Last time I ever drank, it was an entire bottle of Colt 45 and a whole bottle of tequila that was so cheap, the cap was a screw-off red plastic sombrero.
I woke up in jail with cuts and bruises all over my face and charges of assaulting two police officers. I have no idea whether I’d assaulted them or not, because I’d blacked out. That was when I realized that I should never drink again.
One night at a frat party, a brother brought up a handle of Cuervo and hot sauce. He had us take shots with hot sauce in them. Thanks Teddy. Thanks a lot. A lot of empty stomachs that night.
I was in Chicago this year for my birthday in March when I met a girl from Belgium at my hostel. We became friends immediately and she begged me to go to a tequila bar with her where she was meeting up with a Couchsurfer from Austria for drinks and didn’t want to go alone. So we go to this bar, meet up with the dude who was totally chill (not a psycho/serial killer), and order a pitcher of margaritas. A couple pitchers and shots later I’m drunk, it’s about to be midnight (my birthday), and I see a text from my ex. We had broken up last fall and it was a very messy breakup. Even though he was a cheating asshole I still maintained contact with him after the breakup. It was hard for me to let go. Since the breakup I had put up with a lot of shit from him, mostly him just being selfish and me playing the role of the caretaker/forgiver/whatever. (I’m an idiot, I know).
I forget what he texted me but whatever it was it was enough for me to decide I wasn’t going to deal with this anymore. I tried calling him. He didn’t respond, which was typical. Drunk on tequila and completely enraged I got back to my hostel and emailed him (emailed!! so you know I meant business) a very detailed, lengthy email telling him telling him what a piece of shit he was, how I thought everything he ever told me about himself and his supposed illness (he used to pretend to have heart problems to get out of confrontation – no joke), was total bullshit, and that I never wanted to hear from him again.
I woke up the next day, saw the email, and was honestly surprised at how mean I was. I said some really nasty, cruel hearted things I don’t think I would have ever said sober. I felt really bad. Even if he probably deserved hearing what I really thought and felt I didn’t like that I got to that level. Tequila usually doesn’t make me mean but it definitely makes me more truthful than any other liquor.
New Year’s Eve 2008. I puked under the table at the bar and then walked 10 blocks to a friends house where I removed my pants and puked in her bed. In the morning I wandered around her apartment naked for a solid five minutes before realizing my guy friend was on the couch, staring at me in shock. (I’m a girl).
OK this wasn’t me, but at beach week when I was like 18 my friend drank like 10 shots of tequila and vomited an entire pack of double stuff oreos on my friend’s mattress, and he proceeded to sleep on it anyway cause he was so drunk. It was like black and white spotted, so gross.
Oh man. Looking at my bank’s website the next day and realizing I was charged $197 for all the shots I bought for people around me after I got wasted on tequila. This was when I was right out of college and I was making $11 and hour at my entry-level, full-time job.
You know the saying “tequila makes your clothes come off?” It’s literally true for me. It’s why I can’t drink it. Every time I do tequila shots I wake up naked. There are naked photos of me at parties. I’m so embarrassed.
I was at a hotel party with my friends and we were drinking UV blue when we were pregaming (yes, we were like 19). The guys at the hotel party didn’t have vodka though, so we did tequila shots with them. My friend immediately, and I mean immediately, vomited blue colored vomit all over the white hotel bed. The guys were pissed and yelling and I took her into the bathroom to clean her up and since it was next to the door we just ran away.
There was a shy girl at my office who was around my same age. She was really shy and conservative and we were friendly but not really friends. On her birthday and I asked her what her plans were and she didn’t have any, so I invited her on a regular night out drinking and dancing with my girls. Surprisingly, she said yes. She didn’t usually drink so I was kind of worried that she was trying to keep up with me and my friends but I wasn’t going to parent her, it was her choice. Welp. This quiet, conservative girl ended up on the dance floor with her tank top pulled underneath her bra asking every single guy if he wanted to motorboat her. We never talked about it again either because she doesn’t remember or because she’s too embarrassed.
My boyfriend really wanted to try anal and I didn’t want to and had never done it before. I was drunk on tequila and I told him to go for it. The next day I had to go to the doctor and tell him I was bleeding from my asshole.
Happened to both me and my friend in the same night. We were at a big bonfire with friends of friends in college. It was summer and none of our friends stayed in town so we were scraping the bottom of the friend barrel, we barely knew these people. Well, I was drunk and watching some guy try to jump over a couch that someone had thrown on the fire when I hear screaming. My friend is in this guys house screaming at him because he was being lewd towards her (and she was drunk and kinda belligerent). So my friend starts hitting this guy and he starts screaming and his friends are screaming at me. I think everyone involved is blacked out. Well I force my friend into the car and drive us home. I wasn’t planning to drive that night since we were invited to spend the night and it was out in the country where there aren’t taxis. It took me hours to find my car in the morning on campus because I wasn’t even sure where I parked it. I was so angry with myself for driving like that and my friend was really upset about what could have happened. We agreed we couldn’t both be drunk messes at the same time from then on.
I puked on my boyfriend’s dick.
At my last job my boss and I did tequila shots at the holiday party. I woke up with him in my bed. He is married.
I grew up really close with the guy who lived next door to me. We’ve been friends since I moved there in 4th grade. Well, unfortunately in high school my parents decided to tell me a secret about his family, that his dad isn’t his real dad and his parents both know but never told him. I’m not sure why they told my parents this. I was pissed they told me because I don’t like secrets and of course they said I could never tell him. I kept this secret for four years until one night we were taking tequila shots together and playing beer pong at a friends. I remember announcing to him that I couldn’t keep this secret anymore and then laying on the floor with my eyes closed telling him. He lost his shit and started crying. The whole party stopped. Everyone knew. Everyone was talking about it for months. It’s horrible.
I had too many tequila shots my last day of spring break and I threw up in the airplane bathroom the next day. Everyone could hear me. It was more awful than it sounds.
I was 18, drove an older friend around while he went to family parties. End of afternoon, helped him walk into a liquor store and pointed him to buying me a bottle of El Toro. Drank way too much of it on the couch, went to the fireworks in our city later. Was loud and obnoxious. Sat in a plate of nachos next to a tree for some reason. Friend slapped me in the face to wake up since a cop was nearby. Vomited in a portapotty. Called a new-ish girlfriend on the ride home, told her I didn’t really wanna go to the wedding we were supposed to go that next week. Got dropped off at my parents house, around 10 PM, they were watching TV with my younger brother in the living room. Took off my pants in the foyer, walked into the bathroom next to the living room, vomited. Passed out in my bed. Woke up at 3 AM because I was trying to take a piss on my brother’s bookshelf (definitely thought that was a toilet) and him and my mom yelling at me to stop.
I used to coach little kids at a summer camp and my bosses were all really close to my age. I was 20, just about to turn 21, but not quite. My immediate manager was 22, Steve. Steve was the definition of every dumb white dude you’ve ever met who’s clearly never faced any sort of adversity in his damn blue-eyed, 6ft tall, ‘I don’t believe in God, Mom!’ life. We all kind of hated Steve, but we could tell him that to his face. We used to get dinner together as a group every night after work on Fridays, but it never went past that…until we had a dinner conversation about tequila. Steve offered to buy us all the best tequila he’d ever had. He said he would buy it and drop it off at my place before he went to the bars…well, he did do that, but then he came back at 2AM after everyone had left and asked me if we could do a shot together. We did several shots. And then we found absinthe in my bathroom cabinet, leftover from the previous tenants. And we did several spoonfuls. And then we did a lot of other stuff. For like, hours. We went to sleep at 6AM and then went to work at 10AM, still tripping and tequila wasted, and made out in a closet on our break. I quit three weeks later…I still can’t look at tequila the same way.
One time my friends and I decided to play tequila monopoly. For every turn that you lost money, you could do a shot of tequila instead to keep half of the fake $$ you had to give up. We all ended up naked in the pool later, and I made out with my best friend in front of everyone in the hot tub. There are pictures.
In college, my best friend and I split an entire bottle of tequila, because we were too young to fear death. The last thing I recall was us lying on the ground in the middle of the quad, each of us trying to dare the other into punching her in the face. But apparently we also built a fort indoors by hanging sheets from our fire alarm system, invited a bunch of dudes we didn’t know to come over our house the next night to watch a VHS tape of Debbie Does Dallas, and broke into the bedroom of my most-hated roommate (who was out of town) and wrote GHOSTS on her wall in pink lipstick, and also across some important paperwork that she needed to graduate. I don’t know what we thought — that she’d get scared of the ghost and move out? I spent the rest of the weekend cleaning the lipstick up and telling random guys whom I didn’t remember meeting that there wasn’t any porn party at our house.
Anyway, I have not touched the stuff in years, because I wish to not be cast out of polite society, since apparently I am a few tequila shots away from breaking every single part of the social contract.