Your Biggest Bender

Your friend is/was Hunter S. Thompson?

 

Tell the doc your bone spurs are killing you.

 

I've eyed this thread skeptically while thinking much the same thing.

 

I like your friend

 

Did something very similar but in reverse. Bought a VW Wagon outside the American Express building in Amsterdam on Damrak in September 1976, visited my sister in Heidelberg for a few days, then headed for S Germany for a month. Slept in the vehicle for days on end in small towns and on shoulders of country roads. Lots of really drunk nights in a row culminating with a beer and gin marathon on the ferry you took except in reverse. People,mostly Englishmen, were barfing everywhere.
Either that or a 4 day weekend in Whitefish, Montana in 1979 which was finished up by 8 of us on the way home in a van drinking 140 Coors Banquet between the border and Calgary. That was after we pulled over before the border and drank enough beer so we could afford to pay the duty on the 140 we brought into Canada. We were snorting coke off the top of a powder blue Coleman cooler for most of the 4 days. On consecutive nights we had bands from the bars we were drinking in come back to the cabin we were staying, plus bar chicks. The topper was the Border Crossing gal who searched our van gave me her phone number!
My liver hurts just thinking about the last one.

 

Mmmmmmm. Yellow bellies.

 

It was the jumbo martini — it's their specialty, he said — in a Minneapolis bar.

Or the supposed fishing trip that began with beers at 7:30 a.m. before getting in the canoe for a 20-mile float. The coolers were much lighter ... sometime later.

Or the mid-Missouri Octoberfest where my best friend hit me in the head with a 2x4, I made out with a random girl without any pretense of getting to know her or her name, got separated from my friends and tried to climb over a fence into a lumberyard and falling to hyperextend my right thumb so badly that it was swollen for a year, to getting a Pepsi and a Snickers at the last call mini mart, opening the Pepsi and promptly dropping it on the ground — all before getting back to the tent and having my buddy sleep on my new glasses, which I'd had less than two weeks and were fucked the rest of the time I had them.

Or the time me, my buddy, his cousin and some random chick said cousin was banging drank nearly three fifths of Cuervo Gold while smoking copious amounts of sticky, bud-filled joints BEFORE going out to this way out in the woods bar — seriously, down deep where the hoot owls fuck the chickens — where some ungodly loud heavy metal cover band was screeching, drinking Bud longnecks and even lighting up at picnic table seat. The next day, I got up and said, Hey, I gotta get home, move your truck so I can leave. It was 7 p.m., and I had to be at work the next day. About 20 miles down the road, it was not 7 p.m., it was 7 a.m. and I had lost all ability to tell time.

Or the time ...

 

Some of the best drinking stories I've ever heard of start with "We started drinking beer at 7 in the morning."

 

There was the time I had an 8 am final that ended at 10 am and after pulling an all-nighter, we started partying immediately and next thing I know I'm passed out in someone's dorm room (freshman year), then wake up and its dark so I think its 7 am or so the next day and realize its only 8 pm the same day....

 

That's called a nap.

 

About 15 years ago, Mrs. MMSW and Baby MMSW were out of town. After church, I stopped for a pizza and a six pack ... of pear cider.

Sat on the living floor watching football, eating pizza and drinking pear cider. First one bottle. Then a second.

The phone rang. I went to the kitchen to answer it. I came back. The dog had eaten the pizza. I blamed the pear cider on my obvious altered state, because who leaves a dog alone with pizza.

To this day, it’s the most alcohol I’ve consumed in one sitting. #thuglife.