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Drunk Stories.

 
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MP Bartley
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 07, 2007 4:52 am    Post subject: Drunk Stories. Reply with quote

Drinking vast amounts of alcohol...it's not cool, it's not big and it's not clever. It is however, invariably a goldmine for stories. So let's share some.

In 2001, me and two of my housemates decided to have a night out at the students union nightclub. It happened to be Valentine's Day, so there was usually a good bit of entertainment on. We had a good few beers in the house and then got a taxi straight to the club, where we proceeded to have some more beers. At one point I decided to get a bottle of Budweiser and when the bar staff gave it to me, I also got a little plastic tub, with an orange liquid in it.

"Cool", I think "They're obviously giving away free shots of something as a promotion". So I go back with my two mates, where I decide to just neck this tub of whatever it is. Glug glug glug it goes...

"CHRIST ALMIGHTY!!" I spit. "What the hell's the matter?", ask my two mates.

"This stuff - tastes like shampoo. Why the hell would anyone make a drink like this?"

It is at this point that my two friends then point out an 18 foot promotional sign that I've somehow managed to miss. It states quite clearly:



"BUY ONE BOTTLE OF BUDWEISER - GET FREE TUB OF MASSAGE OIL"

Mmm, tasty. Whenever I burped that night I was blowing frickin' bubbles. And bizarrely enough (or perhaps not bizarrely), whatever was in the massage oil made me trip quite spectacularly for the rest of the night. I was seeing whizzing lights, there was a dance combo on stage and the main guys head came off and floated towards me...yeah, all good fun.

So basically, never drink anything you're not sure of if you're drunk.


Other stories, people?
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laura
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 07, 2007 11:29 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Stories that don't involve nudity or dancing on bars or waking up in your own shower with a pillow and without any knowledge of what happened after 11 pm the night before? (I think I've probably forgotten the best stories.) ; )

K, let me think...

One time I talked to a very intoxicated Eric Snider on the phone. That was fun!!!

One time I made out with a really short, unattractive guy who apparently was wearing green, fittingly, and I get CONSTANTLY teased about how much I love leprechauns to this day... I will never live it down ever... (though I only vaguely remember it happening and would like to pretend it never did)... my friends even gave me a box of Lucky Charms the next day. Friends don't let friends make out with ugly people, right???? .

There are a few stories in which I wish I could say I was drunk at the time... like once, at night, I was talking on the phone and walked right into the deep end of my Uncle's pool... the one that didn't have water in it. And I was entirely sober! Let's just say I can be pretty absent minded to begin with, so you put a few drinks in me and I will probably do something stupid. (Though for some reason, my vocabulary improves.) I should maybe never drink again, I'm liable to kill myself.

And, there's this one. Not sure if it counts.

I'll give this some more thought, there's gotta be some better ones... I'm sure we've all had a few leprechauns (and massage oil shots) in our past.

: )
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Oz
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 07, 2007 1:17 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

In the interests of retaining the ability to, one day, run for Prime Minister, I shall refuse to take part in this potentially hilarious thread.
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petersob
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 07, 2007 4:01 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Why is it that every time Laura posts something like that, it only makes me adore her all the more?

Plus, the fact that she has precedent for making out with unattractive men has me in full "I have my answer--I'm dancing on air!" mode.Granted, I'm not short but that is only a pesky detail
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laura
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PostPosted: Mon Apr 09, 2007 6:51 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I'm sure it wouldn't be adorable if I narrated the times I threw up after nights of drinking! Razz

How come Bartley and I are the only ones who are telling our drunk stories? The rest of you can't possibly be running for Prime Minister!!!
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MP Bartley
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PostPosted: Tue Apr 10, 2007 6:48 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Buncha lightweights in this town...

There was this one occasion where I was in Prague for a friend's stag do (or bachelor party as I believe you call them). Our flight out was 9 in the morning, so we started drinking at about half 7 in the airport lounge. This continued onto the plane, and onto Prague as soon as we got there. And Prague does lush beer - strong, but as sweet as lemonade.

So it gets to about midnight and I wander drunkenly to the toilet in this one bar we'd inhabited. However, I totally forgot the way I'd came in, so I ended up out on the street, with no capability to realise my friends were about 100 yards away. So I inhale deeply, try to concentrate on walking in a straight line and try to find my hotel. However, at this point I'm so drunk I decide that I am no longer in Prague. No, I know believe (because I don't recognise my surroundings) that I must be in Newcastle. But of course I am!

So I flag over a Czech taxi driver and for the best part of 20 minutes, attempt to convince him to take me home to Sunderland. From Prague. I'm drawing him little maps and everything, totally failing to comphrend that he's a) foreign b) I'm the most drunk man in the universe right now and c) the taxi fare would still be being paid off now if he'd taken me.

Eventually something clicks and I realise where I am and manage to stagger back to the hotel before passing out.

The second night was slightly less eventful. It had got to about 3 in the morning and I decide to head back to the hotel. I get there and the front door's locked. Odd, I think, it never normally is. So I look around and no lights seems to be on. Maybe if I press all the doorbells someone will wake up and let me in, I surmise. All doorbells pressed but no answer still. How very strange. I take a step back to try and think of something else, which is when I realise just why I can't get into my hotel.

I'm not stood outside my hotel, I'm stood outside the Prague National Museum, which funnily enough is not where my suitcase is.

Top weekend.
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PostPosted: Tue Apr 10, 2007 12:45 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

My uncle was a brewmaster for Pearl beer in San Antonio (he was German) and he and my maternal grandfather (also German) used to love to attend parties at the brewery. For some reason I have never been able to figure out, other than it was just other times, they took me to one of the parties when I was five. To get rid of me, I'm sure, my grandfather bet me a nickel that I couldn't down an entire stein of beer. Of course I tried. Some time later I woke up in the back seat of his car, sat up, looked around, plopped back down and went back to sleep. The next day I was very sick, and have never been drunk again from that day to this. Lessons learned when young are the ones that stay with you.
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petersob
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PostPosted: Tue Apr 10, 2007 12:52 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Look, I'd love to share hideous tales of drunken bad behavior in order to look all cool and to impress Laura but, apparently unlike others around here, I can actually hold my liquor.

The closest I have to a story is the time that I got royally pissed off at Martha Plimpton, got fairly drunk as a result and when I arrived home (still not entirely sure how that was accomplished), I proceeded to return the messages on my answering machine. Frankly, that is more of an uninteresting anecdote than a real story.
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JaySeaver
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PostPosted: Tue Apr 10, 2007 2:54 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I don't drink. No-one who has looked at my shelves of movies, books, comics, toys, etc., has confused them for monuments to self-control. I'm pretty sure it would be a very bad idea for me to touch anything that is actually addictive in a chemical sense.
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David Cornelius
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PostPosted: Tue Apr 10, 2007 3:42 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

petersob wrote:
the time that I got royally pissed off at Martha Plimpton


The best eleven words EVER. Do tell.
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Oz
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PostPosted: Tue Apr 10, 2007 4:16 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Seriously.

Those are almost better words than "the time Molly Ringwald's French husband objected to me hitting on her in front of him."

Drunk story that involved me, but not in a criminal sense - was working on the film Taillights Fade in Vancouver in like '98 or so, and we had a crew party at a place called The Sidebar Lounge downtown. Seedy hotel bar deal.

Anyways, my friend Paul Z (who Scott and Erik know well) was working PR on the film, and at some point went to the bathroom. He bounced off a few walls to get there, but seemed to make it okay.

Fast forward a few hours later and we're all leaving, and as the last few people exit (me being one) a freaked-out bartender comes ripping out of the bar and stops us from getting into a cab. "Someone's still in the bathroom and he won't come out."

So we go in and sure enough there's a pair of feet on the floor, pants around the ankles. Nobody wants to look under to ID the person, in case they're dead or gross, and besides the floor is grotty.

So we eventually get someone a boost over the top of the door, and there's Paul, naked from the waist down, sound asleep on the toilet, snoring quietly.

We bang on the door loudly and he ain't budging, so finally someone throws a bucket of water over the top and he wakes up in a flash, looks around to see six heads looking at him, realizes his pants are down, does them up - flushes - and walks out without saying a word - sopping wet, and with no shame whatsoever.

"That's nothing," he said the next day. "If I had a dollar for every time I fell asleep on the toilet..."
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petersob
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PostPosted: Tue Apr 10, 2007 4:48 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Fine, but I am warning you right now that it isn't much.

A few years ago, there was a party to announce the nominees for the Chicago Film Critics Awards and Martha Plimpton, who was in town doing a play at Steppenwolf, was enlisted to do the announcing. I was asked to write the presenter copy and, not surprisingly, the material was studded with jokes and other bits of weirdness. I sent it off to her people a couple of weeks before the event and told them that if they wanted anything changed or tweaked, they should let me know and I would be more than happy to rework it to make it more suitable for her. No problem--everything was fine.

Cut to the day of the event--actually cut to about an hour before it is supposed to start. I emerge from a screening of She's All That and am immediately summoned to the phone. Turns out that Martha has decided that she doesn't want to do any jokes and would I please rewrite everything. I point out the fact that I had asked them weeks ago to let me know if they wanted any changes and that it was literally impossible to rewrite everything and get it ready in less than an hour. They kind of ignored that and toldme that she wanted it rewritten to take out all the jokes. Finally, I kind of blew my stack and told them that if they didn't want the jokes, they should just take them out themselves and read the rest. (I may or may not have made some comment about getting lessons on humor from the co-star of "Goonies" but I really don't recall for sure)

I get over there and I start hearing about how disappointed they are with the material and I really get annoyed. Finally, the whole thing starts and she begins doing the presentation. They yanked out most of the jokes but it becomes evident that there were some things in there that they didn't quite realize were jokes and they were inadvertently left in--she would say something, it would get a laugh and she would scowl. It is just a horrible experience all the way around and while recounting what happened to colleagues, I hit the open bar a little too hard (especially since I had eaten nada that day) and wound up getting pretty plastered. Normally, I would have wandered away but I think people were trying to keep me over there so that I wouldn't start anything with the wrong people.

The punchline, of course, comes the next day when I read the coverage of the event in the papers and Plimpton is being complimented for amusing the audience with her jokes.

Like I said, not much of a story and I apologize for making it sound better than it really was. Now my encounter with Julia Stiles at another party, that was a bit of all right.
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laura
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PostPosted: Tue Apr 10, 2007 5:15 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

What do you mean?!? That's totally a story worth telling.

Now I will forever hate Martha Plimpton and write about how she's drunk all the time on Gawker.
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David Cornelius
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PostPosted: Tue Apr 10, 2007 6:54 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Yeah. Totally worth it, especially for this sentence:

Quote:
I emerge from a screening of She's All That and am immediately summoned to the phone.


You make it sound so awesome.
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