wisdom hopped on and told everybody I would show them up.

One guy Said: "oh yeah, Climb that hill behind the house. I dare you!" I said sure!

Half buzzed and not thinking very clear. I took off up the almost totally vertical hill and didn't make it halfway up before the bikes rear tire dug into the hillside and me and the bike rolled all the way back down to the bottom of the hill!

To this day that story gets brought up all the time and I'm told of how much of a moron I looked like rolling down that rocky brushy hill. Man it hurt!

My Co-celebrated Drinking Birthday Party Was So Embarrassing

(Photo from theopie)
It was a friends' birthday party several years ago. He and I have our birthdays a few days apart, so we co-celebrated. His parents have a nice pool with a Jacuzzi, so it's a pretty decent spot to party.

There were quite a few people there, especially for our kind of parties. I'd say 20-25 people. We started out the night with a game of King's Cup, Never Have I Ever and all. After a round or two of that, pretty much everybody was fairly drunk.

At that point, we decided to start moving people into the pool and hot tub. Most of the girls around had low self-esteem, so a good chunk of them were just in gym shorts and tank tops with their bikinis.

As we no longer had a set of cards that was waterproof (Those had gone out the window at a hotel in Dallas one year.), we just decided to play truth or dare.

None of us had really played since we were in high school, long before any of us drank. Keeping in mind that there were quite a few people shoved into a hot tub that really only supported five or six, it was fairly crowded.

The other birthday boy decided to start it. To keep it simple, we just had it so you asked the person to your right, that way everybody got a turn, and we could keep track of whose turn it was.

When it was my turn to ask, the girl to my right was a good friend of mine, and she was fairly drunk. I asked her, 'Truth or Dare?' She started stuttering, and finally answered truth.

I can't remember exactly what I'd asked her, but it got a good laugh out of everybody around. Then it went to a friend to my left. I'd known him since elementary school, and wasn't expecting much. So he asks me, truth or dare, and I respond with 'Dare!'

I didn't think it would be that awful- In my years of drinking games I have done quite a few embarrassing things- Kissing guys, streaking, all kinds of stuff.

Then he looks at me, and with no fear in his eyes, he says to me- 'I dare you to give the birthday boy a lap dance.' I was stunned- I'm the epitome of white, I have no rhythm, and I'm not exactly a 10 on the sexy scale.

So he sits there for a second, while everyone's in an uproar trying to get me to just go and do it, and he busts out his phone, and he says, 'You know the song, you know the dance, do it for the birthday boy!'

He picked... 'I'm Sexy And I Know It.' I was fairly hammered at this point, so I said screw it, and started grinding on him and all that I knew how to do (in terms of a lap dance). Little did I know how much birthday boy had drank that evening.

So at one point, I suppose I sat down on him weird or something. Anyway, so I start air-humping around him... Then he pukes and I'm talking exorcist vomiting, like a good 15-20 seconds. I didn't know what to do, so I just sat there and pretty much took it.

To this day, my friends still mock me and joke that my dancing is so bad it makes people puke.

Why I Don’t Drink with Steve Anymore

by Ken Howlwitz
(Orlando Florida)

(Photo from Stuart Conner)
Most of the times when I drink I get really drunk.

Blackout drunk.

Can't remember my own name… Drunk!

Damn what did we do last night… Drunk!

“Why am I in jail…?” Drunk!

But not when I drink with Steve. As much as I wish I could forget, the memory is branded in my mind.

It started out as a normal Saturday night drinking with the guys. Me, Steve, Arnie and Buba. No one likes Arnie because he tells corny jokes and comes up with really bad games to play when we are too hammered to say no.

Buba is a babe magnet and gets us lots of girls. Plus he is a fun guy to hang around. I would party with him even without the beers.

This particular Saturday, we all went out to a nearby tavern where there were some pretty babes and cheap beer and a few pool tables. Arnie got drunk fastest, forgot he had no idea how to play pool and bet me money. (He still can't recall why he is $50 in the hole and I can afford a flat screen TV.)

After a few hours we were really drunk and Buba found us some pretty tipsy blondes. We were getting on well having fun with pool and joking around, when out of nowhere Arnie suggested we play Truth or Dare.

Like a bunch of 12 year old girls at a slumber party. I was about to say NO when Steve pulled me aside and pointed out that the blonde hanging onto Buba kept eyeballing me.

I looked her over and realized she was hotter than the girl I ended up with. So we agreed in hopes of swapping girls. Steve chose first and I got him to admit he used to have a bad STI after that no girls went home with him.

Everyone chose Dare after that. It went for a while mostly us daring the girls to kiss us or one another. Then finally it landed on me again. Steve was sore that no girl would even look at him so he dared me to shove a cue stick up where the sun doesn't shine.

When it didn't go as far as he thought it should, he helped me push it farther. In the end I spent the night in the emergency room and no girl went home with me either.