Getting hammered at a company happy hour

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Okay, long story short (ish).

First off, I started out the night by hearing about a girl's major blunder.

At a company-wide meeting on Thursday, we were informed that we were to be let off early on Friday for the weekend. After said meeting, the girl in question got on IM (the whole office uses it), and IMed her friend a witty, sarcastic comment about being let out early. Something to the effect of "oh, whoopity do!" Problem is, the person she IMed has the same first name as three other people in the company. Including one of the higher-ups, and the one who helped make that decision. Oops. Yep, you guessed it. She IMed the worst possible wrong person. After shaking like a leaf at the "huh?" reply, and trying to absorb what she had just done, she did her best to cover it and move on. This all happened about 5 minutes before we left for happy hour, and she was shaking like a leaf all the way there.

Upon arrival, I camped out at the bar and got myself a bomber (24 oz) of Bass Ale, which seemed to be what everyone not drinking pink martinis was having. I then proceeded to attach myself to people that I sorta knew so I wasn't that guy standing in the corner drinking by himself. Spent some time catching up with a guy I went to college with, and after discovering that we lived near enough to each other one year to have some common stories, we moved on. After I made it through 3 or so of the bombers, I started feeling good, and began talking to people I didn't really know that well. I did well, though--every time I saw the CEO, I made damn sure that I was in transit past him to avoid being stuck next to him--instead I would say "hey, how's it goin!" and he'd reply in kind and keep moving.

At some point, however, I did wind up at the bar with the #2 and #3, after about 6 of these things. I was VERY chatty, but think I did alright. Spent most of the time talking about my first week, what I thought about it, etc, and the differences between this job and my dreaded last job. At some point after this, I was rescued by another girl I work with (who happens to be the head gaming person), and talked to her for about 45 minutes about gaming and other geeky stuff, and decided that after 8 I should head home. At some point between 7 and 8 the company tab had been closed out, so I threw down my card and kept drinkin. After 8, I realized that my fiancee, who was at another happy hour and with whom i was spending the night (she lives closer to town--shorter commute=more sleep), had gone home three beers before. And no, I have no idea what sorta time frame that is.

So I gathered my coat and backpack, and started staggering down the main drag in Georgetown in search of an ATM. I needed cash for a cab home, and after five blocks, I found one. Pull out wallet, dig out ca--wait. Where's my card? Damnit!

So I walk back to the bar, explain to the stragglers that I forgot my card, sign my receipt, and stagger back out. This time I decide to forget the ATM and just grab a cab. I'm starting to urgently feel like I need to be home. We stop for cash en route, and I arrive at her apartment with no problems. By the way, the ATM is the last thing I remember.

Apparently I couldn't find my keys, so I banged on Aeval's door until she opened it and let me in. Given where I found my clothing in the morning, I walked 5 feet from the door to the foot of her bed, dropped my backpack, and stripped. From what she tells me, I managed to run into every bit of furniture in the house between the front door and there, which isn't much. I also "couldn't walk to save my life."

At some point after laying down on the bed, I made a bolt to the bathroom. So much for beers 7 and 8. After returning and refusing to switch sides of the bed with Aeval so I didn't have to crawl over her on my subsequent trips, I repeated the process a few times before passing out into a nasty smelling heap of hairy snoring.

Sometime around 5 am I woke up to dispose of beer 6 in the same manner as I disposed of beers 7 and 8. Apparently there was still some of it left around 7, because I spent my first half hour awake on the bathroom floor making sure it had passed out of my mouth/nose.

After a shaky shower, and a failed attempt to hold down a few sips of gatorade, I gathered myself to make the commute into work. Each leg would be a chore--first an elevator that would make me nauseous, then a long walk to the train, then a train ride with no trash cans, then a 2.5 minute escalator ride up to the nearest trash can, followed by another elevator and finally a day in front of a computer.

I wasn't looking forward to it. I managed to make it, but by 9:30 I decided that I needed something in my stomach, so made the hike to the neighborhood McDonalds. No luck. Had 4 bites and had to abort lest I taste it a second time. Mmm.

Between 10am and 11:30, I made half a dozen trips to the bathroom to stare at the toilet and will myself (at first) not to puke (and towards the end) to just puke and get it overwith. That said, between coworkers coming and going and the fact that there wasn't much left, nothing came up. At 11:30 I managed to slowly sip my way halfway through a bottle of gatorade, and at 12:30 I had a double QPC value meal, which finally set me straight. I got back to the office at 1, with just enough time to finish my work before the early let out.

Moral of the story: I need to drink more often. I have the tolerance of a 3 month old kitten.
 
itsPizzarific said:
so 8 total?

what was that beginning thing about anyways, i didnt get that. :rolleyes:
Some girl was panicking about putting her job in jeopardy by accidentally telling a very important boss here that the VIB's idea was stupid. Basically, I felt like after a performance like that, I'd need to mess up pretty bad to stand out.

And 8 beers, yes, but 8 24 oz. beers. Cans, I believe are 8 oz. And Bass Ale isn't the lightest beer in the world, either (which didn't help the hangover).
 
Lord_Shinnok said:
You hardly deserving of the Drunk part of your name. Tisk tisk.
No kidding. I forget that slugging Merlot with my gnome doesn't build my tolerance. Looks like I need to put this paycheck to use and buy some booze.
 
Or, you could just stop drinking excessively.

You really don't think I can let a single opportunity to say something like that slip by, do you? Snicker...
In the meantime, you can change your name to WannabeDrunkCajun.
 
or "WunkCajun" for short ;)

and cans are 12 oz i believe. at least soda cans :D.

and now i get it, so her blunder took the pressure off of you.
 
But, see, Mixed, the whole point of drinking more regularly would be to make sure that the next time I take down 16 can equivalent beers, I can not wake up feeling like I was beaten to death the night before. If I drink more often, I can build my tolerance back up, and make 16 beers run-of-the-mill. At that point, "excessive" would be bumped up to, say, 24+ beers, where it was back in college.
 
DrunkCajun said:
But, see, Mixed, the whole point of drinking more regularly would be to make sure that the next time I take down 16 can equivalent beers, I can not wake up feeling like I was beaten to death the night before. If I drink more often, I can build my tolerance back up, and make 16 beers run-of-the-mill. At that point, "excessive" would be bumped up to, say, 24+ beers, where it was back in college.
I gotcha. Gotta build up a tolerance, especially so you don't forget what you're doing and truly screw up with the office folks like that girl did.

If you're going to drink, you may as well drink like a champ instead of a wimp.
 
MixedVariety said:
I gotcha. Gotta build up a tolerance, especially so you don't forget what you're doing and truly screw up with the office folks like that girl did.

If you're going to drink, you may as well drink like a champ instead of a wimp.
Exactly. That's always been my theory on it. No sense sipping 6 beers when you can slug 16 and still be brighter-eyed and bushier-tailed the next morning than your weaker coworkers!

Then again, I have this sneaking suspicion there was sarcasm in your post.
 

Croup

Diabloii.Net Member
16 beers is nothing to be ashamed of sir. I have friends who, in college, are more than done after 6 or 7. And, as you said, Bass is not exactly a light beer, so you had quite a volume of beer in your stomach. I'd say that you performed admirably.

See? My advice worked perfectly. You were very sociable, had plenty of beer and still managed to vomit in the privacy of your own abode. Well, fiance's abode. Whatever, a private toilet is a private toilet.
 
Croup said:
16 beers is nothing to be ashamed of sir. I have friends who, in college, are more than done after 6 or 7. And, as you said, Bass is not exactly a light beer, so you had quite a volume of beer in your stomach. I'd say that you performed admirably.

See? My advice worked perfectly. You were very sociable, had plenty of beer and still managed to vomit in the privacy of your own abode. Well, fiance's abode. Whatever, a private toilet is a private toilet.
16 beers ain't bad, you speak the truth. But I'm someone who carried around a 24 pack one night in college and drank it to the last can, and then walked home pissed off because I wasn't drunk. My tolerance was so high that my body metabolised the alcohol in beer faster than my stomach could take in more. I had to switch to 100 proof Southern Comfort for a few weeks to finally get drunk again.

And yeah, puking in private is much preferred to any public displays of vomiting.
 
DrunkCajun said:
16 beers ain't bad, you speak the truth. But I'm someone who carried around a 24 pack one night in college and drank it to the last can, and then walked home pissed off because I wasn't drunk. My tolerance was so high that my body metabolised the alcohol in beer faster than my stomach could take in more. I had to switch to 100 proof Southern Comfort for a few weeks to finally get drunk again.

And yeah, puking in private is much preferred to any public displays of vomiting.
wow thats like godly. yes build your alcoholic tolerance up again :D
 
*Does MRI on Drunk* *Sees his liver and kidneys are each twice the size of a volleyball*



Sounds like you have a fun job, well everything but the computer you have to use. I say you give OTFers sneak peaks as a "study" to see what real people like.
 
itsPizzarific said:
wow thats like godly.
It's also bloody expensive. After my funds depleted I was back to drinking forties and finding new ways of amusing myself. The next year of school we found a giant cup that held 9 beers and said "I bet you can't" on it in big green letters. We took turns trying to drink it faster than anyone else. I think my time was 43 minutes, which placed third in my house behind a much larger roommate who did it in 39 and another guy my size who eeked out 42.

The problem with that wasn't the quantity so much as the volume. I can remember at minute 43 making a dash for the back deck, knowing liquid was going to be evacuated out of one head or the other. I got my zipper down fast enough that it was the more pleasant of the two. 9 beers is a lot of liquid.
 
DrunkCajun said:
Exactly. That's always been my theory on it. No sense sipping 6 beers when you can slug 16 and still be brighter-eyed and bushier-tailed the next morning than your weaker coworkers!

Then again, I have this sneaking suspicion there was sarcasm in your post.
I hold up my hands in protest at your supposition, sir. When have you known anything but honesty and complete candor in my posts?

Well...
 

rplusplus

Diabloii.Net Member
As a true sailor I was like DC till I was 25 or so. But just after I turned 25 I found that my taste had changed to drinking much more moderately. I guess it just comes with age.

That or end up looking like Teddy Kennedy, and that just AIN'T gonna happen.

R++
 
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