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I'm thinking grade 11 high school, started around 7 pm by downing a bottle of white wine in about 10 minutes. Proceeded down the street to my friend's house party. Chased the wine with rum cokes and beer. Within about an hour was curled up in the fetal position at the bottom of the basement stairs. Flashed in and out of consciousness with the slow realization that the party got out of hand and half the school population was privvy to my paralytic state.

I somehow managed the walk of shame out of there and began the stumble up the street to my place. Passed out on the side of the road about halfway there and woke up to some curious passersby trying to ascertain my condition.

"I think he got hit by a car, " offered one couple.

"No he's just drunk, " confirmed an old man.

Fearing one of them was going to call the police or an ambulance, I pushed myself to get back up and made it home. Crawled up the stairs and passed out in bed. Got a nice talk from my mom the next morning. A friend also dropped by to return my t-shirt which I had apparently left at the side of the road.

Total time from my starting to drink to ending up in bed was an epic three hours.

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I left Max Lobster's house one mornig at aorund, 9:00. Was in pretty rough shape, but I had had at least a little sleep. I take my first left (im driving) and I hear "Help Me!!". I look over and there's a man sitting in the bushes, with an extra set of legs beneath him. I stop the car, get out. Apparently some homeless man tried to break into his house but he caught him red-handed, chased him down the street, punched him in the face and was now sitting on him.

The homeowner was about 60 and Slavic. The bum was about 40 and drunk. The funniest part about the whole thing was that the bum kept asking me really nicely to "Get him off me" and the homeowner kept telling him to shut-up and that I was a good man and will wait until the cops arrived.

So of course I waited. It was the wierdest scene ever. ONe grown man sitting in the bushes on top of another grown man. And then me, hungover as shit, just standing around.

But I digress...

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Only because it's DJ Melbatoast's birthday do I have to share this one:

In Highschool he drunkenly walked this girl home form one of his own house parties. He never returned.

We found him later passed out on a lawn, with blood on his face.

He was making out with the girl when he got a nose bleed, and then he passed out on the lawn.

Happy Birthday DJ, I love you man!!

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Guest Low Roller

I used to take Halloween really fucking seriously. Dressing up in lavish costumes was quite key. One halloween a group of us thought that it would be a real cool idea to be full-on smurfs, blue body paint and all, and throw a house party. The costume ended up being totally epic.

evilsmurf.jpg

There were four of us in total who donned the blue, and we were surely the hit of the party. Girls loved being double-teamed by the smurfs on the dancefloor.

badsmrfs.jpg

DJ Smurf was making sure that the beats were bumping.

djsmurf.jpg

The one thing that I was doing that none of the other smurfs were doing was drinking. But I certainly was not drinking heavily by any means. I would make myself some screwdrivers (vodka/OJ) and sip away on them. I had maybe two or three of these drinks before I became visibly drunk:

smurfkabal.jpg

Now I am not much of a drinker, but I am also not a lightweight. However not much longer after the above picture was taken, this was taken next:

drunksmurf.jpg

Out cold.

The next day I had an epic case of alcohol poisoning, and had just enough of a window of consciousness to drive my ass home where I slept for the next two days.

I must've been quite the sight for fellow motorists. A messed-up smurf clinging to the steering wheel. Amazing.

What had happened was because I had body paint on, the alcohol was unable to evaporate out my pores, and therefore continued to circulate in my body. With every additional drink I made I compounded the situation.

Let that be a lesson to you all:

Body paint + booze = epic fail!

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Grade 10 and my parents and my best friends parents are gone away. We have a big Saturday night hockey party, playing road hockey, watching playoffs and playing Blades of Steel on the Nintendo.....

I took a bet from the boys that for $100 I wouldn't down my 26-er of Absolut. Proceeded to fill one of the those massive McDonalds cups to the brim with oj and mostly vodka (for some reason I remember it was a Doug Gilmour Leafs cup). First one went down fine, more road hockey, the police show up, yadda yadda yadda. We take the party inside, smoke some BT's and I down cup #2. From this point on I am filling in from years of storytelling.....

I am a mess, falling down the stairs and laughing uncontrollably about it. I announce I am going to another party a few blocks away, and somehow I make it there with a few 'onlookers' in tow. Finish the bottle straight on the step and fall face first into the pile of shoes. At that point a sober friend figured it best to get me back to party #1 where I am staying for the night. Well between him deciding this and telling me it was time to go, I freaked- did not want to end this evening and turned to run away only to meet a large maple tree. Right into my torso at full speed I took that mofo on.

Was placed into the car, passed out and driven to my crash spot. Between getting out of the car and them carrying me into the house I started to puke. Naturally a bunch of drunk 15 year olds don't really pay much care and put me in the shower. By this time I am screaming at the top of my lungs. They think I am just way blasted and turn the water on me to clean me up.

Two girls who live nearby show up and decide to take care of me. I can imagine the fun they had with me lying in the bottom of a budget basement shower in my boxers, drunk as dead.

I woke up in a water bed the next morning with one of the girls, again screaming like a little punk. My entire left side was throbbing in pain. So they take me to the hospital where I am dry heaving into every bucket I can see. Finally get to the x-ray station and MY GIRLFRIENDS mom steps into the room as she is the xray tech. She knows I am not suffering from the food poisoning I claim, makes it very difficult for me to have my shoulder xrayed and makes it clear I am not to be calling Naomi anymore. I dry heave some more, get the results back on my shattered collarbone and go home to sleep until my parents pick me up the next day.

Absolut last time I ever drank vodka, even the smell makes me gag now.....

Gilmour'd

S

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Edited'd...F those guys!

Good work!

Not much booze involved here but a good ole embaressing story of mine.... back in a high school, me and my best friend Ryan decided that we were fearless daredevils. We called our stunts "Hellbounding" and the bulk of them involved one of us riding on the hood of the car while the other guy would drive (my record was over 140 km/h, face first on the hood of my Dad's Oldsmobile with my toes hooked in where the wipers are).

One of our stunts was also jumping from high places....culminating with a drop from the rafters of the high school gym. We pulled it off a little sore, but we looked pretty heroic (and idiotic to some).

That same day I went to party at a buddies place. A few of the guys decided to jump off the deck into some snow banks. I scoffed at them and headed up to the peak of the 2 story home. I remember yelling down "How deep is that snow down there?", then taking a last drag of a cigarette and saying "guess I'll find out when I hit the ground" and jumping.

The snow was like 6 inches deep on top of ice. I broke my ankle and wrist and limped back into the house with my face turning green. My buddy who was hosting the party got his girlfriend to drive me to the hospital and called my Mom to come get me. FML.

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Time to chime in here i guess.

I was just out of highschool. my buddy still in grade 12.

On my way to a party with my buddy, the DD for the night, he had a curfew cause he was in some shit so he wasnt boozin. Get to the liquor store and knowing i will be getting drunk both nights i decide to pick up a quart. Half for tonight, half for tomorrow. So get to the party sit down at a table with a few friends and my DD buddy starts goading me into drinking the whole thing. Of course, i said you are nuts but about halfway through the bottle i felt invincible and kept going. I moved once to piss and the rest of the time was straight drinking sitting down.

I have no idea how long it took but it wasnt long. I got up from the table as it was time to see what was going on at the party. I was in the basement so decide to tackle the stairs and promptly fell up them a couple of times but i made it. This was the last of my full recollection of what happened. the rest is just bad feelings and glimpses into the evening filled in by my DD buddy.

At this time of the party i managed to get a little something on the go with a chick. so had her up against the car in the driveway making out. i don't recall any of this i just woke up with one of those feelings. Found out she was a bit nuts the next day so steered clear of that for a while.

DD has to get home to make curfew so I pile into the car. I promptly pass out in the backseat with some girls that were getting a lift home. DD said he heard girls saying, just touch it go on to their friend. I don’t think I was groped but I probably was, DD wouldn’t look back he just laughed. So they stop off at Wendys and leave me be in the backseat. It was just about closed so there was only a couple of tables with people in there. My buddy and friends are chowing down when someone at the next table says.. “Is that so and so out there stumbling around the parking lot?â€â€¦ DD looks up and laughs and says no its his brother. So they had to come out and gather me back in the car.

I wake up in the morning to my brother waking me up laughing. I turn around barely opening my eyes.. what? Sore this morning he asks? No why.. you fell down the stairs last night. the stairs are wooden and cement at the end. No injuries though, success. I stumble up stairs to piss and hydrate myself and my mom is making smart comments to me.. how are you feeling? she says. A little hungover mom. She responds no doubt you couldn’t find the washroom last night. apparently I walked into their room looking for it and getting mad at them when they told me to turn around and get the hell out. To be fair I only took one wrong turn.. bathroom is on the left and I took a right.

So I go back downstairs to lick my wounds and notice grass stains all over my clothes. I couldn’t remember anything and tried to figure things out.. I vaguely re-called the chick and also had a flash of memory that I stumbled into a car and while looking back I noticed the sideview hanging off. I just hoped it was the “fear†after being really drunk. At this point I still couldn’t figure out why my clothes were filthy. I thought my buddy had dropped me off a long walk from my house and didn’t take me all the way home because of his curfew. So I phone him up and of course hes laughing at me.. says no I dropped you off at home, he thought about it but it would be too cruel he says. So there is about ten steps I would have needed to take to get in the house without getting grass stained clothes. I didn’t make it I guess.

He made fun of me for everything, the crazy chick, the quart of rum, the stumbling about wendys parking lot, the passed out and getting groped but he never mentioned the sideview so I thought I was in the clear.

I then kicked ass in ball hockey that day.

First thing Monday I see a guy cruising up to me.. you knocked off my fucking sideview mirror. Oh shit, I was hoping that didn’t happen. I offer to pay even though I was broke but thankfully he just dry cemented it back on.

First quart night not but not the last.

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Final night of a week-long tour through Southern Ontario, we're playing The Grad Club at Western in London ON opening for some band. It's a sweet gig, best perks of the tour by far, free food and unlimited free draft beer. We finish early and have a lot of time to kill at the bar while the headliner plays. Our singer was under the weather so she went off to bed, drummer didn't drink and was preoccupied doing sound, so the bass player and I decided to take advantage and drink our faces off.

Show finally ends and we order a bunch more beer at last call for packing up gear. The other band (who are still sober at this point) invite us back to their afterparty, it's at somebody's parent's place and they have the full spread going. We get goaded into rounds of tequila shots as the others try to catch up to our head start.

But there's no catching us by this point. We end up in a hot tub with some groupie types running our mouths about being rockstars, etc. I was sitting up on the edge of the tub (out of the water), lost my balance and backflipped off the edge onto the unlandscaped yard (read: dirt). I knocked the wind out of myself, and I'm writhing around in the dirt when I hear "Where's Dave?".

I somehow spring up and catapult myself back into the hot tub, filling it with dirt and mud. Groupies depart. While cleaning myself up I managed to lose both my wallet and my bass player. Drummer eventually finds me and convinces me it's time to leave. Cellphone rings, it's our MIA bassist:

"I'm on the railroad tracks. I'm lost and I'm scared."

So we jump in the car trying to locate him based on the middle-of-the-night drunken landmarks he's providing. At this point it all comes on. I'm hanging my head out the window like a dog, puking all over the passenger side door, can't get it under control. Drummer decides his best option is to get me out of the car and find the other guy before he gets hit by a train. So he drops me off in a park to continue ralfing my guts out.

When I woke up it was about 14 hours later and I was home in Ottawa.

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Dave-0, thank you (and great story btw), you reminded me of prolly my favorite Hal and DJ Melbatoast story.

We went out to a bar to play an open mic set on his birthday. 5 years ago today, actually! We got so sloshed we:

a) Cut our set short mid song because DJ had stopped playing and was staring at the wall

B) Almost fought some White Supremasist types (outnumbered us - we made the right decision by not fighting, trust me)

c) Spent some time in the hospital to treat DJ's concussion (long story, but didnt involve the KKK at least)

d) Forgot our instruments (two guitars, Mando, and Conga) at the bar.

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Wow... some epic stuff here...lol

Hmmmm, so many to pick from, so I'll stick to my golden "The weekend I killed my truck" story:

So I was probably about 22, early November the first year after I graduated university, and am back home on PEI living the 6 months of my life on POGIE! Living like a rockstar on $570 every 2 weeks, living with some buddies in an apartment in Ch'town. We got to boozing before a big party night at Myron's, and decided on a quart of Zambuca, a box of wine, and a quart of tequila between the 3 of us... recipe for success!

So we start boozin away, gettin pretty sloppy about 11pm, loving life and playign drinking games and people were starting to call cabs to leave for the bar... Meanwhile, I was kinda missing my university buddies and hot ex-GF who were all back in ANtigonish, NS... a short 4 hour drive from Charlottetown... I figured I had a full poagie check in my back pocket, and a 1985 toyota 4 speed truck at my disposal, and I could make it over there to party with them at an afterparty... I was on a mission!

Left the party, started driving across town towards the Conderation bridge to the mainland and my buddy calls on my cell phone to find out Where the fuck I went... I tell him I'm heading to Antigonish (loaded).. he quickly realizes that he can't talk me out of it, but in turn, I covinced him to come to... awesome! A co-pilot!! So I go back and pick him up and were off!

For those that don't know, finding the confed bridge from Charlottetown is pretty dame easy, except for on this night... we end up heading North somehow rather than West, and honest to fucking God, almost drove off a cliff somewhere near Malpeque before I hit the brakes... (Check a map here, not even fucking close)... we laugh a little bit, he calls me an idiot, and it's his turn behind the wheel... deal.. time is now around 12:30-1:00am...

We finally find the bridge, stop at the esso for some smokes, a puck of skoal, some jerky, and a huge bottle of chocolate milk! They let us cross the bridge and we start cruising, still thinking this is an amazing idea.. were now in NB, me in the passenger seat feeding us the box of wine which I had with me, heading towards Sackville, and my truck start to overheat for the first time ever...we waited for it to cool down, and gave it another shot...2 km's later she overheats again.. hmmm... not being much of a mechanic, and loaded, I figured I would use my McGyver skills to get us back on the road... I proceeded to piss in and pour chocolate milk into my radiator to try and cool it off... not only did this not work, but the smell of steam that came off the truck was somethig I will never forget... I never drove this truck again after this crafty mechanic job...head gasket was blown, radiator fluid leaked into the oil..yada yada: Truck is dead

Long story short from this point: call a tow truck, brings us to Amherst ($200 shit!) and it almost day light now... we waited outside the bus terminal for a couple hours chewing the skoal and spitting it all over the front steps of the acadian lines station wearing bar clothes from the night before, wrapped in a blanket...

I put my buddy on the busand had to call my dad to figure what to do with my dead truck... he wasn't impressed, but decided he would bring his Chevy Euro (a lumina) to come tow the truck home... so I wait inside the canadian tire for 3 hours for him to get there... he brings 2 tow ropes and a bad attitude with him (don't blame hima bit...lol)... on the tow back, we snap the tow rope at least 12 times, until I can barely see his license plate... I lose power as the battery had died, and what do you know...but it snows for the first time of the year... From her eon in, me and my dad now joke that I should have died that day... but just the truck did... that truck never did make it back to PEI in one piece... we end up leaving it in NB with some bush (not hot) lesbians for a week...

one of my best / worst weekends ever...

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August 2004 - I arrived home from a vacation in Europe armed with Slibovitz and Absinthe.

A week or so later, the ex and I throw a house party. We put on a wicked spread of appetizers and bbq'd burgers, etc. Of course our friends brought bottles of wine and beer. I'm happy to see everyone so I'm in prime form, drinking lotsa wine and beer.

After dinner I break out the European booze. "Anyone want to try any of this?" Surprisingly, not too many takers. Only a few people had a shot, and I think they were just being polite.

I had several shots of each and was quite loaded by 9:30 pm.

Topped all that off with a bottle of the Quebec beer "La Fin du Monde" which has 9% on the label. You can really taste the pine needles in this stuff.

Well that was it. I spent the next hour or so hurling and was in bed by 11.

I've since quit drinking.

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Guest Low Roller

jackdaniels.gif

Jack Daniels is concentrated liquid evil.

The summer of 1995 was a magical one. I had just graduated from high school in Ottawa and reconnected with some old camping buddies from Montreal. We camped almost every week-end, completely abandoning the city life. At one of these camping events I met a hottie and we hit it off. She was a tall leggy Polish blonde, so basically right down my alley. Problem was that she lived in Montreal, I was in Ottawa, and she was known for being a bit wild. But things started off pretty well.

We hung out every week-end, drinking, smoking, and sucking face. Great!

But then once school started back up again things started going a little sour. Obviously the summer romance was being challenged, and in retrospect I should have known better what was coming.

The problem was that I am a hopeless romantic, and refused to accept that this wonderful creature was slipping from my grasp.

The first real clue of my inability to deal with this situation was at a party being held in a church basement. We all went there together hanging out but she was acting a little weird. She spent little time with me at the party and more time flirting with other guys there. I, being an idiot, figured it was just her wanting to be social at the party rather than hang out with me. That's fine. But as the evening wore on it became increasingly obvious that things between us were not right, pretty much accentuated by some guy picking her up in his arms and her laughing and putting her arms around him. She then said she was going home and that she will see me later.

I went to the bathroom to understand what to do with this rage building up inside of me. Do I go start a fight with this guy that I had no chance of winning (in a church no less) or what? I decided to do the dramatic 'punch the mirror' move. The falling glass ended up shredding my hand (scars which I still have to this day).

The rage subsided when I saw blood flowing everywhere. Panic kind of took over. I left the party pretty much right away and went to my car to wrap up my hand up in a bandanna. I left back to Ottawa with a major uncertainty as to what was going on (because I'm an idiot) and a fucked up hand.

It all came to a head the following week-end at a house party in Montreal where she didn't want to see me until the party itself.

Word spread to me that she was going to bring this guy with her to the party, so I felt that fists of fury were practically inevitable. To fuel myself for the event a friend recommended that I pick up some Jack Daniels to get my rage on. Sounded like a plan to me.

Waiting at the party I was drinking straight from the bottle, getting amped for a fight. Unfortunately by the time she showed up with her new boy toy I had finished the entire bottle and was so fucked up that I could not even stand let alone engage in antagonizing discourse. I'm pretty much convinced that at this point she informed me that we were through and then her and her new jock boyfriend left the party.

I spent the remainder of the evening curled under the buffet table where I could hurl in solitude and occassionally reach for a snack in between moments of unconsciousness.

I was taught two important lessons that evening:

1- You have to know when to cut a woman loose, and be sober enough to be able to do it.

2- Don't fuck with Jack. Never have since.

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Winter of 94 and it was my first time drinking heavily. The older high-school kids who I was kind of friends with were throwing a kegger for 3 guys who were taking off to Europe for a year. I managed to snag a ride to the party (45 minutes away, at a house in the country) in the bed of a friend's pickup truck, it was -15 that night. Going down dirt roads in a snowstorm with no blankets etc... I got pretty cold. Luckily I had pre-drank half a mickey of gin. At that time I was super scrawny and half a mickey was enough to do some serious damage to my sobriety.

We arrive at the party, first thing I do is knock over a pitcher of beer onto the stereo. It's fucked and no more tunes for hours until another stereo arrives from town. Start drinking beer (Texas Star? Lone Star? Some beer with a star in the name - facking horrible). The older guys at the party start feeding the beer to us younger guys like there's no tomorrow.

I go outside to take a piss, stupidly drunk, fall down a window well and can't get things together enough to find my way out. End up breaking the window with a kick, which was above the couch in the basement where people are drinking. Nice. Glass everywhere, in people's beers, etc. Guys come to pull me out of the well and give me shit about the window. At this point I get belligerent.

A taxi pulls up and an older man (an adult) gets out, sees me in the getting talked to by others, and comes over to see what the fuss is about. I start mouthing off at the 'old man' saying he should go find a party with other seniors (he was maybe 45, tops.) Turns out it was his house, and his son was one of the guys going to Europe, and he threw the party and had gone into town (return trip in a cab from there to town was about $30) to get another stereo after I had busted the first one. This doesn't matter at all to me - I take a swing at him. I trip, fall on my face, pull myself to my feet, pseudo-black-out, wake up hours later buried under about 20 bags of trash in the -15 degree garage.

Ended up being put forcibly in a cab and driven to a friend's house to sleep it off. Was still throwing up 36 hours later. Good times.

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wow

My girlfriend and my own birthday's were coming up and we decided to have a party at our place. I got facking ripped quick, before dark, and got ready to light up a fire in the yard. Things went surprisingly well until the cake came out and elemeno got the idea of winging a peice across the backyard to try and ping me with it... it missed Mrs.ScottieKing, who I was standing beside, by inches and when he saw that he missed he thought he'd get me, covered me in cake, including smeared it up my nose and then I went to shower. When I got out and half the party had cleared out I knew I was gonna get it, and L ripped into me. When she was done she went to bed and I, still fueled by booze and pot and LSD decided to try and make things better by cleaning up.

I have to say here that I can be a little "sensitive" on acid... I'm a dribbling bitch actually.

So I get a full case of empties and I'm about to bring them from my top deck to the garage when the bottom drops out. Before L was even out the door of the bedroom I was shouting obscenities about how I obviously hadn't done this on purpose. She creid and went back to bed. I went out to the garage to think about how much of an asshole I was being and elemeno helped to remind me... he's good for stuff like that ;) I pulled out a lawnchair and sat down heavily on it... it exploded into nothing and I slammed my ass on the concrete. I'm not really allowed to do acid any more. good times.

Edited by Guest
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I weigh 150lbs... there's no way that chair should'a gone out how it did... but it was awesome at the time... elemeno swears that I cried.

Karin has made a few lawnchairs rue the day they met her. :D

Camping at Izzy's, totally giv'er family camping, and I'm wasted off a case of beer and a mouthfull of fungus. Havin a great old time kicking our shoes for distance, launching lawnchairs (Karin mostly ;) ), and generally wreaking chaos... at dawn. I kicked a shoe for a good twenty yards and I hear L's voice from the tent. I ran over only to be scolded "I don't want you coming to bed with dirty feet." "I'm not sure I'll be making it to bed." "Keep your shoes on." "Ok"

So back to tossing chairs and fucking around when someone convinces me to climb on top of Schwa.'s car and sit on the inflatable kiddy chair... so I climb up in no time being as they were twisting my rubber arm and I take a huge chug of beer, which runs down my chin, chest, over the chair and underneath it, and then I go accidentally shooting off the roof, denting it. Again I hear rumblings from the tent and just as Schwa. and QQC ask when I'm going to be leaving L hollers to me... I turned to them and said "Now."

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