Giveaway Junkie

Finally! Another Giveaway. And This One is RAD.

NOTE: This post is not sponsored. Well. Except by me.

It feels like it’s been a thousand years since I gave away something. Or, you know, a month. I love giving away somethings.

Cue Rachel from Rachel’s Table.

Wow, I just really, really can't imagine a world without avocados. I would totally give up on life. I would.
Wow, I just really, really can’t imagine a world without avocados. I mean… why bother? With even one more day?

No, no. I’m not giving away Rache. Nice try. She’s mine.

I saw her on Monday (we have totally taken our friendship to the next level), and you can should must check out the rest of our adventure on her fabulous blog.

She gave me a fantastic Christmas present (see? Next. Level). “The kind of gift,” I told her, “that makes every day better!”



Those are custom ‘stache glasses tile coasters! Yes! Handmade just for Go Jules Go! For when I put down my vodka / champagne / beer! Well, ha ha, I’m sure I can find another use for them!

I love them.
I “mustache” you to admire these coasters.


Rachel explained that she worked with Julie Maida, a talented artist out of Fredericksburg, VA, to make these coasters. Julie owns the best first name ever maidasomeart, and specializes in wedding gifts and nursery art. She describes her work  as “affordable, (mostly) utilitarian art.”

Julie’s been featured in Stitch magazine and locals can find her at Ponshop Studio in Fredericksburg. She also blogs at

Rache and Julie in front of Ponshop.
Rache and Julie in front of Ponshop. Don’t forget my stein, ladies.

Just a few of Julie’s treasures:


Julie-Maida-redbirdbowl Julie-Maida-bamboo2 Julie-Maida-birdcagecoasters1 Julie-Maida-bluemonogramM2 Julie-Maida-peacockcoasters3

I took one look (okay, lots of looks) at my new coasters and thought, “Wouldn’t it be amazeballs to give away something like this on my blog?” I contacted Julie and here we are!

The Prize

Custom artwork from Julie Maida (value: up to $40 US incl. S/H). That’s right! Work with Julie to design something that’s allll you, baby. Coasters, wine charms, jewelry, wall art, bowls, sculpture, trivets, etc. Once you decide what you want, Julie will work her magic and then ship your prize to you!

How to Win

Tell me, in the comments section below (or email me), a favorite “drunk person” story – you don’t have to be the drunkard. If you are, it’s okay, because you have a chance to class it up with some custom art.

Mine involves a couple of unruly chipmunks with the key to the liquor cabinet. Obviously.
Mine involves a couple of unruly chipmunks who stole the key to the liquor cabinet. Obviously.


12 NOON EST, Wednesday, January 30th.

I’ll announce the winner on Friday, February 1st, 6am EST.

Thanks, Julie and Rache!!!! (I’m sorry. That fourth exclamation point was uncalled for.)

137 thoughts on “Finally! Another Giveaway. And This One is RAD.”

        1. AND I found out this week that Justin Timberlake is releasing a new album this year!!!!

          (Wow. I did 4 exclamation points there without even realizing it.)

          I may just keel over. Now. Because life can’t get any better. Oh wait. I need more guac first.

          1. I can’t believe Darla’s incredible, bury-cool-stuff-in-comments skillz. I should have included a section in my comments post on such advanced talents. All I can figure out how to leave in comments are words.

  1. FOUR exclamation points? Four? Come now, Jules . . . it’s not like you were talking about booze or something. Or a get together involving ME. Now THAT will have to involve an unholy amount of liquor, er I mean, exclamation points. 😉

    Drunk stories, drunk stories . . . hmmmm. Nope, can’t think of a thing. Nobody I know has ever gotten drunk ever.

    Ok, fine. You’ve got me. I’ve got a ton. Let me think on it, and I’ll come back to you. I want the best and most perfectest of ones. Because those coasters WILL be mine! MWAHAHAHAHA.

      1. I fear I have no shot at this after hearing all the other submissions, but would be remorseful if I didn’t at least throw my hat in the ring.

        It was last summer down the ocean. A bunch of us went out to a bar on the bayside on the beach. We were all family. We drank, we laughed, we drank some more. Then random planking by my niece, which resulted in a strange man deciding to lay on top of her whilst she was horizonal on 2 stools, to which her drunken hubs was oblivious, and I had to threaten castration so as to have him remove himself from her person. Soon after that, the neice and I went to the bathroom, and when we exited, everyone was at the front getting ready to leave. “But we just went to the bathroom! We weren’t leaving.” To which my Brother in Law (BIL) responded, “well, let’s go out on the beach (behind the bar but still part of the establishment) and have ONE MORE DRINK.”

        Well, one more drink turned into so very many more than one, but we had a great waitress by the name of Caroline (which we continuously serrenaded with Neil Diamond every time she brought us out more libations), who we probably enabled to pay off her car note that evening with our tips. At one point, there was Karate Kid posing on tall wooden posts sticking out of the sand, my SIL decided she was going to walk into the bay . . .fully clothed, we witnessed disrobing and possible sexy times of an unrelated to us couple further out in the bay . . . and I photographed all of it.

        When they finally kicked us out (not for our shenanigans, but because it was closing time), we headed out to the street to catch the infamous Ocean City bus that would take us safely back to our condos. My BIL, who was pickled at this point, decided that this would be an excellent place to practice his lap dancing techniques . . . with his neice. And then he moved on to random girls on the bus, who were nice enough to reward his efforts with dollar bills placed in the front of his pants.

        Naturally this would lead to the stripping off of his shirt, and twirling it around his head. Might I remind you that this is occuring on a crowded city bus at 2:00am filled with other drunken revelers unrelated to us. Luckily, they were a fun bunch, and within no time, ALL the boys on the bus were topless and dancing. My BIL was like the drunk whisperer.

        This was about the time that the bus driver had enough. He stopped the bus abruptly, pointed to 2 police cars with their lights flashing on the other side of the street, and threatened to call them over to us if we didn’t start behaving.

        And yes, I took pictures of all of it. They were very fuzzy, but it is well documented. I was actually the most sober of all of them, and despite forgetting how a straw works towards the end of the evening at the bar, I was just fine. There were massive hangovers and much sleeping on the beach the next morning though. Good times.

        1. Ha! HA! So I know what pictures I’LL be looking at during a certain forthcoming brunch…

          I love that you “enabled the bartender to pay of her car note” and “forgot how a straw works.” And your BIL as a “drunk whisperer” – that’s so perfect!

          Thank you for starting my day off on the right (surprisingly steady and non-hungover) foot.

  2. My friend Terry was at her staggette party. She was hammered. She was gorgeous. But she was hammered. At one point, she looked across the room at some fat guy wearing a really whacked out hat. It was black and had this weird multi-colored, bedazzled band on it. He looked like the singer from Blues Traveler. She twirled across the floor, took the hat off his head, and put it on one of us girls. She announced, “Whoever has the hat gets to dance with the fat guy!” The rest of the night that guy had a really good time. That is all I can say.

    However, I must also say I really want to win this prize because I have a good idea for something I want to do. Please do not exclude me because I have won other prizes here in the past. It has been a long, long time. You know I love you, Jules.

  3. Jules,
    As a recovering alcoholic who would have some pretty sad stories to share, I will sit this one out. But. I do love myself a good “David Hasselhoff-Hamburger” drunk story, and will have a blast reading these posts… The coasters are magnificent™. Good luck to all!

    1. Eric,
      I could write a thousand posts about that hamburger story. Right now I’m trying to think of every word I could possibly rhyme with Hoff for the title(s). (It’s not going well.)

      Thank you! I agree. Julie’s art is like the guac of art.

  4. So incredibly, insanely, indecently jealous of the fun blogger meeting and next leveling. WAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (I’d like to see you top THOSE exclamation points, Jules.)

    I love Julie’s work – it’s beautiful.

    This drunk person story has served as a cautionary tale for me for 25 years. I live in a small town where the social life for those of us in the business community revolves around fundraisers for local charities and civic organizations. It was at an after-hours for one such group (Rotary, Kiwanis, I can’t remember). The adult beverages were flowing and I noticed one woman, let’s call her Judy, had imbibed perhaps a bit too freely. She was attractively dressed in a shirt, short skirt, black pantyhose and boots.

    Judy staggered into the bathroom and my attention was claimed elsewhere until she reappeared some time later. She came out of the ladies room crying, mascara running down her face. She sobbed, “somebody stole my skirt!”

    Judy’s skirt was tucked up in the back of her pantyhose, leaving all the territory south of the waistband open to the interested view of the entire bar.

    What lesson do we take away from this? When going out drinking, ALWAYS wear pants.

  5. Aww, geez Jules… other than getting a lifetime ban from Rain at the Palms in Las Vegas for getting plastered and vomiting all over the bar and then (later that month) getting drunk enough to get sick (again) and rushing to the bathroom, only not giving my forehead enough room as I pulled the door opening and knocking myself out and fracturing my own skull, I have no drunk stories. (But I don’t get drunk anymore… only twice, ever.) I would have loved some art to hang over my fireplace… darn.

  6. Jules!!!!

    What a fun day we had! It’s a good thing we don’t live closer to each other; I’d certainly be drinking and posing for photos like a rock star every single minute.

    I can attest to the fact that Julie’s art is AMAZEBALLS. More than amazeballs, if there could be such a thing. I have several of her art prints, custom art paintings (she does them on wood and they are just beautiful), coasters and wine charms. She’s full of color and light in person and it shows in her artwork. 🙂

    You are also full of color and light, Jules! Thanks for eating really bad Mexican food with me!

    1. Let’s make plans to go back and get the fish tacos! (Can you imagine seafood there? It’s probably sauteed tissues from the urn.)

      Julie’s art is spectacular. I am so so so excited about this giveaway. As excited as I was when you started talking to that red bear.

      You are SO MUCH FUN.

      1. You guys are killing me with the adorable funness. KILLING me!! I can not WAIT for next month. Oh god, a full month? I can hardly stand it.

        I’m practicing my poses with inanimate objects as we speak. Gotta get limber to hang with THIS crowd, I see. 😉

            1. I was just stalking, er, commenting on your and Darla’s comments here on YOUR blog. It’s a wonderful, wonderful world in which we live.

              I will totally check out the Other Julie’s stuff – I know we’ll be lifelong etsy buds.

  7. I had to think long and hard for a good drunk story. (there were just way too many to choose from)

    In my early 20s, I used to hang out with my younger brother’s friends. They were always doing pranks on each other, the crazier the better. On Halloween, my brother finished his shift at work, went to get in his car and it was filled to the brim with live (and some dead) crabs. Some had crawled into his engine. He never got the stink of rotting seafood out of his car.

    So he asked me to help with the next prank. First: we got drunk. Next: we waited for his crab-loving friend to park his car in our driveway so he could go to work (we lived right next to L.L. Bean’s) Then we had this brilliant idea to wrap his car in twine. Yup, we went outside, drunk as skunks (and it was the dead of winter) and threw this big ball of twine around and around his car until it was covered in this mess of thick string, it looked like a Chevy cocoon. We giggled and laughed and thought we were pretty damn clever.

    At the end of his shift, we waited in the window. Suddenly we see his DAD walking to the car with my brother’s friend. Why his dad was there to pick up the car, we had no clue. And his dad was mean on a good day. When he saw the twine-wrapped car I think his face turned three shades of purple. I think they both spent a good hour unwrapping the car. And it was damn cold outside. Rumor has it their swearing could be heard three towns over. I don’t think his dad ever spoke to my brother again. My brother’s friend learned his lesson about live-crab pranks. we learned ours: never mix drinking with pranking.

    1. Wow. DP. That was a whole ball of wax and twine and worth the wait. I think it was worth it. Totally worth it. I wish you had a picture. Also, I love that his dad took it out on his son, in part, so you kind of killed two birds with one ball of twine.

      I can’t believe you lived right next to the LL Bean outlet. That’s awesome.

      1. I seem to remember he got him back again by filling his car up with pumpkins.

        I grew up sharing a driveway with Bean’s parking lot. I’ll have to show you the pictures. We could see right into their shoe department through our kitchen window. Now the main store is on top of where my bedroom used to be.

          1. Yup, they moved the house to another town after my mom moved out around 1994. (we have video of them driving our house down main street! I am serious!! they took the roof off and moved it to Monmouth. someday I’d like to go find it to see it again)

      2. I feel I should mention that after my senior prom I drove to Freeport (still in my tux) in the middle of the night and bought my first copy of “Mountaineering: Freedom of the Hills.” L.L. Bean is great at two in the morning when you are in a tux… but the complimentary coffee is free for a reason fyi.

        1. wait a sec–you live in Maine? And Bean’s has complimentary coffee?? You’re right, nothing like shopping at 2 am. My brothers and I used to go over there in the middle of the night all the time, you never know when you need to go on an emergency maple syrup run. God I miss those days.

          1. No I live nowhere near Maine… and even then I probably drove at least a hundred and fifty miles to get there in the middle of the night (I lived much closer back then).

  8. My story involves drinking a bottle of wine and passing out before the main course was served by belly dancers. But, I’ll stop there because I’m running a PG13 version of myself on my blog. Plus, I’m still coming off my high from winning the bacon ornament!

      1. If you really must know, it was a family friendly Greek restaurant. We were there to celebrate a birthday, my kids were in tow so NO chance of an R rated story. But I like the way you filled in the blanks. Sure sounds a LOT more provocative!

    1. Uhhh YEAH! Yeah you can! That was fannnn-dab-a-dozie. Thank you!

      But let’s leave Adam and his abs alone, huh? I’m busy fantasizing that he’s covered in alcohol-laden, soft serve ice cream now. Did I say thank you for sharing that story? Thank you.

  9. Oh, dear. There are so many … the one where I got kicked out of a strip club, the one with the poorly planned fart, the one where I launched a ‘suitcase’ of Budweiser cans into the front yard and all of the elementary school kids picked them up on the way to class in the morning, the one where we set the bar on fire … hmmmm? Choices, choices, choices.

    1. Well lucky for you, my friend, there’s no limit on number of entries! GAME. ON.

      Please, please don’t leave me hanging. “Poorly planned fart” and “set the bar on fire” are just too, too tempting.

    1. Julieeee! Are you seeing all of these hilarious entries? Do you realize you’re going to be working with a WINNER in a few short days? And I mean winner like Charlie Sheen “winning” meets Michael Phelps-level ‘winner.’

      Thank you so much for participating in this, and inspiring us with your beautiful artwork! I’m. Loving. This!

    1. I cannot begin to tell you how much I respect that. And by ‘that’ I mean the fact that you don’t remember your drunk stories, not that you’re down to a glass and a half of wine.

  10. Jules,

    So this one time (many years ago) I broke up with a girl (i.e. I did something stupid and she never talked to me again… and you would think it was me cheating on her– but that I didn’t do, it was something else).

    When I say, “broke up with a girl” I of course mean that we were engaged and the wedding was off and I was looking for a hole filled with punji sticks to throw myself into.

    As it turns out I was a soldier at the time and for a couple of years everyone I worked with had been on my case to go out drinking with them. These were soldiers. These were functioning alcoholics. They drank HARD. Some of them had seen shit they didn’t want to remember. Some of them came from backgrounds that you don’t want to know anything about. They drank a lot and they drank often. I hardly ever drank and did not think venturing out on the town with these rough and ready souls sounded like a great idea… until I found myself looking for punji-stick-filled-holes to jump into.

    So having gone out of town (on a bit of a road trip) to a sleepy scenic sea-side hamlet with “the lads,” I finally consented to venture out with them for a night of drinking.

    What happened next is a little hazy and a lot of this is not from my memory but rather from stories that were told (and retold… and retold some more) after the fact but…

    This is what I remember:

    We went to the first bar (1 of 5 we visited that night) and I went immediately up to the bartender and ordered a pitcher of beer and a shot of whiskey.

    … and the only other thing I remember from that night is sitting outside the last (fifth) bar slumped against the wall on the sidewalk puking in between my own legs with a very nice bartender-lady sitting behind me holding me semi-upright trying to direct my vomit, rubbing ice on my forehead, and yelling at my friends (and I mean yelling) for being terrible friends.

    This is what they told me (and anyone else they possibly could for years after the fact):

    In between my only two surviving memories there was apparently dancing (and supposedly some of the girls were very pretty… and some, maybe not so much). I entered and lost a karaoke contest. I sang and danced on a table. I got up on stage and began singing with a band (that had not exactly invited me up to sing) We were kicked out of two of the five bars for reasons that were never made clear to me. And I rambled on quite a lot about philosophy and theology any time I was not singing or dancing (it should be noted that most of the “lads” were not religious OR intellectual in any way shape or form). Everyone loves a drunk philosopher…

    All this (which I mostly have zero memory of) was not the capstone to the wonderful tales of revery (how do you even spell that word?!?). These tales (and there were many more somewhat embarrassing details) were told to warn young soldiers about the dangers of… well, mostly they were just told to make people laugh (and laugh they did)….

    but the capstone to the whole night of festivities was when my friends physically carried me into a tent at the campground we were staying at and took off my shoes for me. While they were doing this I apparently asked this question (with a very serious drunken slur):

    “How do you guys do this every weekend?”

    This question was imitated and impersonated with great dramatic effect for YEARS after the event. Even I think it’s kind of funny now.

    -Soul Walker

    p.s.- They never answered my question.

    1. This story is exactly why everyone should love a drunken philosopher! And they seriously owe you an answer.

      Now can we talk about the backstory here? A wedding called off? This is like… I can’t even process how much is happening here. I read it twice and I’m still blown away.

      In other words: EPIC entry. Thank you!

      1. Jules,

        I may not be wearing any pants. I definitely am holding a coffee cup… and it is kind of hard to see the computer screen through these super amazing shades I’m wearing right now… but the fake rhinestone stash sits kind of funny on my real stache… oh, and your welcome.

        -Soul Walker

      2. Jules,

        If we do talk backstory does it help my chances in the contest? Because I could totally let go of the last vestiges of my dignity for something made of clay.

        -Soul Walker

  11. So Thankfully I cannot take credit for this occurrence:

    While in my senior year of college there was a certain picture that surfaced and made its way around the entire school. There was a girl who got so drunk that she not only passed out on the sidewalk but was wearing a very short dress, and in her sleep pooped herself. So here you have a picture of a drunk passed out girl with poop all over her legs and around her. I personally felt bad for her, but I will admit it was hillarious. But even in a school of 40,000 people doing something that drastic and having internet available, too many people learned who she was. She, consequently, had to move univeristies. (Moral of the story: whatever you do will probably come back to haunt, damn technology.)

    Thought I’d share that one becuase all my drunk stories usually involve being that girl, who cries over a boy in her drunken state. Not to worry my friend, I have a lot of happy drunk moments too. 🙂 Love your blog!
    I’ll have a drink for you tonight.


    PS- I’m sure you are having a very big laugh with all these stories.

    1. Vicky! Vicky Vicky Vicky. Wow. First of all, thank you for the compliment, but even moreso, for having a drink (which I hope turned into many drinks) for me. Good girl.

      Now. This story. Oh. That poor girl. She had to TRANSFER. This is, like, the stuff John Hughes movies are made of (okay, no, maybe not… Who directed American Pie? We’ll use him). WOW.

      1. Jules, that one drink turned into another 5 🙂 you’d be proud! But i know the poor girl. Exactly it was like something straight out of American Pie, except she was not laughing about it…. 🙂 Hope you had a good weekend!

  12. My contribution: There’s this co-worker that drinks like a fish in our two days yearly meetings… Actually, she’s not the only one that gets hammered, but she usually gets the award for the most faux pas… Someone from the company dared her to take her panties off at the bar… She went into the ladies room and flung the panties at him… Everyone continued to drink and ended up at the hotels pool… She had on a spandex tight dress and forgot she had no underwear on… Everyone started jumping in the pool and so when she jumped in – her dress went down exposing her braless breast and it also went up exposing her shaved bottom… No one dared to moved or say a word… She quickly got sober and fixed her dress and tried to ignore the whole thing… It was a scene out of a movie…

    1. I’m actually impressed that she was embarrassed about her dress. I find her sense of decorum fascinating. “Take off my panties in a bar and give them to my coworker? Duh! I’m on it!” …”Jump into a pool and expose my now underwear-less parts? Nooooo. How inappropriate!”

      Hilarious. Disturbing. <–All the perfect elements for a perfect drunk story. Thank you! 🙂

  13. My husband and I went to Mountaineer to gamble with our friends. We had two free room coupons, so I registered a room and so did he. He went into a poker tournament that lasted five hours and won 160.00. I played craps for 45 minutes and won 600.00. While waiting for him to finish his game, I drank away 100.00 of my winnings (my adrenaline was running). Suddenly, I felt very tired (wink), and decided to go to the room. An hour later, he tried to come to the room, but he lost his key. The problem was he couldn’t get a new key, because he “had his own room.” He knocked and knocked and called and called, but I was sleeping beauty that evening, and I wasn’t to be awoken. After two hours, he finally went the desk and laid out his sob story. Lucky for him, someone had found his key and turned it in. He came into the room and leaned down to make sure I was breathing. When he realized I was okay, he whispered, “Cher.” Wouldn’t you know, I heard that. I whispered back, “What?” He whispered, ‘Why didn’t you answer the phone?” Oh, the fun was literally six inches from my face. My response, “Ssshhh, sleeping.” He crawled into bed and slept for three hours. It was almost morning and I woke him up to gamble some more.

    1. I really, really hope your husband isn’t the vengeful type. I’d be checking to make sure I had a copy of the hotel key on every future trip!

      Ha! Thanks for much for sharing this – great entry!

    1. Lily! I got your HILARIOUS postcard (the project mgmt one)! That made my day – thank you! I suppose I’ll let this ‘not dishing in the name of blog contests’ thing slide… Just this once.

      1. Amusing you is a great accomplishment. I wish that I could put that into my quantitative successes for the CV I can’t seem to fill with anything useful or impressive!

  14. ooooo! I do like this.. mainly because this girl lived in Newfoundland for six years, and if you don’t know much about Canadian heritage, just know that in Newfoundland having an iron liver is pretty much a birth right.

    I contemplated telling you about the time that I tried to pick up a cigar off the ground in kitten-heels and a miniskirt in February, resulting in splitting my head open in four places, having a cab ride that felt like a roller coaster, and having my best friend who’s shirt I had ruined with blood pick gravel out of my skull and put me to bed.. yes, put me to bed. I thought, maybe this story is too graphic, I will tell her of my favourite drunk night…

    How does one decide? I could have gone with the CD release concert for a local band I attended and was thanked for being the “drunkest person there”, but let’s be honest, that was all the Jell-O shots, I had no say.

    So, I will go with a New Years story, because I don’t even particularly like New Years as a holiday.

    I broke into my old apartment, I wasn’t meant to be allowed back in for another week, so I lived in hiding.. It was like being on a crime show for an entire week. Scurrrry.

    This particular New Years I was asked to be the date of a good friend, who I had almost no mutual friends. Uh oh. You know what drinking is like with groups of people you don’t know right? Maybe not, they usually result in blackouts. I did know one other person at the pre-party, and they happened to love making me uncomfortable, so I may or may not have drank an entire bottle of wine before we even left for the bar. I will note, that I beat the host at pool after this full bottle. I am still shocked.

    Either way, we went to a bar with three bands playing- a good friend of mine being in one of them, and her boyfriend being none other than Tim Deacon from Hey Rosetta! (A band you should check out if you haven’t heard of, they are, in your words, amazeballs!) After my fourth(ish) Double G&T I strode up to Tim and gave him a father-like lecture on hurting my little lady. I am sure he thinks I am crazy to this day.

    I proceeded then to do the following:
    1. Face-plant 1-4 times (a girl can not be certain) in my 4″ heels which I only sport once or twice a year. Don’t worry, my date picked me up, every time saying, “Pants, don’t you get us kicked out of this bar!”
    2. My feet hurt from my heels, my calves were all locked up, a girl wanted to sit down. So, I went outside, and sat on a chain-link fence, fell backwards, and yes, got stuck with my hooter in the air in a snowbank. Thankfully, two nice gentlemen hauled me out of it.. I am sure they took in the sights first… I had pantyhose and underwear on at least.
    3. I lost everyone I was with. (Does this happen to anyone but me all the time?)
    4. I began to walk, across town, in my heels and mini-skirt in freezing weather on a sheet of ice. It so happened that a guy in one of the bands was walking towards me, and he rescued my stumbling ass and walked me to the nearest gas station…
    5. Staked out gas station with this total stranger who saved my life waiting for a cab to refuel since there was a 3 hour wait for one.
    6. Took a 60$ cab ride completely out of town to a ski hill where I promptly went to sleep.

    I have now perhaps shared too much with the internet, and maybe with you, but isn’t this how making friends works?

    Hope you enjoy.

    PS: I am an artist, and I love art, I will pay shipping back to Canada should I be selected 😉

    1. Wow. Okay, any drunk story that needs a numbered list gets a round of applause from me. (And I’m going to have to check out Hey Rosetta!) I am also a much better pool player when I’m drunk. Or so I think. Same with darts.

      That is such an amazingly clever way to get a cab, too.

      Bravo! Thank you and your iron liver for this amazing entry! 🙂

  15. I love Julie’s work! I absolutely love those birdcage thingies. And am I ever jealous that you and Rachel get to see each other, apparently, every day on your lunch hour? What the hell is going on here? Where is New Jersey in relation to Delaware? I’m pretty sure the East Coast could fit inside my pocket.

    I’m questioning the drunk stories here that reference the drunkard as “this person that I know…” Oh, suuuuuuuure.

    I don’t recall any drunk stories since it would require me to not be drunk in order to remember them.

    1. I respect that, Nnng, you know I do. (Being too drunk to remember the best drunk stories.) I don’t have any m’self. Just a bunch that happened to this girl I know. She has a problem.

      Yes, Rache claims she can see me from her bedroom window. Which is why I’ve chosen to stop wearing pants.

  16. So this isn’t an alcohol story, but it’s one of my favorite “intoxication” stories. A student wrote about it, with no idea that what he was saying was unusual. The short version:
    He got a job at Chuck E. Cheese pizza as Chuck E. – running around in the big mouse costume and playing with kids. He kept taking helium hits at the balloon pump to have a funny voice. Finally, to save time, he just opens up the valve and fills the Chuck E head. He is unfamiliar with the human need for oxygen.
    He plays with the kids for a moment. Staggers. And blacks out.
    When he comes to, kids everywhere are panicking because Chuck E Cheese died right in front of them. His manager is demanding to know what he’s on – so now everyone knows Chuck E is a junkie, too.
    He lost the job.

    1. One of my favorite things about this entry is that it came in at the 11th hour, B-Man style. Like a Chuck E Tease.

      This is classic. I wonder how often this happens on purpose – people using a costume to get high. How ‘furries’ take it to the next level. …I wonder what would happen if I tagged a post -any post- with ‘furries.’

  17. Oooh. I’m late to this party, but I’ve gotta say that I grew up in Fredericksburg, VA, and have an obsession with red and robin’s egg blue (so, naturally, I pinned the picture of the Redbird Bowls)….so… drink to that!

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