After tonight I’m free. I’ve been living at work, almost literally. But it ends at 1:30 am, and I’ll be off for — are you ready? — three days in a row. It’s unheard of.
This whole month has been one prolonged swim in the Bay of Turds. But I’m thankful they’re letting me work like this. It’s busy, and they tell me I can just show up whenever I want. And that’s how Santa (aka Santy) will be paying for our kids’ Christmas. It’s been rough, but worth it.
And now that it’s almost over… maybe I’ll indulge in an abbreviated three-day bourbon season? It probably won’t happen, but it’s mighty tempting. At the very least, I’m gonna enjoy a few Dogfish Head products.
Someone told me a story a few days ago that made me laugh. He said that when he was 20 or so, he got really drunk with some friends and lost track of a big chunk of time. The next morning he woke up in a strange bed, completely naked. He looked to his left, and saw the back of a blonde woman’s head.
She was sleeping, and he thought, “Holy crap! I must’ve had sex last night, and don’t even remember it. Or who this person is, or anything about her.
Then the woman rolled over, and it was… his mother!
His friends had brought him home, dumped him on the lawn, rang the doorbell, and took off. A few minutes later a couple of them felt guilty, and returned. The guy was covered in puke, so they dragged him to the shower, and cleaned him up. His mother was upset, and convinced he would die in his sleep like Bon Scott, so they put him in her bed.
But the hilarious part was when this “girl” rolled over, with visions of sex dancing in his head, and he saw that it was his mother. Can you imagine the horror? My eyes!!!! Man, that’s good stuff.
The whole nakedness thing is kinda disturbing, though… Pretty weird. All of it makes me laugh, as well as squirm with discomfort. Ya know?
Have you ever woken up, after a night of boozing, not having any idea where you are? Please tell us about it in the comments. One time — a hundred years ago — I woke up in my own bed, but couldn’t find my car later in the day. It wasn’t where I usually parked it, and had no idea what I might have done with it. I was out walking the streets in a mild panic, with a powerful post-drunk liqui-shit brewing in my gut. I have a feeling it was one of those days when I said, “I’ll never drink again!” I’m not proud of any of it.
If you have any good stories along those lines, we’ll need to hear ’em.
A few nights ago, at work (of course), I bought two slices of pizza in the cafeteria. I asked for one slice of sausage, and one slice of vegetable. I refuse to say “veggie,” but that’s the way it was labeled. For the record, I said, “vegetable.”
And when I arrived at my table, I saw that the VEGETABLE pizza had some weird shit on it. Like shredded carrots, and celery. Have you ever seen anything like that? It was disconcerting, but turned out to be pretty good. Especially the celery.
What’s the most unusual pizza topping you’ve encountered? And what was your verdict on it? I don’t like to be overly adventurous when it comes to pizza, it’s too much of a risk. Pizza night is not to be trifled with. But what about you? Any bizarre pizza toppings in your past? Please tell us about it.
And I’ll be back tomorrow, a free man.
See you then!
Now playing in the bunker
Do your holiday shopping at Amazon: US and Canada
I don’t know where I am right now
woohoo 2nd!!
I’m in Hammond, Indiana and I wish I didn’t know that.
I woke up at 1:00 p.m. on a Sunday once in a motel 45 miles from my home with no recollection of the preceding night except for a few brief hours following the initial “mixing of the hunch punch” in an igloo cooler. No recollection at all.
How did I get here?
Where is that large automobile?
.
…..letting the days go by (water flowing underground)
This is none of my beautiful wives.
This is not my ’93 Honda Accord
There is water at the bottom of the ocean!
(under the rocks and stones)
Call me evil but I would hit on the teen mother. And how about those dance moves?
And she looks more like 24 than 15.
.
I have misplaced my car, my house and more than one wife. I don’t drink so much anymore.
jtb
A friend of mine misplaced his car once. He was at my place and parked in the business lot next door while we partied. Realizing her couldn’t drive, he moved it to the street a block away and took a taxi home. The next day he came to get his car but forgot that he moved it. Of course it was gone so he asked the business if they towed it, which they denied. He ended up calling the police to report it stolen. Needless to say, the cops found it parked a couple of blocks away. When they called him to say where it was, everything came back to him.
I never woke up somehwere not knowing where I was. I did, however, not realize I had been shot after a night of drinking. That wasn’t very cool.
I like the traditional pizzas – plain, sausage maybe eggplant. Salad pizza isn’t too bad but it’s too much of an oxymoron. It’s thinly veiled so that fat fucks can feel good about eating 7 slices. “But it’s salad!” yeah, right.
One office party some twit ordered :chicken marsala” pizza. I didn’t care for it at all. Chicken marsala belons on a plate over noodles or rice. Not chopped onto a pizza crust.
Wait a minute….Shot?? THIS I gotta hear…..
You know better than to just throw that out there and let it lay there.
It started in a Tex/Mex restaurant on 41st and Third, NYC, circa 1988. Ordered a margarita the size of a fishbowl (mistake #1). On an empty stomach (mistake #2) and was bought a second (deadly mistake #3). My brother ditched me to chase some skank and I waited for my friend Sue to show up. I remember at one point going to call her (public phones – none of this new fangled cell stuff back then) and getting caught on a swinging door and rocking back and forth for a solid 5 minutes. That’s when Sue found me.
Yeah, I was crocked out of my ever loving skull. On tequila! Oh, did I mention I also began one of those infamous “I’m drunk off my ass” crying jags?
Sue summed up the situation rather quickly and decided to get some food in me. She dragged me down Third Avenue to Tony Romas (a place for ribs!) where I stumbled in and around foot and vehicular traffic. It wasn’t pretty. I think I was called very bad names. And I was still crying.
Sue orderd 1/2 the menu and the waitress (and every patron in the place) knew I was in bad shape and were very nice and unbelievably unerstanding. By this point I was on the deep ragged sighs trying to explain how I got into the condition I was in and why I was so upset. And I looked down at my white blouse and saw a spray of blood across my chest.
And I looked at Sue in horror and said “HOLY SHIT! I’VE BEEN SHOT!”
With dignity and friendship, she calmly explained it was a mixture of ketchup and bbq sauce that, for obvious reasons, never made it into my pie hole.
I kept poking and dabbing at it looking for the “bullet hole”.
HOOOLLLY SHIT! Wotta story! Thanks for the explanation…after all…with this crowd you can’t leave us hanging!!
The last time I drank tequilla, I was ralphin’ in the dumpster behind Mario’s and Blue Lou’s on the South Side in Pittsburgh. It hit me so fast, I was escorted out THROUGH the kitchen, right through the back door and into the alley. Also circa 1980 something. I smelled like puke for 2 days. Never had Tequilla since. And never will again.
Oh…and what ever happened with your brother and the skank he ditched you for?
I don’t think I spoke to my brother for like 6 months after that. I have no idea where he went. Dope.
2 things I left out – the Tex/Mex restaurant had this gimmicky thing – if you wanted to cross from “Texas” into “Mexico” you had to go through the kitchen. The 2 bars were very different so everyone got up at one poitn or another to make the corssing. In my condition, I damn near barreled into the prep table.
The second was my friend called the company’s car service and slid me into a car from NYC to Danbury, CT. I had to find the invoice and “bury it” or my boss would have flipped. Not to mention fire me. That poor cab driver. Having to deal with ME. God bless him.
Tricksy and False!
Kenny D: I had to look that one up. Wicked little fairies?
I always assumed if you could remember the night before, you were half assing it.
I have never had a night like that. Ever. Which, with the company I keep, kind of surprises me. For some reason, I always just stop short of being that fucked up. I’ve always been like that. I’m always the designated driver, never the drunk.
My boyfriend told me about a time when he was younger, he took his parent’s car to go out. He ended up being out all night and didn’t stumble in til early morning the next day, completely fuck up and passed out in his room.
His dad goes in, trying to wake him…which I can tell you an impossible task….and asks “where’s the car”. He mumbles “in pieces”. Took him the whole day to find the car.
Oh..and pizza… I’m traditional when it comes to pizza. Nothing funky. Chicken does NOT belong on a pizza. Blecch. Thin and crispy crust, red sauce, pepperoni, mushrooms, extra cheese. Maybe sausage, onions and black olives. Depends on the place making it.
I like the canned mushrooms better than fresh. Fresh mushrooms just shrivel up and dry out like a piece of leather.
Too many times to report, I’ve woken up in strange places. Once woke up with the continental shelf of solidified puke attached to the side of my face. Thank God I was passed out on my stomach and not my back, otherwise I’d be up there comparing stories with Bon Scott.
Nearly ruptured my appendix watching the trailer for Teenage Mother, the sexploitation flic from ’67 that comprises today’s Further Evidence. It promises lingerie, burlesque music, a female sexual predator, and a gang rape, followed by–this is the shocker–a dull “educational” lecture to prove that the forgoing film was educational in intent! Total hilarity.
Walnuts. Stoned health food freaks will eat anything. And that night we vowed to open our own pizza joint someday and call it “The Pizza Joint” with a ‘smoking-joint’ logo. Paradise lost I tell ya.
No picture of the art project?
I have a lot of un-memories, but one of the funniest ones that I’ve heard is when my friend blacked out in an elevator talking to 2 people he didn’t know, and woke up face-down still in the elevator with the doors opening and closing on his head….
How many times did you watch the doors open and close on his head before moving him? I would’ve had to watch at least a dozen times, each time funnier than the last.
This thread needs some King Missile:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=byDiILrNbM4
ha that was an old good one!
We used to get sausage and jalapeno pizza but it ended up causing an ass-volcano after we reached a certain age. I was on a “hunt” for my Big Sister Jill when I was a fraternity pledge. The last thing I remember was a half-pint of cherry vodka. The next thing I know, I’m in my underwear in a stranger’s bathroom, cold tile and all. Apparently I had to be carried there.
I’ve never woken up not knowing where I was. Although in one case “where I was” was seated on the crapper with tighty-whities full of puke. Good times.
My most unusual pizza topping was something I had in San Diego called “Thai pizza”. Toppings were chicken, cilantro, red peppers, probably some coconut milk. It was actually delicious, but since I’m from NYC I couldn’t really call it pizza.
I’m normally pretty old-skool when it comes to pizza: sausage belongs there but shrimp and pineapple do not. There is a place near my work that makes fantastic pizzas, some of which feature prosciutto or pears or potatoes as toppings, all sliced paper-thin. All of these work really well, and “feel” to me like proper toppings even though they are not what I’m used to from Carini Bella in Brooklyn.
.
Weird pizza topping? Lettuce.
COOKED LETTUCE.
Sometimes you just want it; other times you really need it…
http://slatest.slate.com/posts/2011/12/20/callin_oates_hotline_goes_viral_719_26_oates.html?from=rss/&wpisrc=newsletter_slatest
jtb
I was in the ski resort town of North Conway, NH. I woke up on the floor covered with a blanket. I was nude and there was a g
nude girl beside me. I sat up and I was in a hotel room between two beds. There were girls in the other beds… I don’t remember a thing from the night before. The girls wanted to go skiing so I taped “my girl” on the back and said I would meet them at the mountain. I pulled the blanket over my head and stayed until they left. Things like this happened to me quite a few times. One morning I woke up with Miss Rhode Island. That was a pleasant supprise. Most wern’t that good looking. Dated her until she figured out I was a drunken ski bum. Things like that is why I don’t partake anymore…
Last I got a twelve pack of Coors and downed the thing in about three hours. I woke up this morning and realized I was still in Hammond Fucking Indiana. I just now bought a case in hopes of a quick release but there seems to be no escape until Monday. I ordered a delivery Pizza Hut (it sucked) last night. It was raining and the only sit-down (Cracker Barrel) is a mile walk…so pizza. I asked if they had walnuts just to fuck with ’em.
…Last night I got….
love those anchovies!
We went to a pizza buffet and they had mac and cheese pizza. Just pizza with mac noodles and cheese on top. Not very good. They also had a cheeseburger pizza which had pickles on it. Hot pickles. Yuck!
We went to two Halloween parties 2 years ago. I slightly remember the first party. Do not remember the second party or coming home. Apparently I was dancing which I have never done in my life. Woke up in the middle of the night very confused. I haven’t really drank after that. Every time I smell alcohol my stomach turns even though I never threw up.
The neighbor lady makes a “Big Boy” pizza, Frisch’s tarter sauce, hamburger, pickles, cheese and lettuce. Sounds disgusting, but tastes like a Frisch’s big boy.
I don’t remember church bells or the money I put down
on the white picket fence and boardwalk of the house at the edge of town