Cops, Cabs...Tomato, Tomahto

One drunken haze of a night, I was out with the guys shortly after I had pledged the frat. After finally realizing I was done for the night, I sideways stumbled outside the door into a car that was parked next to the bar causing the alarm to go off. I looked at it with a puzzled expression and started walking north which I remembered was the general direction of home. I had walked several blocks and felt quite tired. Knowing that I couldn't make it, I decided to take a nap on a senior's porch that I knew. But the porch didn't belong to anyone that I knew, it belonged to some random family. So when these people get home at 11pm or so, they find this drunk dude just snoring loudly on their porch. So being irrational bastards, they call the cops. the wonderful Evanston Police Department who have been so good to me over the years came by to wake me up and ask me some questions.

I got up to answer their questions and promptly fell over telling the story of my night. The cops laughed like fucking hyenas and said I had to leave the premises. but all of a sudden, they get a call for a disturbance on the north side of Evanston. To my luck, I remembered that's where I had to go so the cops drove me home.

not sorry for drinking and i got a free ride home.

- Mehran
Chicago, IL

Drunk Guy Slingshot

We'd like to thank an anonymous submitter for the link to this stellar video. Perhaps you've seen it before but we hadn't and since we laughed and then watched it twice more, we thought we'd share.



Please don't try this at home unless your friends have really really great senses of humor.

- A&B

No Shoes, No Shirt...No Apologies

For senior year Spring Break some friends and I decided to take a road trip down to Key West. After the first few nights I began to get angry because all of the others on the trip had at least one night where they got belligerent drunk and I sacrificed my night to take care of them and deal with their drunk asses.

One of our last nights we stayed in Panama City and I explained it was my turn to get wasted. The night began with some simple hard core pregaming in the hotel rooms. True to my word, I proceeded to get blackout drunk. I'm not sure if my road trip friends were just being lame or didn't want to have to deal with me that night, but they all decided to stay in. This pissed me off, but I tagged along with a few friends from the hotel to make it to the bars.

I don't remember much from the bars. I do remember that my time at the bar came to an end when in the middle of trying to throw some game at a lovely lady, I puked on myself, into the pitcher of beer I was drinking (by myself), and most likely all over the floor.

I ditched my shirt and began my trek home, but I couldn't remember which direction the hotel was. I think I probably turned around several times before convincing myself I was going the right way.

On the walk home I entertained myself by leaving angry, rambling messages for my friends back at the hotel, yelling at random strangers, and swimming naked in several outdoor hotel pools.

When I made it back to the hotel the staff had become aware that we had bribed a hotel employee to sell us wristbands under the table to get into the hotel; we were not officially staying there. After he took my wristband from me, I tried to convince the manager that I was one of my other friends staying in the hotel. This was a bit difficult because I was unaware of his birthday, how to spell his last name (he was Polish or something), and pretty much any other personal info. I gave up after the real kid showed up in the lobby.

I told him not to worry and that I would sleep in my car. He didn't need to get my keys in the room because I had a spare key taped underneath my hood. When I got to the car, the key was gone, my cell phone was dead, I was not allowed back on the hotel grounds, and to top it all off a full-out tropical storm had started.

I decided to take refuge in this tiny wooden shack just outside the parking lot on the edge of a reservoir. The little shack must have been some sort of drainage thing for the reservoir because it was full of pipes and had just enough room for someone to sit on the ground with their knees pulled up. The door did not have a full on latch and would frequently swing open and closed allowing the torrential rain and wind to come pouring in. I spent the next 3-4 hours trying to sleep in my new home.

The next morning brought a tail and interrogation by the police (they had been looking for someone fitting my description who might have been "starting trouble"), after which I sought refuge at a local Waffle House (luckily, I convinced them to ease up on the "no shirt, no shoes, no service" policy).

I spent the night huddled in a shack during a quasi-hurricane...sorry for partying...

- Rob
D.C.


* Editor's Note: When we first posted this story we thought Rob was trying to "play" a game when he puked, not hit on a chick. He wrote in to correct this terrible injustice to this phenomenal story. We bet that lady never forgot him. Sorry Rob! -A&B

A Solid First Impression

Let me just preface this by saying that my roommates and I are all teachers, so we often hit the bottle- and hit it hard- to unwind after a stressful week. So on Friday, my roommate's mom was in town (we'll refer to her as "Jim's" mom), so we decided to have dinner and drinks at our apartment before showing her our favorite night spots. I ended up finishing a bottle of wine, so I was a little loose by the time we got to the bar in the late evening. I took full advantage of the 2-for-1 specials (mostly by ordering double pitchers for myself), but the drinking really stepped up when Jim's mom bought us a round of "Shark Attacks"...essentially huge buckets filled with various liquors.

Soon enough, I was rocking the dance floor (and by dance floor I mean the area near the bar where I chose to start dancing) with a lady friend, whom I dropped and fell on top of at least twice. The bartender, seeing my clear intoxication, offered me a cup of water, which I refused by throwing it across the bar.

My belligerence next inspired me to empty the ice out of a drink bucket to use it as a vessel at the nacho bar (this was, after all, still at the tail end of happy hour), which I proceeded to plow into face first. At this time, I think my roommates- and possibly Jim's mom- decided that it was time for me to go home, so we took off. The entire way home I spent repeatedly yelling out completely fabricated directions to the cab driver as to the location of the nearest In and Out Burger. Whether we made it remains a mystery to me.

Sorry for making a less-than-classy impression on your mom, Jim. But not that sorry.

-Zach
L.A.

Editor's Note

Hey SS4P'ers!

So just a quick word from your sponsors. First, we want to thank you for being stellar and spreading the word on SS4P. Our number of hits yesterday tripled the total number of hits from the previous 3 days!! Keep spreading the word. The more submissions we receive, the more frequently we can post which ultimately means more entertainment and procrastination material for you.

In other news, we've fixed the glitch. http://sosorryforpartying.com now redirects to http://www.sosorryforpartying.com. Turns out it was pretty easy...

So send your stories (with pics if you'd like) into sosorryforpartying@gmail.com or use our simple submit form. We'd love to start including pictures of why you guys are so sorry, so if you've got photographic evidence include it!* We can't wait to see!! :)

- A&B


*A few rules on pics, nothing mean or derogatory (duh). Either blur the faces or use pics that don't have people in them, we're not trying to get sued/ruin political careers here. The pic must illustrate why you're so sorry! If you, for instance, found your underwear floating in a puddle in the middle of the bathroom (ahem... Joe...) snap a pic and send it in with your story.

Bridesmaid Stride of Pride

My older sister got married on a Sunday afternoon. The wedding was a mark of class and elegance... until the reception.

The reception was in a castle out in the country. As soon as I walked in the door I went straight to the bar and got a corona and a shot of Jack. My date was a really close friend of mine. Also, my roommates came and brought their dates as well. Needless to say this reception turned into a Greek function after about 3 rounds or so. To the best of my knowledge I requested "Cotton Eyed Joe" at least 14 times.

Being that my sister is older and was in a sorority, she has always had some hot friends. Between the bottle of wine and the bottle of Jack, I ended up back at the hotel with one of my sisters bridesmaids, completely left my date and friends at the reception.

I woke up to my phone ringing at 8am snuggled up next to the bridesmaid. My dad was calling saying that he noticed that my car had not left the hotel and was wondering where I had stayed. I just explained that I had crashed with someone there at the hotel. Well he informed me that the family was eating breakfast down in the lobby and I should come join.

We walked downstairs together. I walked into a lobby of 40 family members, both mine and my new brother in law's, wearing an unbuttoned tux from the night before; she was wearing gym shorts and my t shirt. My underwear was still in the room because apparently the night before we had some fun in the shower and the floor was soaked... with my underwear floating in the middle.

As soon as we walked in my dad stood up and started the slow clap and of course everyone turned around to see the extremely red face of the poor girl who had taken me home. I, on the other hand, started smiling and gladly said.."thank you, thank you"

It was the best walk of shame/stride of pride i have ever witnessed or been a part of.

She was sorry for partying...not me!!

- Joe
NC

Evidence of the Unknown

One Wednesday morning last fall, I woke up after a night of drinking and found a black plastic comb in bed next to me. That was the only evidence I had of the fact that my friends' sister, visiting for the week, had slept in my bed.

Sorry.

- Anonymous
Michigan State University

Glass in the Ass

Sophomore year, Sunday night, campus bar for dollar u-call-its. I decide to go out for just a few because it's a Sunday night. At the second bar I remind myself it's a Sunday night so I switch to 30 oz. drafts. On the way home i need to take a serious piss. I run between a pizza joint and an apartment building. There is a partial wall blocking the alley on one side so I think I'm in the clear.

I drop my pants, position myself, then lean back against the wall for added support. Turns out the wall is actually a window and I'm a good four feet away from it. Can't catch myself so my fat ass goes crashing through the window. Glass shards in my ass! I start running, trying to pull up my pants, still trying to brush glass shards from my ass. No pain, no blood, just embarrassment.

My ass is sorry for partying.

- Glassy Ass
Chambana, IL

The Time I Stole My Own Car

After the all day pregame of a very spectacular Dave Matthews show, my best friend Dana* and I were completely blacked out. As far as I can reconstruct, here's what happened after we got out of the show.

We got back to my car in the parking lot and decided that neither of us was quite prepared to make the 30 minute or so trek back to our town. In order to kill some time and sober up, we needed food. There was a McDonalds right across the street from our spot, in a direct line of vision, so that's where we headed. We jumped in the car and basically rolled it into the MickeyD's lot.

We came out of our blackouts during the meal and headed back to the concert parking lot to grab the car. We reached the spot were we knew we had parked this morning. No car. Broken glass and a run-over cooler, but no car. "Oh My GOD, someone has stolen my car!"

I found a police in a cruiser, part of the riot force trying to get us all to go home. I desperately and emphatically explained to him that my car was gone and someone had stolen it! He looked at me calmly and goes, "You probably just moved it and forgot." I was ENRAGED.

However, one quick run by the impound lot proved, in fact, that I had moved it and forgotten. When we went to retrieve it the next morning, the impound guy goes, "You seriously don't remember talking to me? I came in to McDonalds and told you you had 15 minutes to move your car and you said that was fine and then gave me your number."

Whoops.
Sorry for partying.

- B of A&B
The Meadows, Hartford, CT

Was I Held Longer Because I'm Asian?

A few years ago, I got drunk and then arrested with my friend, from hereon to be referred to as "Liz Starky." (That's another silly story to be told in another post.) Anyway, we got dragged to a Southside Chicago jail, mind you, after being held at two holding stations in God knows which other parts of Chi-town. In the morning, when I was freed, I asked the lady at the desk, "Is my friend still here?" She says, "Who?" I respond, "Starky, last name's Starky." The nice young lady says, "Oh, you mean white girl? Nah, white girl left an hour ago."

Sorry we're a couple of suburbanites that party like we own da hood.

- CPD Prisoner 88-05678
Southside Chicago

My First Night with Carlo

Freshman year of college, I was introduced to a man that became one of my bestest friends of all time. His name is Carlo Rossi. He is a jug wine, for those that don't know (you should). A particularly large human friend of mine, we'll call him "Plane", informed me that Carlo was to be chugged with great voracity in a circle of death formation of soon-to-be-blacked-out people. So we chugged, and soon after I blacked out. Hard. I remember being at the "deuce", a terrible bar that we NU students venture to that is about 5 miles off campus.

I have about one photograph of memory in the middle of this blackout of me kicking a small sign on a random road (later I found a huge rip in my pants and a sizable gash on my leg) and then removing it and throwing it against a house.

Next thing I know I emerge from blackout in an argument with a gas station attendant at a station that I later found was about 1.5 miles away from this bar. I don't immediately know what I'm arguing about, but soon I realize that I think this car I apparently was just hanging out in was my friends car, and he claims that it is, in fact, his car. I have no idea why I am disputing this, but later I found that while in this man's car, I spoke to one of my friends on the phone, explaining to him that I was in Joe's car, just hanging out, before telling him I had to go because some asshole (the gas station attendant whose car I was maxin and relaxin in) was yelling at me.

So, when it was all said and done, this guy retreated to his little store, promptly called the cops, who showed up and asked me what the hell was wrong with me. I sobered up enough to make up some story that my friend dropped me off and then left, and I thought his car was this guy's, blah blah blah. Clearly they knew I was a drunken fool.....Luckily they let me call my dear friend, Eriko, who awoke at 4 AM to come pick me up. She then drove me home and found the next day that she got a parking ticket.

I am not sorry for any of this. It was amazing, there were no consequences (for me at least), and it began a long standing relationship with my boy Carlo which would come to produce many other hilarious stories.

- Jamie
Outskirts of Chi

Editor's Pick

Tonight I'm binge drinking alone in my apartment and reading SS4P.

Sorry.

- Anonymous
Minneapolis, MN

Classier Than Any of the Dates We've Ever Been On

One night last fall, I went to a Thursday night open bar with my friends and, trying to get my money's worth, ended up pretty blacked out by the end of the night. So much so, that I convinced my friends that I was okay staying by myself to rock out to the Sublime cover band. Anyway, I took a solo cab ride back home, whereupon I asked the cabbie to stop a few blocks short of my apartment so that I might get a burrito...but not before inviting him to join me.

The cabbie promptly accepted my offer, pulled the cab over, and we went to Burrito Mexicana, where I proceeded to buy us both delicious burritos. Of course, the only appropriate way to eat burritos with your cab driver is whilst both sporting folding paper hats, provided by Burrito Mexicana. So there we sat in our dingy booth, wearing paper hats and smiling at each other over steak and cheese burritos.

When we finished, he dropped me off at home, where I proceeded to pass out in full outfit minus pants.

I tell you who's not sorry. The cab driver who got a free burrito.

-Anonymous
Chicago

We Thought This Only Happened in the Movies

I'm so sorry because one New Years as a freshman in college, I literally chugged Raspberry Smirnoff as a pre-game. The next morning I woke up in a strange apartment.

With my underwear around my head.

So Sorry for Partying.

- Anonymous
Chi-Town

Might the Story Have Ended Differently After a Few More Drinks?

I was out with my friends one night bar hopping all over the city. We were having a hell of a time getting into this club in the West Village and my friends just decided to call it a night. Not me, I was out to party. I dumped them in a cab and continued on my own, determined to have an amazing night.

I noticed my funds were running low so I wandered away from the club door to find an ATM. Suddenly I realized I'm being tailed. I get to the ATM and the guy stops just about 15 ft behind me. As I'm withdrawing my cash he says, real hushed, "You want some head? $30 bucks and I'll suck your dick."

Our haze of inebriation kept us from noticing that the club we were trying so hard to get into was actually a gay bar, surrounded by a gaggle of male prostitutes. Since I'd been so determined to get in there and come back without friends, this guy thought I was gay, looking for loving and was purposefully leading him to a more private location. It took me 15 more minutes to convince him that I did not, in fact, want head.

Sorry for partying away my gay-dar.

- Matthew
West Village, New York City

A Sober Man's Thoughts...

My friend broke the news to us that he had proposed to his heinous bitch of a girlfriend one night at the bar. We were several deep. My immediate response? "That's so stupid it's awesome."

Me:0, Alcohol:1.

Sorry for partying.

- T.M.
Wicker Park, Chicago

Editor's Note

Hey SS4P readers!

Looks like we finally figured out our internets enough to get that submission form thingy up. Now you can submit your stories two ways! Sosorryforpartying@gmail will still be up if you have a long story you'd rather write out in email, and the submission form is great for short stories or one line zingers.

Next project? Getting sosorryforpartying.com to redirect to www.sosorryforpartying.com. Don't know what's up with that, but if you have any advice, send it our way and make sure your bookmarks and the links you send your friends have the www's for now.

I know what you're thinking, What is this, amateur hour?? And the answer is, yeah kinda. College and anything we might have learned there about cyberspace is kinda a blur.

Sorry for Partying.

-A&B

Naked Ninja

One halloween in college, while my friends decided to go with a more conventional group costume of "sexy pirates" I decided to go with a ninja costume. Not sexy, just a ninja. Really I just wanted to have a bunch of weapons and boy were they cool. Daggers and nunchucks and a sword across my back, it was awesome.

The night started with massive Franzia chugging on the bus (I must have slapped that bitch over a dozen times). I recall doing some soco limes at the bar, and by soco lime they meant a full shot of soco and a quarter slice of lime. I have no idea how many of those I took.

According to photographic evidence, during the course of the evening I slowly lost all my weapons, my hair came down, and my costume disintegrated. The guy I was "talking to" at the time was wearing a wig that I apparently did not like because I threw it out a bus window.

The real magic however was the next morning. I was "recomposing" myself, and aforementioned guy and I could not find my shirt anywhere. We tore his very small room apart looking for it, until I turned around and saw him looking out his top floor window which happened to be open.

My shirt was down in the alley in a puddle.

Sorry for partying and sorry I never returned that shirt I borrowed for the walk home.

- Ninja (non-sexy variety)
Northwestern University

I made a one-night stand into a fugitive

On Halloween one year, I dressed in the itty bittiest French maid costume known to man and went out on the prowl. I found a man and one thing led to another led to blackout.

The next morning, we woke up late and my one night stand had a soccer game to coach that morning, but I made him drive me home because I had lost my purse (wallet, phone, keys, everything: gone.) the night before. He was speeding to get me home, going 75 mph down Golf Rd (speed limit 35) in a black Durango.

We get pulled over and turns out he was speeding by so much that it's not even citation-range; he gets a court date. Well, the dude was British and his work visa was up in a week. He called to say he was leaving the country never to return.

Sorry for partying so hard that permanent banishment is a fair price to pay.

Cheers

- Anonymous
Northwestern University

Branded

The first time I ever really got into hard alcohol, I woke up with "I love pussy 2" written on my forehead.

I never found out who "I love pussy 1" was.

So Sorry for Partying :)

- Erica
A couch in CT

Wedding, Wasted.

A few months back, I woke up one weeknight-- barely a few hours before I had to wake up for work-- to a drunk dial from a guy I only sort-of-knew in college. We'll call him Joe. He was best known for passing out at a party naked wrapped in an American flag, and getting pretty marked up as it was early in the evening. Also for his love of shot-gunning Beast Light.

Anyway Joe was looking for no-pressure date for a wedding, and a mutual friend had recommended me as the only girl he knew who could hang with Joe in drinking, a tremendous compliment to be sure. I was flattered, and to Joe's great surprise accepted the offer right away. He was so blasted that it took me several times to explain to him that I'd go.

Since it was no-pressure, a non-date, and I didn't know anyone at the wedding I decided against taking it easy and started right on the whiskey at the open bar. From the various flashes I actually remember there was some dancing and singing to "Perfect Country Western Song" by David Allen Coe, while he fist-pumped furiously and later did the worm.

On the way back to our room at the hotel I had to dash out of the elevator to throw up on a pile of dirty towels outside a room. Then I gave him the stiff-arm of a lifetime to get him out of the way of the bathroom, where I threw up again mightily. Of course, our ride home was a run-down Jeep with no muffler or shocks. Worst ride EVER.

We pretty much laughed the whole thing off, and I think my reputation as a heavy drinker is pretty much solidified. All in all the caliber of the story outweighs the hangover and residual embarrassment.

Not sorry.

-Anonymous

Hello? This is Your Drunk Self Calling.

At my first Holiday party at XYZ Firm, after blacking out after oh, say 3 beers or so (i suck) and I ended up in the men's bathroom (I'm female). I proceeded to charge 2 bacon onion cheeseburgers on a Partner's tab. And promptly ran out to go karaoke at 4am with some 'new friends.'

The next day I showed up at work, puked a solid 6 times between 9:30am and 11:30am then stopped counting. I slept under my desk using my coat as a blanket and waking only to find my boss's boss looking down at me.

Then I discovered a voicemail on my phone, from myself calling from last night's 'new friend's' number saying, 'You hooked up w this dude. I'm leaving this voicemail as evidence cause I know you wont remember tomorrow.'

sorry.for.partying

-Anonymous

Our (Double) Vision

Born out of intense boredom, Sorry For Partying aims to bring you the best/worst tales of drunken stupor from people just like you from all over the world. We know you’re too embarrassed to tell your friends that you peed on your girlfriend’s bookshelf last night. We know you’ll never live down falling down an entire flight of stairs in a haze of alcohol on a first date. We know. And we salute you.

Send us your tales of embarrassment and woe. Send us your stories of drunken valor and integrity. Hell we don’t care, if it’s about drunk people we’ll probably post it.

Join us in our quest to never grow up and provide hours of mindless entertainment on the web. Send all stories to sosorryforpartying@gmail.com, until we figure out how to get that submission form thing-a-ma-jigger up and running.

Cheers!
-A&B-

* If you include pictures of the mayhem we’ll post ‘em, but only if they are non-incriminating/derogatory/cruel.

The Pre-Game

Send your stories! Alert your friends! A new site to read instead of working/studying/spending time with your families.

Sorry For Partying will be up and running soon for your procrastination and entertainment with an actual submission form. In the meantime, if you’d like to get the ball rolling and send us your awesome/shameful/hilarious drunken mishap stories, you can submit by emailing sosorryforpartying@gmail.com. Let the cringe-inducing drunken tales begin.

Until we actually have fun stuff for you to read, feast your eyes upon this stunning example of what not to do at the holiday Christmas party.

Note on Jim's desk Monday morning? "Sorry for partying. - Drunk Chick"