Very little to tell, I guess. about drunk stuff. I haven't gotten drunk too much. But, quasi-related - - while totally sober and 'straight,' on numerous occasions I've been asked by others, "What are you on? I want some!"
Tumor Bob jumped off the upper deck at the Rod and Gun tavern figuring 2 plastic grocery bags would work like a parachute - luckily he wasn't hurt badly. ( Tumor Bob is his nic-name because people usally don't like him at first but he grows on you). Cheers!
I'm liquids adventure boy and boy has it been said. He said, "There you go looking for liquids again?" ?
This post was edited by Benedict Arnold at July 8, 2019 10:34 AM MDT
Oh not. Whatever you got, I can beat it by actually having done it myself or being privy to someone who even beat what I did.
So, don't even try.
First story. I was in a rehab and this girl tells us that when she drank, she had a boyfriend who ran a ranch where there were Mexican illegals picking grapes and she would get drunk and go into the barn and have sex with all of them for their paychecks.
She would screw the workers and there were about 30 of them. And get their paychecks.
OH you can ask anything about it. If I can remember it, I'll tell you. But, in short, this girl was sharing her life with a group in rehab and I did know her for about a month I think. I really felt for this girl. She was not obnoxious as I recall. She was young and looked twice her age (big surprise there) and she was trying to stay sober. She shared this story and told it like it was just like everyone else's story.
No one there in that room agreed with her. We were all shocked and could not believe she was alive to tell about it. I cannot believe some guy did not kill her and rob her since she was in effect robbing everyone.
The more I drink...The goofier and gayer I get. Betcha' y'all didn't think that was even possible did ya? But don't ask...I ain't spillin' any drinks or any secrets on the main board right now.
...So many to choose from. I can't even begin to count the ways! O.k. Here's one you'll get a kick out of. Way back in my 17-year-old wisdom, I worked at a bar, illegally, of course. It was a popular bar with the music crowd in Nashville. People would come in for Happy Hour and stay for hours, happily. Many friendships were made and old accquaintances were found. The rooms were always filled with laughter and festivities. Like a four-leaf clover, all the rooms were open to the band and the dance floor. The tables made the perimeter of the dance floor. This bar wasn't big but big enough to have a lively crowd and great bands. I think it sat 125 but we easily exceeded that on Friday and Saturday nights. On this one Friday night we were running a Happy Hour Special on "Upside Down Margaritas." If you've never had one, please allow me explain. This is when your cocktail waitress, comes to your table with a lime, a shaker of salt, a bottle of tequila, and sweet/sour mix. She stands behind your chair. Your job is to lick your hand, pour the salt, lick the salt off your hand and tilt your head back into her chest or chest area. She pours the tequila straight into your mouth with a splash of sweet and sour. You swallow and bite the lime. Taa-Daa! Your "upside down margarita!" They really were quite popular.
On this particular Friday night, I had served many and was about the get off my shift. My boyfriend also worked there as a bartender. He was about to get off his shift as well. Before he did, we decided to do a few ourselves. It was o.k. We could drink on the job as long as we didn't get sloshed. So, we had a few and a few more. We finished our shifts and decided to stay. We laughed and had fun with the regulars for a couple more hours. At his point I'm fazing in and out of the black zone. I weigh about 110 and at that time, probably less. But hey, I was a professional and could drink any big man under the table.... HA! (Or so I thought.) I worked in heels. Something I would never do now but back then, I had to walk the walk. Remember, I was 17 trying to pull off 22. We didn't have uniforms but we all, pretty much, dressed the same. I was in a short black mini skirt, a snug, v-necked, white, t-shirt, tied at the bottom, a thong, a bra, and black pumps. My boyfriend and I were in the back room and he pulled out some mushrooms one of the regulars had given him as a tip. I had never done mushrooms. He had but knew very little about them. We decided now would be a good time to give them a try.
The treacherous beauty of innocence.
With decision made, we ate a few and went on our merry way back into the bar. We didn't think this might NOT have been a good idea, since we DID work there and many of our friends, co-workers, and regulars would be there, too.
The music had started and the air was filled with amazing energy. As we filed through the people, more tequila shots were ordered and things seemed normal. More normal than it should have been. I had already done plenty of upside down margaritas and had eaten some mushrooms. What was wrong? Had the mushrooms killed my buzz? This was Bunk! What a let down. I went to my boyfriend and told him of my dismay. He took me to the men's room to comfort me. And comfort me he did. Up went my skirt, thong pushed aside and things were all of the sudden much better in the men's bathroom at our bar. "Smiles! Smiles Everyone!" As Mr. Roark would say from Fantasy Island. Yes. Everything felt better and everything was VERY Good. We were laughing at what we had just done. All the while, men were coming in and out of the bathroom. It wasn't a big bathroom. There was only one stall which we were accompanying but that made it even funnier.
The walls began to move in a very cool way and were very bright by the light in the bathroom. Smiles and giggles were almost unbearable. Everything was was hilarious.
As I pulled down my skirt, I began to remember I worked there and thought I was a dancer. And dancing was what I intended to do. My boyfriend went to order us more drinks. I strutted straight into the crowd. The music was playing and people were dancing and I pranced right through them. I was on a mission and pushed a two tables together. People were sitting at these tables with drinks but that didn't matter. They didn't mind. I was there to work. I slinked on these tables and slithered up to a stance ready to perform my dance. And dance I did. A dance like no other. I played with my hair and let it toss on my shoulders. Teasingly, I untied my snug, white t-shirt, and pulled in over my hair. I let it drift to the guy with his eyes open wide. I undid my bra and swung it around while the band had tuned it's music to a strip-club affair. I kicked up my leg and took off a heel, drew it to my lips and let it fall to the table. By this time, the crowd had turned its attention my way which called my boyfriend to notice as well. As I began to slowly pull my skirt down on one side, he jumped in front of the others and coaxed me down.
I remember walking home. We only lived 2 miles away but in the heels, that night, it seemed like forever. Had we walked to and from work like this every night? Why did I do it in these heels? The thought of me doing a strip-tease at my place of employment, in front of 125+ people, including my boss, regulars and friends didn't seem odd.
What seemed to be my biggest concern was why did I walk, in these heels, 4 miles round trip and then work in them for 6 hours on top of it.
When we arrived home, getting up the rod-iron stairs didn't seem like it was going to be possible. We sat at the bottom for a while trying to figure out how we had done it so many times before. After Lord knows how long, one of us thought, maybe I should take them off. Brilliant! We concluded our adventerous, "Upside Down Margaritas, with a hint of mushrooms" night by playing a game of chess.
And that, within itself, was yet another exciting trip.
This post was edited by Merlin at July 8, 2019 1:06 PM MDT
Benedict Arnold 