Make me feel less guilty with your worst night out stories

Mine probably doesn't top yours I am afraid

The one and only time I got utterly rat arsed was when I was 18 and it was my first time at night club and I can't even remember how much I drank but it must have been a lot and I got home and sat on my mum's knee and broke my heart and told her to never die and that she had to promise me she wouldn't and she said she couldn't, which sober me would totally completely comprehend, but drunk me wasn't impressed and I puked down her back and then all over her new white fake fur rug which was her pride and joy and was quite expensive. I drank cherry vodka shots last before I went home so the stain was mega noticeable and she had a hard time getting it out I felt so guilty the next day when I clicked to what I had done.

I've never got into that state again. I felt rough as hell the next day and thankfully, me and my mum laughed it all off the next day and she said she couldn't moan because she had some similar stuff too at that age so I got away with it but I still cringe thinking back to it

Went on a night out with my colleagues, got very drunk, went back to a colleagues house with most people (including my boss) we slept in the same bed (me and my boss, and another guy and one other girl, completely non sexual in theory) but in practice, I made some, ummm, sexual advances.

This was my first ever experience of drinking, not really a night out but if this doesn't make you feel better nothing will!

Ok so for background my mum is pretty seriously Roman Catholic and church is very important to her. Whilst I was still living at home Sunday Mass was compulsory even though I'm not particularly religious any more.

So one Saturday I've been invited to a friend's 16th birthday sleepover. Somehow she's managed to get hold of two bottles of vodka for the 5 of us. Let the silly drinking games commence! I don't think any of us had really drunk before and we had no idea of our tolerance levels. By 3am two girls have passed out and the birthday girl can't leave the vicinity of the toilet. I'm feeling quietly smug about my previously unknown ability to hold my alcohol. But I know I'd better get to sleep if I'm going to make it to Mass tomorrow so I get a bowl for the birthday girl and we all go to bed.

Alarm goes off 9am next morning and strangely enough I still feel fine. Fantastic! I'm super paranoid that I smell like alcohol though so wash up, clean teeth, perfume etc and then head out to walk to church. In retrospect I was basically still drunk. As I'm walking it starts to dawn on me that maybe this isn't a good idea. Not sure if it's the bright sun, or the motion, but I'm starting to feel a bit rough. No worries! I grab a coffee and a bagel thinking that will sober me right up.

The breakfast really doesn't help and has made me feel so much worse but by now I'm at the church and meeting up with mum. All of my energy is going into trying not to show how bad I'm feeling. I tell her I haven't slept much in the hope that will stop her asking too many questions.

Mass begins and I feel like death warmed up. My head is pounding and I feel so sick. Then comes the call to communion. For those who have never been to communion this involves the priest placing a little round bit of bread known as the “host” in to your mouth. To Catholics this bread is literally the body of Christ. I know I don't want to be doing this but there’s no escape and I'm in the line before I realise. The second this awful wafer bread touches my tongue there is nothing I can do to prevent the calamity that is about to unfold. I vomit spectacularly over the priest (whose hand is still right by my mouth where he’s just placed the bread) and also partly into his bowl containing the other bits of Christ's body.

The rest is a bit of a blur. Basically, mum was horrified, apologised profusely and then just dragged me outside and took me home. She said I must have caught a bug and although I suspect she may have been aware of the truth I never admitted it to her and she never asked. The next day I went to apologise (and confess) to the priest and my mum and I never spoke of it to each other again (though my church friends will never let me forget it).

In case you’re wondering I found out afterwards that the priest went to clean up/ change his vestments while the poor altar servers had to wipe up my sick. Those still waiting for communion could only take the usually optional precious blood (wine). Also, just so you know, the consecrated host/ bread is so important to Catholics it can’t just be thrown away so had to be fished out of my sick and specially dissolved in water.

I had to carry on going to that church until I left home at 18.

TL;DR My first foray into (underage) drinking ended with me vomiting on a priest and the consecrated body of Christ in front of my highly religious mum and our entire congregation.

This was my first ever experience of drinking, not really a night out but if this doesn't make you feel better nothing will!

Ok so for background my mum is pretty seriously Roman Catholic and church is very important to her. Whilst I was still living at home Sunday Mass was compulsory even though I'm not particularly religious any more.

So one Saturday I've been invited to a friend's 16th birthday sleepover. Somehow she's managed to get hold of two bottles of vodka for the 5 of us. Let the silly drinking games commence! I don't think any of us had really drunk before and we had no idea of our tolerance levels. By 3am two girls have passed out and the birthday girl can't leave the vicinity of the toilet. I'm feeling quietly smug about my previously unknown ability to hold my alcohol. But I know I'd better get to sleep if I'm going to make it to Mass tomorrow so I get a bowl for the birthday girl and we all go to bed.

Alarm goes off 9am next morning and strangely enough I still feel fine. Fantastic! I'm super paranoid that I smell like alcohol though so wash up, clean teeth, perfume etc and then head out to walk to church. In retrospect I was basically still drunk. As I'm walking it starts to dawn on me that maybe this isn't a good idea. Not sure if it's the bright sun, or the motion, but I'm starting to feel a bit rough. No worries! I grab a coffee and a bagel thinking that will sober me right up.

The breakfast really doesn't help and has made me feel so much worse but by now I'm at the church and meeting up with mum. All of my energy is going into trying not to show how bad I'm feeling. I tell her I haven't slept much in the hope that will stop her asking too many questions.

Mass begins and I feel like death warmed up. My head is pounding and I feel so sick. Then comes the call to communion. For those who have never been to communion this involves the priest placing a little round bit of bread known as the “host” in to your mouth. To Catholics this bread is literally the body of Christ. I know I don't want to be doing this but there’s no escape and I'm in the line before I realise. The second this awful wafer bread touches my tongue there is nothing I can do to prevent the calamity that is about to unfold. I vomit spectacularly over the priest (whose hand is still right by my mouth where he’s just placed the bread) and also partly into his bowl containing the other bits of Christ's body.

The rest is a bit of a blur. Basically, mum was horrified, apologised profusely and then just dragged me outside and took me home. She said I must have caught a bug and although I suspect she may have been aware of the truth I never admitted it to her and she never asked. The next day I went to apologise (and confess) to the priest and my mum and I never spoke of it to each other again (though my church friends will never let me forget it).

In case you’re wondering I found out afterwards that the priest went to clean up/ change his vestments while the poor altar servers had to wipe up my sick. Those still waiting for communion could only take the usually optional precious blood (wine). Also, just so you know, the consecrated host/ bread is so important to Catholics it can’t just be thrown away so had to be fished out of my sick and specially dissolved in water.

I had to carry on going to that church until I left home at 18.

TL;DR My first foray into (underage) drinking ended with me vomiting on a priest and the consecrated body of Christ in front of my highly religious mum and our entire congregation.

Last night was my best friend's 18th birthday party, so we basically went on a bar crawl through town in which I somehow put away 2 vodka and cokes, 2 shots of sambuca, 2 vodka shots, 3 jaeger bombs and a shitload of cocktails. I projectile vomited in a drain, then while sat on the train home, the birthday girl decided to throw up all over herself and the floor, the smell causing me to join her. This caused an argument with the passengers opposite and the other members of our group, none of which I remember because I passed out:P

So this morning I felt not only horrendously ill, but kinda guilty too...anyone got any better stories to make me feel less of a terrible person?

This was my first ever experience of drinking, not really a night out but if this doesn't make you feel better nothing will!

Ok so for background my mum is pretty seriously Roman Catholic and church is very important to her. Whilst I was still living at home Sunday Mass was compulsory even though I'm not particularly religious any more.

So one Saturday I've been invited to a friend's 16th birthday sleepover. Somehow she's managed to get hold of two bottles of vodka for the 5 of us. Let the silly drinking games commence! I don't think any of us had really drunk before and we had no idea of our tolerance levels. By 3am two girls have passed out and the birthday girl can't leave the vicinity of the toilet. I'm feeling quietly smug about my previously unknown ability to hold my alcohol. But I know I'd better get to sleep if I'm going to make it to Mass tomorrow so I get a bowl for the birthday girl and we all go to bed.

Alarm goes off 9am next morning and strangely enough I still feel fine. Fantastic! I'm super paranoid that I smell like alcohol though so wash up, clean teeth, perfume etc and then head out to walk to church. In retrospect I was basically still drunk. As I'm walking it starts to dawn on me that maybe this isn't a good idea. Not sure if it's the bright sun, or the motion, but I'm starting to feel a bit rough. No worries! I grab a coffee and a bagel thinking that will sober me right up.

The breakfast really doesn't help and has made me feel so much worse but by now I'm at the church and meeting up with mum. All of my energy is going into trying not to show how bad I'm feeling. I tell her I haven't slept much in the hope that will stop her asking too many questions.

Mass begins and I feel like death warmed up. My head is pounding and I feel so sick. Then comes the call to communion. For those who have never been to communion this involves the priest placing a little round bit of bread known as the “host” in to your mouth. To Catholics this bread is literally the body of Christ. I know I don't want to be doing this but there’s no escape and I'm in the line before I realise. The second this awful wafer bread touches my tongue there is nothing I can do to prevent the calamity that is about to unfold. I vomit spectacularly over the priest (whose hand is still right by my mouth where he’s just placed the bread) and also partly into his bowl containing the other bits of Christ's body.

The rest is a bit of a blur. Basically, mum was horrified, apologised profusely and then just dragged me outside and took me home. She said I must have caught a bug and although I suspect she may have been aware of the truth I never admitted it to her and she never asked. The next day I went to apologise (and confess) to the priest and my mum and I never spoke of it to each other again (though my church friends will never let me forget it).

In case you’re wondering I found out afterwards that the priest went to clean up/ change his vestments while the poor altar servers had to wipe up my sick. Those still waiting for communion could only take the usually optional precious blood (wine). Also, just so you know, the consecrated host/ bread is so important to Catholics it can’t just be thrown away so had to be fished out of my sick and specially dissolved in water.

I had to carry on going to that church until I left home at 18.

TL;DR My first foray into (underage) drinking ended with me vomiting on a priest and the consecrated body of Christ in front of my highly religious mum and our entire congregation.

So me and my ex stayed in playing a drinking game. Managed to put down over half a bottle of rum in 20 minutes, went upstairs with her and me laughing my ass off, brushing our teeth then talking to her mum for 30 minutes totally blasted. Went downstairs, laughed a bunch, drank a little bit, kissed a lot, had like 3 minutes of sex then I asked her to get off then I threw up in a coffee cup and fell asleep on the floor. I kept waking up partially drunk, gulping down a pint of water every time, falling asleep for 10 minutes then waking up and puking again. Did that about 4 times. Morning came, I was dry heaving in the toilet and then went downstairs to fall asleep on the sofa and being too ill to move for most of the day. The hangover ended pretty well though, I felt better and stayed in snuggling on the sofa watching netflix until night time.

Roast beef dinner and a three hour nap and I was a changed girl on Sunday

This cannot be real

You worded that perfectly, hats off to you!

Apparently I spent the rest of the night babbling on about a diet I might try (as if I'd ever go f*cking vegan) and proceeded to dab in his face.

TDLR; I'm an embarrassment to society.

I went out two days ago and it took all of yesterday to recover it was that bad.

Just for some context, I'm a 5"2 petite female but I'm pretty chunky, so I'd say I drink okay for my size. However, Dumb Dumb here tried to keep up with her 5"8 bodybuilding boyfriend who can drink his own father under the table.

I thought it would be a good idea to have six cans of gassy cider to start which left me feeling like a whoopee cushion for the rest of the night :P I was also in the presence of ladies meaning I couldn't really burp it out either. I then started drinking Archer's peach schapps and sour apple Mickey Finns STRAIGHT. After that I proceeded to have two mugs (yes, mugs) of vodka. What could go wrong?

Put it this way, I was sick in the back of an Uber and now no one will pick my partner up for anything because our rating is so poor. I also started shrieking incoherently (think 'walrus' here) because I thought I'd left my phone at the party when it was IN MY HAND. As soon as I ran into our flat I stripped in the bathroom but kept my hula-necklace on, flung all my clothes in the shower and went to bed.

Apparently I spent the rest of the night babbling on about a diet I might try (as if I'd ever go f*cking vegan) and proceeded to dab in his face.

TDLR; I'm an embarrassment to society.

oh my GOD I thought the train was bad but an Uber?

Yeah, mixing your drinks always seems like a good idea halfway through the night...hahah