Name: Steve
Age (at the time): 17

So this story happened a couple years ago. I was in high school, and was kinda seeing some chick. It was New Years Eve, and this was the first time my parents had let me go out to a party with my friends (Yea I know, they’re strict). Needless to say I was pumped.

However, a couple days before the party I found out I had to work a 10 hour shift at the restaurant I worked at. I was naturally pissed at missing some of the party, but I went in anyways. After 10 hours of working in a kitchen by myself on New Years Eve (aka shit storm of work to do), I finally got off and went over to a friends house to shower and change. At this point, I hadnt eaten in over 9 hours (I had a short 30 minute break where I grabbed some food from a gas station).

I finally got to the party at around 10:15. At this point my other brain starts thinking “Dude, you should hook up with that chick you’re seeing”. After multiple attempts with no success, I finally decide to damn the hatches and get incredibly Patrick Shwasted.

According to my sources (as I have no recollection of the evening), the rest of the evening quickly went down hill. Apparently I had around enough liquor in the span of 45 minutes to get me to strip down to my boxers, roll around outside in the backyard (in below freezing temperatures), and basically confess my drunken love for this girl while puking my brains out. I did not get to see the ball drop obviously. I woke up the next morning in a different shirt, to the host’s parents asking why I had puked all over their house. Needless to say, me and the girl kinda never talked again. Fail.

Dear Steve, I’m trying to find some words of comfort here by I can’t seem to find any.  I guess you can be glad that you didn’t shit your pants while failing at everything else the evening had to offer.