Let's Put This Baby to Bed

Well after a day of copying, pasting, editing, and most importantly...grieving; I'm back at the office and although not 100%, I'm ready to rumble. Seeing my favorite player's fibula being snapped in high definition last night sucked even more life out of me but after just reading about the way that Assman treated the world yesterday, I'm suddenly feeling inspired.

As you know, for Festivus to end, one of you jabronis has to pin me. While mulling over potential categories, a suggestion came down from corporate to go with the stupidest thing you have ever done while sober. Well, Art Vandelay is no "yes" man so I took that suggestion and threw caution to the wind, radically changing "sober" to "drunk." I got one shot at this and if I get to pick the category, you're damn right it's gonna be right in my wheelhouse. I won't beat around the bush...I'm coming at you with the old #1. Sure many have you have seen it before, but the questions remains as to whether you can actually get some wood on it. After the jump, the stupidest thing I've ever done while drinking, followed by your feeble attempts to pin me.

It was the very beginning of my freshman year in college and I had won a pair of fantastic tickets to see the Rolling Stones in Foxborough. Seeing this as a potential opportunity to get laid, I asked a very attractive female who was roommates with a friend of mine from high school. So, I had to drive from Providence to Cambridge to pick her up and then back to Foxborough. This was enough time to get 4 or 5 beers and a decent buzz but enough to make my bladder want to explode.

We parked in one of the private lots across the street from the stadium and started walking down Route 1. The lines were gonna be too long and there was just no chance of me making it inside that stadium before peeing myself so being the class act that I am I told my date to hold on a second and without looking, put my hand on the guard rail and jumped over it to go take a leak in the woods. One problem...right where I jumped over the guard rail was where a brook went underneath the road. I jumped off of a fucking bridge.

After seeing my life pass before my eyes, I found myself laying in a cold rocky brook with very limited ability to actually breath while listening to Living Color perform "Cult of Personality" live and my only solace being that my head didn't hit one of the big ass rocks I just landed on from that 15-foot drop. Long story less long...we eventually got me out of there and she drove my mangled ass to a hospital back in Boston where they confirmed that my entire rib cage was sticking into my lung. Good times. Especially during ragweed season.

She took me back and snuck me into her dorm and I’d lay in her bed moaning all night...just like I had envisioned the night going. I'd miss my entire first semester of college and while it was really sweet of her to scalp the tickets, drive me to a hospital, and take care of me all night...I'd get a little surprise a few days later. Apparently you don’t need to have sex with a skank to get the crabs. Simply lying next to her in her bed writhing in pain all night will do it.

So my stupidity caused me a missed Rolling Stones concert, a missed opportunity to get laid, a broken rib cage, a punctured lung, mutiple cuts and bruises, and a week of pelvic itching that I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy.

Bring it on.

Comments

[SL22]

Beat that, Johnnie. What a fucking dumbass!

[SL22]

Bueller?

[Art Vandelay]

Bueller?

I probably should have gotten this up earlier. I can see why I was out-voted on my decision to hold Festivus today. What...you've never done anything stupid when you were drunk, Slolz?

[SL22]

Dude, I've never even gotten crabs sober, while actually raw-dogging some beat-ass chick. How the fuck would I top your story? It's a winner even before that part, which rockets it into a legendary stratosphere, which probably does something else I could describe with a weird metaphor.

[Cozmo]

I submit. Done. Outski.

Frank, put a fork in this one, buddy.

[Assman]

I might have had something to beat you.

Then you had to go and get crabs, man. Damn.

[jackie]

So, it's safe to assume you were seeing no parts of the pussy anywhere else, yes?

[Johnnie]

This sucks...I have done more crazy things sober then drunk. I gotta dig for this.

[Art Vandelay]

I think we can make an executive decision to include drunk, sober, tripping on ludes...whatever. The only standard is stupidity. I wasn't really drunk either.

[Eli]

Vandelay, I have vague memories of you telling this story but the crab part eluded me- nice touch.

I need spend the some time on this. Asking someone to recall the most ridiculous thing they did while completely inebriated is pretty challenging.

[Art Vandelay]

Vandelay, I have vague memories of you telling this story but the crab part eluded me- nice touch.

Yeah, for years I thought it best not to advertise that part. One day, I just decided to embrace it. I love finding out about other people who have gotten that shit. It's like sharing war stories. There aren't too many forms of torture that I wouldn't gladly accept rather than being exposed to that wretchedness again.

[jackie]

*raises his hand*

[Johnnie]

Well then...here we go. Sorry if I get wordy -- because I will.

I was deployed to Guam for nearly over 4 months at the end for 2004/5. Anyways, it's New Year's Eve and our squadron threw a party that day that revolved around drinking heavily and partying. So we did what we did. Drank til the beer was gone and partied like it was about to be 2005.

We're on base at the time and someone says, "Hey, let's go downtown!" One problem. They're all drunk. However, I'm not. So guess who was crowned DD. This guy. At first I thought it was fantastic. I got the keys. I got the car. I make the rules.

Well, hold that thought. Cradle it. Don't let it out of your hands.

I was wrong.

So, I and 8 of my buds who are smashed to pieces, all get into the mini van and head out like a newborn baby. I was thinking "Sweet, it's New Years. I'm in Guam. Tonight is going to rock."

I hope that thought is still being held.

Quickly -- I chose not to drink that day because just the week prior I had a visit with Uncle Jager. 2 hours worth of steady communication. And then he left. Only he didn't. Just because the fifth was gone, didn't mean that he was content with life lessons. Worst hangover I have ever had. That alone lasted the next 2 days. I'm glad I didn't die.

Back to the story.

The drunken lot of them, led by me, head to Tumon and get into the debauchery. We, of course, head to the strip club. One drink cover. Full nude. Full touch. All you can eat buffet. Heh heh. (No really, I'm talkin' food. Sorry to let you down.)

So we all spend money and they get drunker. I stay sober and take it all in. But don't think I, or anyone else didn't get involved in the stripper's routine. We did. Ih, we did.

Midnight hits. We all celebrate and exit out. Only thing is, you can't round up 8 military guys to do anything -- unless you're a Colonel. Needless to say, 8 drunk military guys. Fuck.

So what happens next is the dumbest episode of Scooby Doo never made. The group splits. Part of them go into the Outrigger Hotel. The others go to the beach. I'm doomed. At some point I meet up with some, lose others. Then, visa versa. And versa visa. I also meet up with other sober people who know I'm driving back to base and want to ride along. And now I am direly caught in the "pants down, bent over, I have no control of anything" position. (I guess this is why Colonels get paid so well.)

So, randomly, finally I meet up back with everyone. Thankfully. But they all have stolen shit. Plaques from the elevator. Some dudes camera that they found on the beach. Miscellaneous clothing items. Nearly a large plant from the lobby. I'm going "WTF??" I even get told that a guy pissed in the Outrigger's pool and was chased by a security guard. White people. I swear...

So, I have to hurriedly round up these fools into the van, with a couple others. And we head back to base.

Or so I thought. I hope you didn't think it was over. The children are hungry.

We head to the only place open at 4 am in Guam. Denny's. Fine, I say. Get some food. Order to go. Then we leave. Well some decide to get a table and sit in. Others decide to get theirs to go. Some just sit around. Whatever. So as I waiting for all of them, I decide to say hello to a friend at another table. And as I walked up to the table, mayhem. (This is a month removed from Pistons/Pacers and suddenly about 12 guys, all military, decide they want to recreate the incident.)

A large dude gets up talking mad shit and starts throwing glasses of water, chairs, plates, whatever at another table. Suddenly that guy gets bumrushed by 7 dudes and choke slammed into a dining table. He gets stomped relentlessly. In the middle of it all, he's getting stabbed with forks and butter knives. Just anarchy. The tiny chamorran waitresses are crying buckets and thinking the world's about to end. And the whole time I'm thinking "Fuck. The cops are going to come. We need to GO!"

And they did show up -- when I finally rounded up everyone and I was throwing the mini van in reverse and backing up. The cop pulled right behind me, stopped, and got out with the maglite in my face and his pistol holster unsnapped.

Ya know, he just has to question and harass the sober white guy who was DD'ing for everyone and was playing good wingman.

While being questioned, in front of everyone, and unaware that the group of people that were in the fight we dead silent in another vehicle just over to the side of me unable to get away, I dropped the whitest comment I could ever drop in my life:

Cop: "What was going on here?"

Me: "Sir, I was taking some of my friends to get some food and suddenly a large group of African-American males suddenly got into a fight. We had nothing to do with this."

Did I mention that also with me were some black girls I was cool with that had never seen me talk in that tone before? Think the Dave Chappelle white guy voice mixed with a little Bryant Gumbel. It was a parody of parody. And everyone went bonkers when the girls said "African-American? You're stupid. Just say black!"

Luckily, after the roaring laughter from the drunken peanut gallery died down, we headed back to base. No charges files. Nobody arrested. 2005 saved by me.

Never again do I do that. Never again.

[SL22]

Uh...what of that story was something you did that was stupid? Calling black people African-American? Vandelay is laughing.

[Johnnie]

Taking care of a bunch of drunken people on New Year's Eve while being completely sober. It was noble, but completely stupid.

Besides, I can hear Art laughing from here. I had to post something, didn't I?

[Art Vandelay]

A great tale of drunken chaos to be sure but I gotta agree with SL22. You were the only one that didn't do anything stupid. If you were the guy that pissed in the pool and started throwing glasses of water at everyone in Denny's, you'd have a better shot.

[jackie]

How would breaking down in tears for no discernible reason (other than being drunk) and losing a chance to get some ass from an entertainer of gentlemen rank?

(I kid because I love kid.)

[Jack Klompus]

Fuck all hell. I don't know if anything in my vast catalog of drunken/high stupidity stories can top that one. That's Focker-quality hijinks.

[hdo45331]

Nothing from Jackie?

[Itchy]

For days I've thought "surely I've done something dumber than that. I was drunk a lot." But, being that I was drunk a lot, I can't remember too much.

While sitting around the old aluminum pole this morning talking about the good old days with my sis, I was reminded of what she feels is the stupidest thing I ever did while drunk.

I was visiting my friends at their college one weekend and as what tends to happen while visiting friends on a college campus, drinking began. Lots of it. Then we decide to hit one of the bars. A real skeevy bar that made me immediately wish I had some tall white pleathery shoes for a nice round of the Tequila dance on the bar.

Instead we saw that they had allowed some dude to set up a temporary tatoo parlor. Just right there in the back of the bar under dim light and beside the pool tables.

One friend came over to me and said "DUDE! I'ma gonna get me a tatoo." And commenced to explain this gowdawful plan of what he was going to get tatooed onto his ass and why. However, since I was still somewhat reasonable, I said "Dude, no you're not. Use your head. That's just dumb. You'll regret it in the morning." Imagine slurring though. I'm a slurrer.

More drinking commenced. Dancing. Merriment. Then another friend of mine says "HEY! We should get matching tatoos!" and since we were BFFs and I was smashed, I said "Hell yeah! We totally should! Because we're going to be BFF and this makes total sense! This is exactly the type of decision one should make while drunk."

So, we somehow decide what we want permanetly etched into our skin, where we want it etched into our skin, and we walk over to the skeevy dude and his skeevy equipment and get all perky and bimbo-y and discuss the finer details of the financial transaction that was to transpire before the etching of lameness onto our skin was to commence.

Yup. We negotiated the price of our tatoos. You know "since both of us were getting one."

So, I sat down in the skeevy chair and let this skeevy dude give me a tatoo (on my belly...I'm sure you saw that coming...) in a skeevy bar in a skeevy town in WV.

The tatoo looks like crap now. I no longer speak to the girl who has the matching artwork. It's a constant reminder (which, is funny as I had to be reminded that this was the dumbest thing I ever did) that I was once a huge dumbass.

Upside? I didn't get hepatitis!

[Eli]

OK, this one doesn't involve alcohol but mushrooms, which can impair judgement just as much as booze if not more. It's my sophomore year at CU and the buds and I are no longer confined to the dorms. We move into this basement apartment in old house off of University Ave and it's time to get high-O. A couple of phone calls later and we have an ounce of fresh shrooms. We divy-up, there's three of us, and consume with peanut butter sandwiches and 3.2 beer.

An hour later and we're walking aimlessly up through these empty fields in the middle of a snow storm in our t-shirts. For some reason, I remember carrying a shower head that I ripped out of the bath back at the apartment. Noone bothered to question me on this so I had no reason not bring it along.

Well, if you know Boulder, CO you know that one can only walk westward for so long before being confronted by Rocky Mts. Within ten minutes the snow stopped and the sky cleared, as is common with the weather there. We look up and we're at the base of one of the Flatirons- huge granite slabs hundreds of feet high that stand upright against the foot hills.

"Dude, what you want to do?"
"Let's go."
"What?"
"Up."

My two buds begin climbing. I drop the shower head and follow. Now, you have to visualize being on a 500 foot rock tilted upward at a 65 to 80 degree angle. The rock is covered in melting snow, the sun is glaring off it, your feet our slipping all over the place, and your hallucinating. You look down and your hundred and fifty off the ground, which isn't as scary as it is amusing because you've lost control of your faculties.

Eventually we hit a crux. We're about 200 feet up (no protection mind you) and the line follows this big crack that ends with a piece of overhang. There's no way to get around it since it's sheered on both sides. The only way is to reach up, throw your weight over the top, bring a knee up and roll onto the top. The other choice is to go back down a ways until we hit one of several escape hatches we spotted on the way up- which any life form indigenous to the planet earth would clearly have chosen to do. But no, this can be done, and I'm just the man for the job.

"Dude, you sure about this?"
"Dude, I'm seeing it- no problem."
"Dude, go for it."

So I claw my way up the crack which runs about 15 feet up to the overhang. There I encounter a problem. I'm 5'9". The nose of the rock I want to get on is about 6 feet higher than the highest point at which I can get my feet to. This means I have approximately 3-4 inches of empty space to contend with before I can even begin to negotiate the hard part. I look down and suddenly a trickle of sanity invades the nether-reaches of my ever expanding consciousness.

"I'm coming back down!!!"
"Just go for it dude- you can do this."
"Yea, you're right there- what the fuck."

I look up and try to concentrate on the rock- except the handholds keep transfiguring into various forms of animal life. I'm seeing everything from snakes and kittens to Bea Arthur's ugly face. Finally I go- I jam my feet against the sides of the crack- bend knees- jump up, grab the rock, and pull. Unfortunately for me, the rock was not solid- it crumbles apart in my hands and I come off and begin falling. I fall right past my buddies down 20 and 30 feet and then my head smashes on something- it sounded like the world splitting in half inside my brain. More tumbling and flying out of control no pain only horrible crunching noises and a sick feeling in the stomach. Then nothing.

I had bounced right off the rock and into the brush that runs up the sides. I was still about 150 feet up so I figure I fell at least a good 40-50 feet. When my buds got to me I was covered in dust and blood and laughing my ass off. They helped me back down mountain and we were in hysterics the whole time all the way back to the apartment. My entire back was soaked in blood that was pouring out of skull. There wasn't inch of me that wasn't bruised or cut up.

Around 9pm that night after the shrooms wore off we decided I'd better go to the emergency room.

injury list:
cranial concussion
broken middle finger
multiple contusions and lacerations
three broken teeth

[Art Vandelay]

Okay, sorry for slacking off this weekend. I'm giving Eli the pin for an impressive set of injuries but I would have liked to have seen a venereal disease contracted. Festivus has officially ended. Our parents must be so proud.

[Assman]

This Festivus has been a damned success. Congratulations to all involved.

I have no idea how it happens, but this bad boy needs to get linked on that Masterpieces sidebar like last year's.

[Jackie]

Vandelay: When you have a chance, add the Feats of Strength and Champagne Toast to the Big Board. That way when we do Masterpieces link everything will be captured.

Great job with MoC'ing champ. You did a truly masterful job.

And thanks again to all who sent in Grievances.

[Babu]

Damn Eli, I live in Boulder, get drunk and other stuff, do some dumb shit...but that is really goddamn stupid.

Oh, and 3.2? Was it Sunday?

[becca]

Okay... sorry... this is a toss in... someone will enjoy this... and erase it...

New frequenter of the blog, chiming in...

I think the worst thing I ever did drunk (besides this post) was end up homeless.

I moved in with this guy, and the second day I was in his house we went out to a bar. He met this girl he liked. I cockblocked. I kicked it to her, lesbo style. She was into it. I ended up taking her to an afterhours loft party. I met this boy who looked EXACTLY like Justin Timberlake... but on mushrooms (see, there's a connection).

I pick up the boy. We have a threesome in a locked bedroom in this random loft with the boy and this girl. I forget I have the only set of keys to my new house. My new roommate is knocking on the door. I am ignoring him, because I have a set of thighs around my ears.

The next morning I wake up in this loft. Alone. Four hours late for work. There is no one else there. I leave and start walking home. I realize I have no underwear on. I go BACK to the loft to look for my underwear. Can't find it.

I go home to find out.... well.... my roommate doesn't like me as much anymore. Then... I live on the couch in an upscale midtown NYC law office for a week.

Totally worth it, by the way.

[Jack Klompus]

"New frequenter of the blog, chiming in..."

I'm going to assume you're not Eye-talian Becca from the Benoit extravaganza. Unless you're using a different IP. All the same, welcome.

"I live on the couch in an upscale midtown NYC law office for a week."

Chiles?

[Art Vandelay]

This douchebag, upon discovering that his new female roommate is into threesomes decided the best thing to do would be to kick her out?

[jackie]

"I live on the couch in an upscale midtown NYC law office for a week."

Chiles?

Not me. On the floor under my desk.

[Jack Klompus]

"Not me. On the floor under my desk."

No, I meant were you the one who took Becca in off the streets? You know, a little "trading of services." I hear "upscale NYC law office" and I automatically assume it's you. As if there's only one or two in all of NYC.