It's a draw. I think Richard and I take turns being each others trophy friend.

I've been SERIOUS drunk a few times, but never to the level of them poor bastaads in those pics...

Gave it up in Jan 2006, and don't miss it one little bit. (There are better options, ya know? )

ISO

Years ago late at night........Girlfriend, Tony, and I pull up to the apartment in girlfriend's car HAMMERED. Tony can't get out of the backseat of the car. We say F him and leave him there.

About a half hour later girlfriend say's let's check him out. We look in the back seat and there is Tony kneeling on the floorboard and peeing on the door like he is in a urinal. Girlfriend opens door, grabs him by the shirt and throws his ass out onto the parking lot while he is still peeing. I was sure his d!ck got road rash.

Don't remember much else except he took the car the next day to clean it.

When I was 17 and drinking and driving was just starting to become "unfashionable," I borrowed my parents Buick Regal one Friday night. This was the day after it came out of the shop from my sister wrecking it, so my dad reluctantly handed me the keys and said, "PLEASE, be carefull." I said, ok, and promply hopped in the car and went to pick up a friend, his slutty cousin and a bunch of beer.

Two hours later the three of us were hammered, driving around down by Beach Drive in Port Orchard. I pulled up to a stop sign, looked both ways and turned left onto a side street when slutty cousin puts her hand in my lap. So I mashed down on the gas to impress her with a possi burn and lost control of the vehicle. We hit a parked car on the left side of the road and I hit the windshield so hard I knocked the car into reverse and passed-out with my foot on the throttle, backed up the street and hit about 35 miles an hour in reverse before backing into a parked car on the right side of the road, knocking it out of park, so it rolled down someone's front yard into their house.

When I came to a few minutes after the fact their were people standing in all the front yards looking, while I rolled out onto the street and started puking amoungst the broken glass and plastic strewn all over the asphalt. About this time a Sherriff rolls up, walks over to me and says, "I'm not even going to write you up on the drinking charge, you're in enough trouble."

The part that sucked the worst was asking someone if I could use their phone, calling my dad, and telling him I just totaled the family car.

Beat that.

Great story Sol, over the top

We lived in a victorian house in B'ham back in the late '70's. One night about 2:30 am, a guy I'd worked with was knocking on our door. It was raining sideways, he was drunk and his ride had left him in town and he had no way to get home to Deming. So I let him crash on the couch.
We had the typical high ceilings and we had two big speakers on top of some milk cartons on each side of the stereo.
Abnout 4:00 am, I woke up when I heard him crashing around. I went out to the living room and he was pissing on my speakers. He lived in the woods and would go out to piss on his trees. He thought he was in his own front yard. I threw him back out in the rain. Never saw him again.

I don't know about topping it but in 2001 a friend and were in Copenhagen on our way North. We started our day, innocently enough, dropping off some laundry that was promised to be finished before closing (5:00 pm) so that we could catch the early train out of town.

We decided to hit Pusher Street and ate a handful of hot dogs and give ourselves the worst case of cotton mouth in history. That basically required that we go find a bar somewhere that served Guinness and Tequila, the mainstay of our diet at the time. We found a bar on a real touristy pier, families and kids walking around looking at boats tied up and shopping in the boutiques. But also a bar that suited us. We proceed to start drinking and meet another guy claiming to have more alcohol, for free, on his beautiful 33' nordic type sailboat. So we decided to be cheap and go listen to old Husker Du cassettes for the free booze and proceeded to get all kinds of drunk. A couple or few hours of this and the Captain and I are taking turns puking off the aft deck while the tourists and their children pointed at us and spoke in some jibberish I couldn't understand. Feeling like I was forgetting something I check my watch and see that it's 4:55 and we are on the opposite side of town from our laundry, so we just up and bolt, before the captain can shanghai us, leaving him sitting there to forever question the lyrics we were translating to him on his favorite Husker Du tape.

We're running across town, now the cottonmouths so bad, my gums are bleeding and we realize there's no way we're gonna get our clothes on time so my buddy decides it may speed us or at least help to start a long string of loud obscenities.

We arrive at the laundry at 5:20, doors locked, our clothes clean and stacked nice on the counter behind the register. Gordy is now walking in circles in the middle of the street like he has mad cow disease and is getting more colorful and adding more gain to the obscenities and begiining to loose his hot daogs finally, in the most violent and public matter. Some people are gathering to look as Gordy goes on with his episode. I take a good look at the lock and decide that I can break in without hurting anything. So I grab the old trusty driver's license, as drunk as I can be and still remember anything, and pop the lock on the laundry. "Gordy, I'm in!!!" WE bum rush and find our sh*t and run like hell before any bystanders can grab us.

Needless to say, we went straight to the hotel, got what was left and headed for Grand Central, never looking back and not letting out our sigh of relief until we were on a ferry headed for Oslo. Whew, missed another international incident, would've been hard to explain to my family why I needed someone to bail me out of a Copenhagen jail. We tread a little lighter after that.

Boxing Day 1984 Vancover B.C., Me and 2 friends adventure to the Great White North for bands,babes and booze. At the end of the night I'm doing my BEST to hold the table up, when I notice the dance floor is moving towards the front door. It comes to my attention that the crowd is not dancing but it's my bud's going to blows with some Canadians..By the time I get out the door the fist-a-cuffs has blown over, but I'm ready to go. The 3 of us start walking back to the truck and I decide Canada sucks and I'm going to start breakin shait. So I put my fist thru a bus stop window and continue towards the truck. My hand was split wide open.Upon reaching the truck this HAND grabs my shoulder and said where do you think your going. It's a Cop who watch the whole thing go down from across the street from the bar. Shiat. The man said your coming with me. Into the drunk wagon I go. Blood flowin everywhere. 1st stop hospital. In the middle of my hand being stitched up some poor bastard comes in with a heart attack. Everybody leaves me to care for him and I start bitching about my hand not being done F*** that guy he's dead. Then,in my drunken state I think it's a good time to leave Canada. My escape from the hospital was short lived.Wham hand back on my shoulder with the same response. Where do you think your going. Shiat. They finish my hand and back to the drunk wagon. It dawns on me on the walk back to the Wagon , my rights were not read to me. So I decided to tell them all how stupid they are. "Son your in Canada you have know rights" Shiat. Off to jail I go. Thats where I'm reunited with one of my buddies I started the night with, seems Canadians are not to hip with Idea of controled substances. We spend the morning in jail and are released into ChinaTown B.C. Return safely to the U.S.A . Not to drink in Canada again.

LMAO.....

You qualify to be my second trophy friend. There's room on the shelf right next to Addicted.

I have nothing that even comes close. I do kinda remember one time going into a popular bar having one to many cocktails smarting off to the bouncer and thinking I could stagger in and disappear into the crowd. Like that was going to happen. He and another bouncer buddy physically picked me up and threw me through the swinging bar doors. I flew through the air hitting the pavement chest first bleeding, torn clothes, drunken mess waiting for the friends I went to the bar with to come back out. Not something I am proud of happened a long time ago in a place far far away..

New Years eve way back in 1974 I'm living in a little town about 20 miles north of Boise Idaho. A friend had a band and was playing at a little place just out of McCall Idaho. So a friend and I head up there, it's about 100 miles and the temp is around 0. We are sipping a fifth of Canadian Mist and stop on the snow and ice covered road to piss and it's like being on ice skates. I slide about 6 feet while I'm pissing and don't fall until my pants are zipped. We finally get to the place where the band is playing and have a hell of a good time. After the band is down we end up at this places hot springs swimming pool. At 0 degrees the fog over the pool is thick, lots of naked bodies. I wake up a little confused in the morning because I find myself hanging onto the side of that pool all prune like. Lucky to be alive but not cold. I have a vague memory of slipping off from the side a couple of times!!

Central Washington University 1978. A typical Saturday, my buddies and I play basketball for 6 hours then take a cooler of beer and some chairs into the dorm shower and spend an hour "hydrating" Miller's while planning our quest for ladies later that night. Now it's Black Velvet time with beer chasers(old English 800). It's about 9 pm and I'm hammered. My buddy and I pick up two gals at a party on the third floor of the dorm. We decide to go downtown for what else? More booze. At the top of the third stairway, my buddy is showing off for his new gal and clears the entire flight of stairs with one hand. I walk down to the next flight and not to be outdone......announce that I will clear the entire flight of stairs with NO hands. A giant leap for drunken mankind.

I didn't notice that on the third floor is there is a high ceiling. On the second floor there is a concrete beam just 8 feet above the bottom step. I leap, I hit it, I'm down flat on my back. My friend thought I was dead. It didn't knock me out, but cut the top of my head. I jumped up, the blood came running down my forehead. Went to the infirmary for some stitches and actually went out dancing later on. It's tough being Irish.

Snake

Not even close. All things in moderation. Funny how the meaning of moderation changes with time. Back in the 60s I had a thing for rum. Being a rightous hillbilly and generally lacking in the slightest bit of worldliness, having a thing for rum seemed pretty darn sophisticated. (I grew up just down the road from Irish Malamphy, the local moonshiner.) Since it was the night before graduation, it had been a very busy day. My buddy and I had a contact who worked at the Yelm liquor store, so we had taken orders from our classmates and filled the trunk of his souped up Falcon Sprint with enough booze to inebriate half the class of '67 and their dates - which explains the many bottles of Southern Comfort (a more wretched example of liquor has never been made).

Handling all that cash made me nervous. It was more than I'd paid for my Nasau blue '55 Chevy. Our job was half done, having traded a bunch of money for more booze than I'd ever seen outside of a store - Wild Turkey, Bourbon Supreme, Jack Daniels (the rich kid I guess), Canadian Club, Seagram's 7, Smirnoff and Popov vodka, the previously mentioned S. Comfort, and a few fifths of Bacardi rum. And because I had an important job in this endeavor, a pint of Bacardi cuz I thought I'd have a chance to get an early start on my graduation celebration. After I had a good buzz going, my buddy and I realized we hadn't had dinner and shouldn't show up at home after we'd started drinking. So we went to the Bucoda Tavern, the closest one we could get in, being 18 and all.

We had some yucky pickled tavern food and sandwiches along with a few schooners, when one of the guys at the pool table wanted to pick a fight with me. I have no idea why I might have looked like an easy mark; just my lucky day. I mumbled on about mistaken Identity, since I was growing more confused by the schooner that didn't mix well with rum and pickled sausages and eggs, . . . or the bag of candy I found in the glove box of Denny's car. Somehow it came out that I had to invest a quarter in the table and play a game of pool with this guy. Let the record show that I've probably won less than a half dozen games of pool in my life, but I practically ran the table and won this game, even though I was needing the table in order to stand up at this point. The details are lost to memory, but having fed ourselves we left the tavern, and drove out to the cattails, the local drag racing strip where I heaved my guts out a time or two. Since I was feeling kinda' sick from the bad food, I drank the rest of the pint of rum and fell asleep as far as I know.

Neither Denny nor I remember how it happened. But graduation rehearsal was at 10 AM the next morning. I was there plenty early, having awakened laying on the grass in the "key", a keyhole-shaped grassy area with flowers around the school flag pole that all the school buses and cars drive around in front of the school to drop off the students. Somehow all the under-class students had ridden in and got off the buses without me being aware of it. (We seniors had finished a few days earlier.) Denny's car was parked over in the student parking area. He and a couple classmates picked me up and propped me up in the line just in time to march in and rehearse our high school graduation.

A quick lunch at the Jiffy Cafe and trip home to clean up and we had to get back to school. We parked over near the shop class near the football field and waited and checked off as one classmate after another came by to pick up their order. I had it all down on paper, and we delivered every bottle promised, wished each other well, and joked about how the parking lot was going to be busier than the dance floor at that night's graduation party. I drank only moderately the rest of the day. My plans still went awry over the course of the evening however. In spite of my best planning for graduation, I got too drunk to get laid again that night. And sorta' lost my thing for rum for about 10 years.

So the answer is no, I have never been near that drunk.

I'm betting Bob stared in a show or two before he retired the bottle.

My brother got up in the middle of the night when we were Abalone diving below Mendocino in our cabin . he was pretty drunk and didn't make it to the bathroom , the room was dark and he started pissin' in the closet ( he thought it was the toilet) then I heard our friend and his wife yelling at him " Tom stop pissing on us!" So now everytime they go to his house they wear rainsuits and rubber boots!!

I'm staying out of this one. I dont even want to go there...........

Once I was drunk.....and nothing happened.


Another time I was drunk......and I don't remember what happened.



Another time after that, I was drun, and a lot of crazy stuff happened.

"I wake up a little confused in the morning because I find myself hanging onto the side of that pool all prune like. "

Jerry - it's a good thing you woke up. Every few years there's a story in the wierd news section about somebody that nods off in a hot tub and they're just soup in the morning.

I figure the less people know about all the stupid & crazy things I've done while hammered, the better.

Besides, statutes of limitation aren't up on some of em.

Rico was drun.

If JG ever simmers too long in a hot tub, I think it'd be more like chili than soup.