Bathroom Dweller

I was going to a formal, suit and tie dance on Saturday. I went to a liquor party on Friday and got around 2.5 hours of sleep because I was up all night and had to work from 8am - 4pm on Saturday. So naturally, I didn't have time to eat anything all day Saturday except a peanut butter sandwich.

I decided to pregame at my apartment before the dance with my roommates, since they were all going too. We made some mixed drinks; I was drinking vodka/OJ and vodka/7Up. So I drink about a mug (like one you would get at a bar's Mug Night) of vodka before we leave. All the alcohol didn't hit me until we got to the place, which I guess was at some sort of indoor water park? (I didn't pay too much attention to the scenery since I was too busy being hammered)

So, we are just hanging out at the table, and I'm almost falling asleep because alcohol + lack of sleep = bad. I wanted some food.

We get up to get the food, and my drunk-ass goes up to the bartender and says "Is this where....you get the...drinks..for food?" Naturally the bartender is very confused, since the entire buffet line is directly behind me, I'm just too gone to notice. I pile a shitload of food onto my plate because I was starving.

Get back to the table, and I proceed to scarf down my food in a, let's say, Neanderthal manner, and make a mess all over the tablecloth. After dinner, I get tired again (probably because I ate too much) and feel like I'm going to fall asleep. So I decide to get up and walk around and stop in the bathroom.

I get into the bathroom, take a piss in the urinal, and go into the stall. I rested my head on my hands and started to fall asleep. Eventually I got up and LAID DOWN on the bathroom floor! Apparently after about 90 minutes of people wondering where I was, a father walked into the bathroom, saw me (I probably looked like I was dead), notified security, who then came up to people at my dance saying "We have a problem, we have a problem." Keep in mind this whole time I'm wearing a nice suit.

People come in and try to wake me up from my nap on the floor but I just say "Eh!" and keep on sleeping. Eventually, I just get up and walk out of the bathroom like nothing happened. I sat down on a bench and was greeted by the security guard. I apologized a lot and told them "Man, that's not me...I'm sorry". I downed about 7 large cups of water after that, and spent the rest of the night in a drunken state wondering what the hell had just happened to me.

Sorry for scaring many 10-year olds...not sorry for partying.

- Anonymous
Ohio

Happy V-Day from SS4P

Last night I get home from class, drink a few glasses of wine and start feeling sorry for myself that it's going to be another Valentine's day alone for me. I do a little drunken online shopping and don't really remember going to bed. Wake up in the morning with a confirmation e-mail from Tiffany's thanking me for my purchase.

Apparently, I ordered myself a necklace, had it GIFT WRAPPED, and Rushed, so that it would arrive by valentine's day.

Sorry for being a single, lonely mess.

- Anonymous

Cubs, Country... and Called Out

I had a nice little Saturday planned. May of senior year of college, my friends from home had gotten 50 tickets to a Cubs day game, and I was going with 9 girls to the Tim McGraw Faith Hill concert that evening. I knew this would be disastrous, but I was too intent on going to both to care.

Started drinking mimosas alone, made a brass monkey for the solo El ride to Wrigleyville from Evanston, met my friends at Bar Louie for some bloody's and shots, then went to the game. After several beers, I was talking to my guy friend's girlfriend and we were complaining about how cold and rainy it was, and there were no beer vendors, and how we didn't want to have to get up to get more beers. A few of my guy friends said they would get us (me and my friend Joe's* girlfriend) beers if we kissed. Done and done. Her boyfriend gets pissed about this, they begin a huge drunken screaming fest, BREAK UP, and he storms off and she is sobbing.

Now I don't really know this girl, but I invite her back to Evanston with me to go to Chili's for margaritas and a triple play. She takes a nap in my room as I shower and try to sober up for this concert outing which I have organized. After the show, we go to Hogs and Honey's, do the obligatory mechanical bull rides, get picked up and go to Le Passage by some Turkish guys, and head back to a house party in Evanston held by some of our guy friends.

It is here that the story takes a weird turn. At this point it is almost 2 a.m. I have been drinking for 14 hours. So, when I guy that I KNOW knows me calls me out and says, "Hey I know you. You're the girl who always shows her boobs," I lose it in a drunken rage and scream, "Fuck you (insert guy's Full name here). FUCK YOU!"

I get bear hugged and taken to my current guy's apartment where I pass out, and literally black out/sleep walk home. I wake up in the a.m. in my own bed, with a cowboy hat in bed with me from the concert, something unintelligable written on my stomach in eyeliner, and an opened but un-drank miller lite tall boy next to me IN BED.

Sorry.for.trying.to.do.a.cubs.game, a.country.concert, and.a.night.out.

Not.Sorry.For.Partying.

- Jackie

Editor's Note

Hey SS4Per's!

We want to thank you guys for the continued success! If you love SS4P and want to sing it from the internet mountain tops, become our fan on Facebook or add our widget (in the right sidebar) to your MySpace or Blog.

We've gotten a lot of feedback from you, our readers, saying that you're just not into the cringe-inducing, drunken, inhibitionally challenged, detailed hook-up stories. SS4P is all for the readers, so we heard you loud and clear. In the interest of quality over quantity, we'll be reading entries more closely and avoiding those that might make you throw up in your mouth a little.

The best stories are the ridiculous, hilarious and absurd. End up in the drunk tank in a full clown suit? Wake up in London after one too many Jaager bombs in New York? Come home and purchase 2 dozen baby ducks online only to have them delivered to a clueless, sober you several weeks later? Tell us about it.

Keep using the red party cups to rate each entry so we can tell what you guys want more of and what you want less of. Also, feel free to email us at sosorryforpartying@gmail.com if you've got specifics you'd like to share. The blog is for your entertainment, so don't be shy!

Cheers!
- A&B

Adventures of My Alter Ego

For one of my roommate's birthdays last year, we decided to pregame and hit the bars in Lincoln Park. The night began in typical fashion, with a power hour or some other form of belligerent drinking. This also happened to be the last weekend of college, so emotions- and the desire to drown our sorrows- ran high. This clearly translated to my behavior at the bar, as I alternated tequila shots and beer. Of course, I soon blacked out, hence assuming the form of my alter-ego, and spent most of the night invigorating the dance floor my super "sexy" mom-hips routine. From what I've been told, I didn't hang out with anyone I knew and refused any offer to go home with my friends. When the bar was closing and I realized I was all alone, I walked out by myself and totally lost it, sobbing as I walked up Lincoln with my head down and hand up attempting to hail a cab. I finally found one and got in, and the next thing I remember is waking up in the back of the cab to a police officer tapping on the window, still outside the same bar. The cop made me get out and follow his light with my eyes, threatening to take me to the hospital if I couldn't. I've never acted so sober so quickly. I passed the test and was given a ride in the passenger seat of the cop car, all the way back to Evanston, where the cop insisted on walking me into my apartment, waking my roommate, and seeing me to bed.

Not sorry for missing out on an otherwise damn expensive cab ride.

-Anonymous
Chicago, IL

Call The Police... Wait! I AM the Police.

Thanks to the anonymous submitter who sent us this gem of a 911 call from a cop who ate one too many special brownies. To any of you who have never been so high you thought you were dead, we kinda recommend it and kinda don't.



Enjoy!
- A&B

Why I'm So Sorry: The Naked Mile...

During Spring formal of my freshman year, a fraternity brother asked me if I would like to participate in a yearly tradition with some of the guys. The plan was to meet after formal at the rock (a sort of campus monument for the non NUers), take a picture in front of it naked, and then streak up Sheridan Rd. to north campus. - Feel free to make fun of fraternities and their homo-erotic activities...

I decided to join and told my date I would meet her back in the room. We had around 12 or so guys for the picture and a couple of the girlfriends/dates were around to take a few pictures. While running up Sheridan we came across a group of guys that were not amused with us and it seemed as if a fight was going break out. The yelling, however, caught the attention of the police before the fight could start. Before we knew it we were sprinting (still naked) back south down Sheridan with the police car speeding behind us on the sidewalk. Everyone split up some jumping through the bushes, some continuing down the sidewalk, and some running across the street. I ran faster and longer than I ever have in my life (carrying all articles of clothing from my suit mind you) and luckily I evaded the police and made it back to my dorm safely.

Not all of the guys were as lucky. A couple hours later I spoke to one of the two guys that gave up in the chase and were caught by the police. They were cuffed while fully naked in the middle of the sidewalk on Sheridan - with the group of guys that were not amused with us present and shouting and making fun of them. At the moment of arrest some of the girlfriends/dates that were walking up behind us had caught up and were able to get pictures of the arrest. In the police car they asked for their clothes back but the cop said "they should have thought of that earlier" and that he was going to teach them a lesson. They had to sit on a metal bench in the police station completely naked with hands cuffed behind their backs while the officer filled out the forms to give them a $100 fine.

They were not sorry for partying, but they were sorry they weren't as fast as the rest of us...

- Rob
Evanston, IL

Dressed to Impress

After a ridiculous night of big cups and bad pop music at the Keg of Evanston, I woke up in a frat house. I scrambled to get my clothes on and collect my things and get the hell out of there before whoever was next to me (I never looked) woke up.

I texted some friends who were on their way to brunch, so I met up with them and headed to the dining hall. I'm sure I looked pretty awesome in my wrinkled bar top, knotted hair and beer coated jeans. I was standing in the omelette line when something bright pink caught my eye. I look over and there, on the floor in the middle of the crowded dining hall, was my thong which had apparently slipped down and out one of my pant legs.

Sorry for being a skankbag.

- Anonymous
Northwestern University

Exploring Cultural Differences, the SS4P Way

Why I'm so sorry...: I'll begin by saying that I'm Polish, whiter than Wally Cleaver and possess an unhealthy affinity for gin. A potentially lethal combination, as you'll soon find out.

It was the night before/morning of my cousin's wedding, and I had been at the "everyone who wasn't invited to the rehearsal dinner gets drunk" party, which included every member of my family, and I'm certain I shamed them all. Everyone, that is, except my little cousin Timmy, a bright-eyed 10-year-old who I'm sure will grow up to top Wilt Chamberlain (and not in basketball stats,) and my estranged, Obsessive-Compulsive, borderline-Asperger's 17-year-old cousin Davey, both of whom found me quite entertaining, as I'm sure I was, one-and-a-half bottles deep.

As the party winds down, i.e. as I black out, they accompany me back to the hotel where everyone is staying, where also the Williams Family Reunion is staying. In matching t-shirts. So I stumble my way into the elevator, cousins in tow, and join the couple already in there, who I can only describe as Michael Clark Duncan and Rhianna. The details now begin to get hazy, but come into focus on me screaming "HOLLA!" as I'm known to do. Then, in my infinite wisdom, I turn to Mr. Clark Duncan Williams and say, in the most sincere of voices:

"Wait, do you guys still say that?"

SILENCE.

"I mean, I don't know, I only watch Jerry Springer."


My cousins can only describe to me the exchange of silent stares that passed between us as "horrifying."

"I thought I was going to die that night," comments Timmy.

"As did I," offers Davey, "until I saw the sincerity with which you looked at him, and he back at you. I truly expected it to be lights out for all of us. But he just looked at you. And I think, because of the way you said it, and that you didn't laugh, I think- I think you just wanted to know. He just looked at you, and got off the elevator. Only then did you proceed to laugh hysterically and proclaim how awesome you were."

After reading this story to my sister, who is three years my junior, for review/reflection upon times past, she informs me that she was there as well, and after the coast was clear, she "slapped me across the face for putting her in grave danger."

Not as sorry for partying as I am to those who were potentially offended and/or had their lives threatened by this story.

- Anonymous
Evanston, IL

Note to Self: Next Time, Tic Tacs

One morning in college, after what I can only assume was a typically
debaucherous night of partying, I woke up late for class, so I threw
my hair into a ponytail, grabbed a sweatshirt and my books and headed
out. After class I went straight to work for four or so hours, all
the while wondering where the 'minty smell' was coming from. Only as
I was leaving work did I take down my hair and realize I had a huge
wad of gum at the back of my head, which had been there the whole day.
Horrified, I went straight to a friend's house and proceeded to apply
every home remedy I could think of. (FYI: Vegetable Oil dissolves
even day old gum!)

Not sorry for partying, only sorry I needed fresh breath.

- Anonymous
NU, Evanston IL

(picture included after several attempts to remove including ice,
peanutbutter and vegetable oil)

Editor's Note

Hey SS4P'ers!

Great news: Our simple submit form is now available again! This one has been tested and retested, so no more loosing stories into the ether. For now, the form will be housed on a separate page - Submit to SS4P! Submit away and tell your friends to do the same.

If you submitted a story before last Sunday, but you do not see it on the site your story may have been one of the casualties of our old web form. Please resubmit the story and accept our deepest apologies for this whole debacle.

Party on.
- A&B

Naked and Alone

It all started AND ENDED dark.... A buddy of mine and I were making a trip to visit my cousin down @ the University of Illinois during the period known as my senior year of college. We were heading down to catch a concert on a Wednesday which forced us to take a leave of absence from school for that Tuesday AND Wednesday. Now my cousin belongs to a fraternity which I am not the least bit fond of but took the punches regardless. On this particular Tuesday night we caught a four bar barcrawl. The party started with drinks of choice @ the first bar, jello shots @ the second bar, a keg race @ the third bar and all champagne @ the fourth and final bar. By the fourth bar I had tackled a poor girl I was attempting to dance with and my buddy ended up carrying me out of the bar over his shoulder.

(Here's where things border interesting and just plain mind-boggling.)

I woke up the next morning sitting in a shower stall which consisted of about 6 shower heads. I was sitting up on the floor butt-ass naked with some nice hot water running over me. I surveyed my surroundings and realized I had NO idea where I was. I wanted to cry. To make matters worse, my clothes were nowhere to be found. Now mind you, my cousin was a cheese-dick, I mean fraternity brother, and their house was ginormous! This of course meant I had no idea what room he resided in. So I ended up running up and down the halls of about 4 floors butt naked on a school day looking for my cousin. After about 8 people I got the info I was looking for. Found my cuz, my clothes were in the basement wetter than all hell.

I had wet myself, ran upstairs to shower and passed out....I will never be forgotten, or laughed at harder.

Sorry for running up the hot water bill....not sorry for partying.

- Schmieds
Grand Rapids, MI

Superbowl Party Foul

The new guy I'm dating invited me to his buddy's house to watch the Superbowl. I was really excited since he's never introduced me to his friends and I made a dip and bought a Patriots jersey. I had previously bragged about knowing football pretty well and I felt confident I was going to be able to keep up that front.

I was nervous so when the beer came out, I had several so I could loosen up and enjoy the game. By the time the game started, I was pretty toasted and not watching the game very closely. All of a sudden it's the fourth quarter and the Patriots throw into the endzone and the announcers say, "Completion to Randy Moss for a touchdown" or whatever they said. I was shocked, "Randy Moss is black?!"

The whole room went silent. My date looked at me in shock and turned red. The remainder of the game was eerily quiet.

So sorry for partying and out-ing myself as the typical female sports fan.

- Stephanie
Manchester, CT

Editor's Note

Hey Guys,

So turns out our web form hasn't been working since Thursday night. Soo.... yeah. If you submitted stories, we are so sorry, but they are lost in the ether.

We know a whole bunch of people submitted and once you forgive us, we'd love it if you would resend the story to sosorryforpartying@gmail.com.

Again, our bad. We'll have a (working) submission form back up just as soon as we can.

- A&B

What Good is a Trophy (Wife) if You Don't Let Others Enjoy It?

This is the story of the wedding of my 23 yr old friend. I was furious he was getting married at such an early age so I decided to get completely plastered at his wedding. The evening started out wonderfully with a sweet ceremony and lovely dinner. Then the open bar started and I drank like it was last call for four straight hours. I'm guessing I was probably 15 deep at this point.

I decided it would be a good idea to dance with the bride in my drunken stupor. We were dancing pretty well, I think, to some old corny rap song like Sir Mixalot or something. I tried to twirl around the bride but took a misstep onto her dress causing us to both fall down on our asses. This was all caught on tape mind you. The wedding tape that I will forever be a part of. Luckily the bride is nice and was laughing about it as was my friend.

I went back to the bar and grabbed a couple more whiskey shots and went back out to the dance floor. I found this hottie who couldn't have been more than 24. We were dancing closely to this really slow song. I felt sparks fly and I leaned in for the kiss. She, however, didn't feel the same way and shoved me away. The bride's dad came over, grabbed me by the collar and threw me out of the wedding. Security escorted me back to my car. I sat in the driver's seat clearly not able to see let alone drive. So I drunk dialed a bunch of friends until one came to pick me up.

I later found out, the woman I was dancing with was the bride's dad's boss's newly married trophy wife.

So I thought that was pretty sweet. I wish I drank more before I got kicked out.

- Mehran
Chicago, IL

That Would be One Way to Earn Back What You Lost at the Craps Table

Traveled to Vegas for a weekend with a friend from home on my winter break from law school. Needless to say, my tolerance was severely lowered.

After pushing through a severe hangover from the previous night at LAX (yes it was Kristin Cavalleri's birthday, yes I did try to stalk her down by screaming "Kristin!" in the voice she uses to say "Stephen" on Laguna) we decided to spend our last night at Pure at Caesars.

Cut to several vodka red bulls later, and the large group of men who have rented out the entire bottle service/VIP area requesting our presence. Turns out they are in Vegas for a computer software conference and they are all Swedish. I was dancing with a lovely piece of man named Andreas, when his friend asked me if I wanted a drink. From his table. Full of Goose and Cristal.

I was sold.

I spoke to New Guy(who looked suspiciously like the tall blonde terrorist from Die Hard) for 10 minutes or so even though I couldn't understand him due to the accent, and got tired of asking him to repeat himself, so I merely responded "yes" or "I know, right?" to all of his questions.
Finally I started dancing with him, figuring I needed something to cut through the language barrier. At this point he asks me if I am a professional. I know I'm a damn good dancer, and assumes he means some type of dancer.

No.

He was asking if I was a prostitute.

My dad would be so proud.

For a split second, I went through the moral dilemma of, "Hey, if I was gonna sleep with this guy anyway...might as well get paid for it... How much should I charge...What happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas..." before I came to my senses and hightailed it outta there.

Sorry for almost being a whore.
Not sorry for partying.

- Jacqueline
Las Vegas

Sounds Like Near-Castration to Us

Some friends and I went on Spring Break to Panama City last march. I got home one night from an all day drink fest on the beach followed by a 21 Jagerbomb salute at Sharky's night club and realized that I needed to "trim" myself.

I made everyone wake up and requested that some girl a friend of mine had brought home take a before and after picture. So we got the before picture of me in the Captain Morgan pose, and I proceeded to go into the one bathroom the 7 of us had and lather up and go to town on myself with a straight razor.

They tell me that I screamed a few times and they could overhear me telling myself that I was bleeding and how bad it sucked. The next thing I knew I woke up in the floor of the hotel room with no memory of the previous nights activities. The only thing I remember is that when I woke up the first thing out of my mouth was, "Why do I itch?"

There's no shame in my game so I'm not sorry at all!!

- Stew
NC

Sometimes All You Crave is Fourth Meal

After not eating all day, I pregamed with a bottle of wine and a vodka soda. I don't remember the in-between at the bar, but I left around 5am. My feet hurt, so I took off my shoes and walked barefoot around New York City for about 7 blocks, where I happened to stumble upon a just-closed Taco Bell. I pounded on the door until an employee on his way home opened it for me. I insisted I would die if I didn't eat, walked into said Taco Bell (still barefoot) and ordered a quesadilla. I watched the disgruntled employee make me a quesadilla in the dark, ate the quesadilla, and walked home barefoot where pass-out was prompt and painless.

Sorry for partying.

-Anonymous
NYC

Editor's Note

So OK, there have been a lot of Editor's Notes, but cool things keep happening... so bear with us.

Today we'd like to announce the inception of our new rating system! At the end of each post there are now 5 red party cups, available for your clicking pleasure. Let your voice be heard by voting on the awesomeness (or non-awesomeness) of the story. Stories that are highly rated by lots of people (exact metrics TBD) will be added to Best Of SS4P.

So go forth... read, rate and, of course, party!

-A&B