Comments on: Why I should never go back to the Hard Rock Casino

By: mistaken/debbie

mistaken/debbie — Fri, 06 Mar 2009 15:26:33 +0000

lol one shouldn’t get that drunk
funny :}

By: Rae

Rae — Sat, 17 May 2008 19:43:55 +0000

Ah, drunken wanderings in Vegas. It’s people like you that paid for my public school education in Clark County. I don’t know if I should thank you, or start a lynch mob…

By: Brother Monk

Brother Monk — Mon, 12 May 2008 23:55:09 +0000

Halloween 1998 following a Phish concert, brain full of lysergic acid, lungs full of cannabis, and a belly full of bourbon, I decide (in costume no less) to go to Caesar’s Palace to play craps. Because after 7 hours of HARD partying with a group of wookie miscreants, this seems like the logical progression to make.

I somehow managed to get stuck on an elevator. By stuck I mean I could not seem to get off of it. Damned automatic doors. While riding up and down and laughing at nothing in particular, my elevator car suddenly made a strange noise and went express up to the top floor. Doors open and in steps a VERY large man, then another giant of a man, followed by…

Dennis Rodman. In Vegas. On Halloween.

Best part of all? They didn’t seem to care one iota that a crazy looking white man with pupils the size of dinner plates was already on the elevator giggling to himself.

I won’t even tell you about the two hours afterwards where I thought I was invisible… pit bosses LOVE me…

By: Hispanic Panic

Hispanic Panic — Sat, 10 May 2008 22:56:30 +0000

On a cruise ship playing blackjack after a mexican shot-laden shore excursion, I drank so much that I passed out on my face on the table.

I woke up the next morning in my bed, same clothes on, with five $100 chips in my pocket. (Only started with $100)

I still don’t remember what happened, but I hope there’s no camera involved.

By: Mandygirl

Mandygirl — Sat, 10 May 2008 18:52:26 +0000

I got so drunk on a plane back from Ohio once I dont remember much…. I fell off my luggage while sitting on it becasue I’m lazy.

I also dont remember telling Gary to “STOP TALKING TO THAT BITCH” when he was trying to reassure a woman terrified of flying that “everything was going to be ok” Oh and I said “The slut was faking it, she just wants you” at the top of my lungs. Classy.

By: marcie

marcie — Sat, 10 May 2008 13:00:21 +0000

a drunken night ruined by DWI when i was sitting in my car not moving…not planning to move….barley drunk 0.13

that ruins a great night

By: Amanda

Amanda — Sat, 10 May 2008 07:22:53 +0000

The missed ass/air grab was my favorite part.

By: PitChiK

PitChiK — Sat, 10 May 2008 00:04:19 +0000

So, my boyfriend and I broke up the first time and I was meeting up with the new guy at the bar that we all frequented. Well, I didn’t eat dinner that night and started pounding down whiskey and cokes (got to love $1 wells night). By time my date showed up(about an hour after I got there), I was already drunk. We talk, cuddle, drink… Then my “ex” walks in. This is what I think happened: I see him and say under my breath “asshole” and lean on the shoulder of my date. Reality: I screamed on the top of my lungs (and this is a dive) “fuckin asshole!!” so everyone in the place can hear. Needless to say, I ruined everyone’s night. Oh, then I preceeded to text the “ex” mean things and leave him rude messages. Yeah, good times…

By: sporkgasm

sporkgasm — Fri, 09 May 2008 23:26:15 +0000

last time we went to reno it was on a bus trip. i started drinking shots of tequila at 8 am. we crashed a dive bar bus trip and ended up at a strip club. apparently when blacked out i tip well and make out with strippers. yes, i’m gay when drunk. awesome stuff. i spent so much they thought i was the daughter of the harrahs. hi, that bitch is bleach blonde and looks nothing like me. they may as well have thought i was paris hilton. what i remember of the trip was fun though.

By: Trista

Trista — Fri, 09 May 2008 22:58:07 +0000

And if he could have seen straight he could’ve seen that she was 70 years old.

Okay not 70…55. but VEGAS 55.

Enough said.