Top 10 Horror Roommate Stories: Part 2

So here is part two of my Top Ten Roommate Horror Stories. Story number 9 really just made me pity this girl more than anything. She is definitely a “lifer” as far as ridiculous behavior goes. Thank God she just subletted for a few months! If you have a horror roommate story I would LOVE to hear it, leave it in the comments below!

9) -Do I look like a slut? -Yes. -Great!

I actually feel kind of bad for the girl in this story, because she's so ridiculous and doesn't realize it. However I felt worse for myself because I had to deal with her. This took place "middler" year (for those of you who didn't go to Northeastern University, we are a 5-year program and the 3rd year is called middler) after 2 of my roommates already moved out to study abroad. One of their sublets was a nice, albeit ridiculous, girl named Jackie*.

Now Jackie was under 21 but had a fake id, so we invited her out with us one night. Mistake. The bar we were going to is tragically no longer in existence, but it was a very casual piano bar (Jake Ivory's for those of you in the know). Translation, it's a jeans and t-shirt kind of a bar. So when Jackie walked out of her room wearing booty shorts, a leopard print tube top, "fuck-me" heels, a face full of makeup, and hair teased to Snooki proportions, we were a little thrown off. But whatever, not my place if you don't want my opinion.

Here's the clincher though, she then asked us for our opinions. I'm not really one to sugar coat things, clearly. This is how the conversation went:

Jackie: Hey how do I look?

Me: Like a slut.

Jackie: Hahaha, no really! How do I look?

Me: Like a big slut.

Jackie: Hahah, oh Ashley! *walks away*

Me: *yells down the hallway* No, seriously, you look like an enormous slut!


Apparently she chose to either embrace the slut look, or she thought I was joking. Either way, she kept the outfit on. Now that's not really a big deal, if you want to dress like a hooker that's totally your prerogative! Anyways, the truly ridiculous part of this story has yet to come.

We're out, we're dancing, and we’re having a great time! All of a sudden it's like a flip was switched. A switch that was apparently labeled "sane” and "crazy." Jackie comes up to us with tears pouring down her face. Big, drunken, mascara streaked tears. She looked like she belonged in an Alice Cooper video.





So she's sobbing and we can't figure out why. In between breathes she tells us it's because she doesn't have a boyfriend. Like I said, the switch was flipped to "crazy." Apparently her big game-plan for the night was to dress like a whore, and then find some guy that wanted to take her home to mom. That was her logic. Jackie and her friend left, and we stayed to finish our night. We (wrongly) assumed by the time we got home she would have calmed down or fallen asleep.

As we walk into the kitchen we are greeted with the sounds of crying and yelling. She's all worked up about how she's single and is never going to meet anyone. I just want to repeat here that she wasn't even 21 yet. Also, everyone that lived in our apartment was single (there were 6 of us total) except for myself. For her to be having such a meltdown was just ridiculous.

Honestly at this point you can pretty much guess what happened. I told her to stop dressing slutty because the guys that will hit on you want to sleep with you, not date you. Also don't expect to meet your future husband at a crowded bar. Then I ate some snacks and went to bed. I also refused to go to a bar with her again after that.


So remember , everyone is ridiculous, including slutty, crying 20-year olds.


*Names have been changed to protect the innocent, the not so innocent, and myself.

Don't touch the wizards staff!

This story took place over the summer, but I just got around to posting it on my blog. A few months ago my friend Ted* went back to his hometown in PA for a bit to see some old friends. One night his buddy invites him out to a strip club. Not only a strip club, but a BYO strip club! That's basically hitting the jackpot. Damn strip club beers cost $100/bottle. That's scientific fact.

While Ted was kind of hesitant to believe that a strip club would be BYO, he still bought a 30-rack of PBR and was ready to go to town if it was. So as he starts walking into the strip club, a bouncer (of course) stops him and asks him what the hell he is doing. When he replies, "It's BYO, right?" the bouncer essentially laughs in his face. So Ted tosses the beer in the trunk of his car, and heads in disappointed, but not surprised.

Now he's ready to see the naked ladies, so he figures he'll just order a beer inside. But that wasn't going to happen either. Not only is it not BYO, but it's also a dry bar. When the waitress asks him what he wants to drink, and tells him they don't have any beer, he ends up getting a juice. Seriously. A juice. At a strip club. Now Ted is in the strip club, watching a "19-year old girl paying her way through college" (i.e. 14 year old drop out from Russia), totally sober, drinking apple juice. It didn't take very long for him to decide to leave. I guess strip clubs kind of lose their appeal when there's no haze of alcohol to help you.

At this point Ted heads back home with his friends, determined to forget what a bizarre and uncomfortable night it's been already. So he starts pounding his PBR's, making up for lost time. At this point he decides to make a wizard's staff out of his empties. For those of you who have never made a wizard's staff, you basically just tape together the beer cans so they are all standing atop of another. Difficult or creative? No. Fun? Absolutely. So 16 beers later his wizard's staff is pretty god damn impressive.

Now it's about 3:00AM, which logically means its sandwich time. He and his friends make their way over to WaWa to make sandwiches with the amazing computers. (Sidebar: if you have never been to a WaWa it's incredible at all times. But even more so late night when you have been drinking heavily. Think of a much, much better 7-11, with every type of drunk food you can imagine, open 24 hours.)

So since it's 3:00AM there isn't a single sober person in the place. As people see Ted coming, with his wizard's staff of course, and they start cheering for him. He's chatting up every in the store, and at some point he gets into a conversation with some drunk douche. It goes something like this:

Douche: Sometimes you just have to hit women, ya know?

Ted: Um, no. I don't know.

Douche: No, not like beat them. But just shake them a little when they aren't listening.

Ted: I'm still going to go with no.

Douche: Yea, come on! Like, when you need to get respect from them. Just a slap or something, you know.

Ted: No, seriously, I don't.

Douche: (*Angry that Ted won't agree with him about beating women*) Well I bet you didn't actually drink all those PBR's! *crushes top can*

Ted: ARGGGG!!! *starts fight*

At least I imagine he made an "Arg" sound, I wasn't actually there. What I do know is this conversation lead to a massive fight outside the WaWa at 3:00AM. Everyone was fine in the end, Ted's friends dragging him away from the misogynistic douchebag. The lesson of this story is never, EVER touch someone's wizard's staff. And don't beat women. Or go to a dry strip club. Really it's whatever lesson you want to learn from this story.

But mainly, it's 'don't touch someone's wizard's staff.'


So remember, everyone is ridiculous, including douchebag's and the men they aggravate.


*Names have been changed to protect the innocent, the not so innocent, and myself.

"It was like the opening scene of Saving Private Ryan..."

The quote above was said in reference to Preakness 2008. If you aren't familiar with Preakness, it's the second most popular horse race (after the Kentucky Derby) in the country held in Baltimore in May every year. It's also a complete and utter shit show.

In 2008 my girlfriends Amanda*, Ruby*, Kim* and I traveled the ridiculously long trip from Boston to Baltimore for this time honored tradition of drinking copious amounts of alcohol while pretending to watch horses. I am going to paint you all the picture of the day, before I get to the real story, to give you some setting. It's 7 am and there are people, mostly in their 20's, lined up everywhere. Everyone is already drinking, but it's pretty tame so far. Most people have coolers filled with beer and ice, in addition to babypools to put all the beer in and tarps to sit on. You pretty much bring enough beer that you don't have to worry about buying any while you are there for the 12 hour day. So basically, a lot of beer.

(FYI: Preakness has since modified their regulations and you are now limited on the amount of alcohol you are allowed to bring it. This modification happened the year after I went, and I'm not surprised that the rule was changed in reaction to the ridiculousness of Preakness 2008.)

When most people think of horse races I'm sure they think of the pictures that are posted from the society crowd watching the Kentucky Derby. Upperclass men and women in their fancy pastel colored outfits, mimosa's and cigars in hand, obnoxious floppy hats on their heads. These people were there, but they were in the seats on the outside of the track. We, on the other hand, were in the center of the track. And that was a very different crowd.

As the day goes on, and the crowd gets drunker, dirtier (we were on a grass field afterall) and rowdier, things begin to happen. Fights start breaking out here and there. People have sex in the fields (seriously). Port-o-potty races begin. Port-o-potty races are when someone climbs on top of the row of toilets, and runs across as fast as they can, while people below are pelting full beer cans at them. Check out the video below for an example.






As it gets towards the end of the day people are not only dirty and occasionally bloody, but some people also get sick. Not everyone can drink for 12 hours straight. So you have, like I said before, the opening scene of Saving Private Ryan. Bodies every where, passed out on the ground, crawling, throwing up. It was gross. What was also gross was the amount of breasts shown.

All day long girls are flashing for free shots, free t-shirts, the crowds cheers, whatever. It's tacky and silly, and while we didn't participate in the flashing, we did comment on the girls who chose to. Many of these girls are decent looking, some even good looking. And you always know when someone flashed because from the general area you would hear "YEAAA!" or "WOOO!" (there were some very intelligent people are Preakness). But by us there were two girls who weren't getting any reaction at all.

One woman was way, way too old to be there. And way, way, way too old to be flashing everyone. She would climb up on a cooler trying to get everyone's attention, yell a bit, flash her goods, wait for the cheer, and hear... silence. The first time I felt bad for her. By the fifth time I was laughing. By the tenth I wanted to tell her to get a clue and stop that.

Shockingly she wasn't even the worst. There was another woman, and this was probably one of the largest people I have ever seen in my life. You know those TV specials about people so fat they can't get out of bed, and need the wall bulldozed down because they don't fit in the door, then need to be fork lifted out of their house? Yea, she was that big. She was trying all day to get some attention too, but was failing even worse than the old chick. That is, until, the end of the day.

She is completely topless, straddling some guy, making out with him for the world to see. The guy she was on top of was also extremely skinny, adding to the ridiculousness. No one was really paying them any attention until someone in the crowd yelled out the most perfect, epic, and priceless of all lines:

"HEY! IT'S ROB AND BIG!"

And it was. It was Rob and Big. I'm not going to lie, it was an awful thing to say, but I laughed.

So remember, everyone is ridiculous, including dumb, drunk, horse race watching fools.



*Names have been changed to protect the innocent, the not so innocent, and myself.

Bar Brawls 101

So I have a group of guy friends who tend to get into bar fights when we are out at night. Most of the time this is simply an annoyance. They pick a fight, we drag them out of a bar, walk down 2 blocks down the street and go into another bar, and the cycle starts over. However one night my one friend decided to start a fight with a girl. Well, strictly speaking she started the fight with him. And ridiculousness ensued...

It was my friend Ruby's* 21st birthday, and a group of us decided to go out and celebrate at the Purple Shamrock in Boston. We'll call the fighting boys Eric* and Ted*. The night goes on and it's typical birthday shenanigans. Lot's of dancing, singing, drinking, and no fighting (yet). It's the end of the night and Ted is looking for girls to hit on/talk to/buy drinks for/take home/whatever. So I, playing the part of "wing woman," was helping him scope out the scene. We spot a girl on the other side of the bar whom we decided was a good choice. Young, cute, fun-looking. Not crazy. (We were wrong.) We decided on a plan of attack.

Now this all seems very ordinary and in no way ridiculous. However I forgot to mention both of us had been drinking for a while, and although we thought we were being subtle, I guess we were being quite obvious. Our whispers were more like shouts, our smooth gestures were more like all out points. So she clearly spotted us discussing her, and she took it in the worst way possible. I don't even blame her for thinking we were talking smack on her, I'm sure it seemed that way. I do blame her for what happened next though.

She comes right up to us and starts yelling about how rude we were. When we try to explain what we were ACTUALLY doing she just isn't having it. This chica gets in my face and is calling me a bitch, blah blah, nothing that I can't handle. I'm ready to just walk away before it escalates, unfortunately I was too late.

Eric sees all this happening and is ready to go. So he gets in HER face and starts yelling. He was basically defending me, which I appreciate and all. But it was very unnecessary. So now Eric, who by the way is 6' 3" and jacked, is having a screaming match with this little 5' 4" brunette chick whom moments before I was trying to set my friend up with. This is just ugly and I can see what is going to happen before it goes down. But it's like a runaway train, it's just too late to stop it and all I can do is watch in horror.

The girl reaches back her hand, and nails out, goes straight for Eric's face. She claws him so badly that there is blood drawn. Not even a little bit of blood, girlfriend got him gooood. Now, I like to think that Eric would never hit a girl, however we won't know because the bouncer immediately jumped in at this moment. We were kicked out before we could even pay our bar tab (which wasn't such a bad thing).

So at the end of the day Eric was my hero for defending my honor, Ted went home alone, and I learned to be subtle when talking about someone. (I bet you thought my lesson would have been to just stop talking about people... but come on. THAT'S just ridiculous.)

So remember, everyone is ridiculous, including girls who hate compliments and like to scratch faces.



*Names have been changed to protect the innocent, the not so innocent, and myself.

The tragic tale of my first (and last) keg stand.

Now that I have started my first full-time, real-world, adult job, I've been doing a lot of reflecting on my college life. All of the drinks I drank, the spectacles I made of myself, the embarrassing situations I got myself into, and the friends I made. This story from freshman year combines all of those things in a beautiful, disgusting, over the top tale of love, trust, way too much tequila, and my very first keg stand. This story is also the reason I haven't done one since. Enjoy my 18 year-old stupidity in story form. (Also, sorry in advance Mom and Dad.)

So it's a Friday night and I plan on going to a party with my boyfriend of the time and my group of girlfriends (most of whom I still live with today). My boyfriend comes to my dorm room first with a bottle of tequila and I take about 7 shots of it with just him. Already a dangerous start to the evening. Dangerous, but typical. Then my girlfriends join us and I'd say another 4 shots were taken. Keep in mind this is over 5 years ago so exact numbers might not be correct. Then we head off to the party.

For anyone familiar with Boston, this party was on Mission Hill. So it was bound to be a wild party and a good time had by all. Once we're all the party nothing out of the ordinary is occuring. There are kegs of beer, loud music, lot's of people, dancing, games, fear of the cops coming, escape plans being mapped if said cops do come, etc. At one (exceptionally drunk) point I'm refilling my $5 solo cup of beer, (my God parties were cheap!) and I mention that I had never done a keg stand before. The kid I was chatting to by the keg shouts, "Keg stand virgin!!!" and the room is filled with people now encouring me to do my first one.

In all fairness, it did not take my encouraging on their part. I was all about it and flipped upside down within seconds. The amount of time I was on the keg I don't remember, nor is it really important. What is important is what happened next. The crowd in the room went from cheering the number of seconds I was drinking, to chanting, "Chase it! Chase it! Chase it!" as a bottle of Jack Daniels was shoved into my hand.

Now picture this. I'm 18, drunk, and having a great time. I just did my first keg stand and had a bottle of Jack in my hand. The entire party is cheering for me to chase it, including my boyfriend. And I see my friends on the other side of the room, inapparent slow motion, running towards me going, "Noooooooooo!!!!" As if that was going to stop me.

I take a shot, pump my hand victoriously in the air, and immediately fall backwards. Thank God my boyfriend was there to catch me, and subsequently help me back to my dorm right after that. It was lights out for Ashley. Tequila/keg stand/JD = 1 Ashley = 0. It was a TKO.

That is the reason I no longer do keg stands. Or drink Jack Daniels. But I do still love tequila.

So remember, everyone is ridiculous, including drunk college freshman who happily give into the crowds demands.

Worst. First. Date. EVER.

This is a ridiculous and tragic tale a of first date gone horribly awry. My friend Ramon* met a girl in a pretty normal way, at a bar on a Saturday night. They met, they chatted, they drank, they danced, they exchanged numbers, blah blah blah. Nothing exciting really. So numbers are now exchanged and there are plans in the making of hanging out the next weekend.

Now it's sometime midweek and Ramon begins getting texts and calls from this girl about hanging out. First they are going to get dinner, then she wants to make him dinner, and then she says she wants to pick him up and drive him to her place. So now he's getting a bit wary because there are some crazy flags rising, but he ignores them and goes through with the plans. He convinces her to go out to dinner instead of her cooking (on a first date? come on girl...) but she still insists on driving.

Now Ramon made a pretty huge unintentional mistake. He thought he was simply making plans for a dinner date on a Saturday night. He unwittingly made this sat for February 14th. Now a first date on Valentine's Day is NEVER a good idea, however it goes from a bad idea with a normal girl to a TERRIBLE IDEA with a crazy girl, which this particular girl turned out to be.

So they are having dinner and everything is normal enough. But then the girl starts talking about all the pills she's on. As she's revealing information that's far too personal for a first day, a whole nother bucket of crazy comes pouring down on Ramon's head. She's on pain meds for an injury she sustained, but now needs them to sleep. But her ex-boyfriend, whom she is still living with, keeps stealing them from her. Awesome.

Then she proceeds to get hammered at dinner and pick a fight with the woman sitting at the table next to them. You would think at this point Ramon would just want to get out of there, but it turns out that this girl is not only crazy, but she's also kind of a mastermind. Remember how she insisted on driving? Yea, the night is not looking so good for poor Ramon.

So they go from the restuarant to a club to have a few more drinks. The girl gets so drunk that she is actually cut off from ordering more drinks at the bar. Eventually they leave and Ramon is now forced to drive because she is clearly not able to. But before they even get to the car the girl starts throwing up in the parking lot. It's a Saturday night and there are lot's of people around witnessing this. So she is throwing up, yelling at Ramon to not look at her, and giving the finger to the multiple groups of people laughing at her.

So now they are in her car and she gets on the phone with her live-in drug stealing ex-boyfriend. She gets into a screaming match with him, telling him he has to leave because she wants to bring someone home. After a few more minutes of this madness, she gets off the phone and informs Ramon that they won't be going back to her place. At this point Ramon just wants to go home and forget this night every happened, but it's not over for him yet.

He lives at home so he can't bring her back to his place (just to sleep off her drunkenness, Ramon is a gentleman and certainly was not planning on doing anything with her). So at this point he starts driving around to try and find a motel to just crash in for the night. But oh right, it's Valentine's Day and there are absolutely no rooms available any where. At this point it's late, Ramon is tired (and very annoyed). the girl is still wasted, and he's checked at least 10 places to no avail. Fortunately a friend of his calls at this point, and after hearing about the situation he was in he offered to let both Ramon and the date stay at his place for the night.

Cut the to next morning. Ramon is awoken by his date SCREAMING in the basement. She has no idea where she is and is understandably freaking out. Once he calms her down they make their way home. On the drive back to Ramon's house the girl is going on and on about what an amazing guy Ramon is, how she can't wait to introduce him to her parents, and most ridiculous of all, how good looking their kids will be. Really lady?? You think Ramon is ever going to call you again, let alone MARRY YOU after the hell you put him through!?

So he is dropped off and basically decides to never speak to her again. If you think the story ends here you are very, very wrong.

She continues to call him and text him, and for the most part her ignores her. There is one day where he answers the phone however and she is freaking out. She tells him that there is somone breaking into her home and that he needs to go over and help her immediately. Ramon suggests she call her ex, but she says some BS as to why that won't work. Then he tells her to call her parents. But she says they are too old and unable to help her. At this point he makes the most obvious recommendation of calling the cops, and her response to this is that (get ready for the ridiculousness) her phone doesn't work. (YOU'RE ON THE PHONE CHICA!)

At this point Ramon has just had enough. So when she continues to insist that he come over, he of course, lies. Ramon tells her that he's on a business trip in Maine. She demands that he come home from the trip to help her. He says his boss drove and he doesn't have a way back. She tells him to take his bosses car. At this point it's pretty clear that he is dealing with a 10 on the crazy scale. So he convinces her to go downstairs to see if there is actually someone in the house. As soon as she does this, and says that there isn't anyone there (obviously) he hangs up on her.

She continues to call him for months, MONTHS after this epic date. But he wisely learned to never pick up her calls again.

So remember, everyone is ridiculous, especially crazy girls who decide they want to marry you on a first date.


*Names have been changed to protect the innocent, the not so innocent, and myself.

Canadian ridiculousness

So my freshman year of college I went on spring break with 4 of my girlfriends.  Since we were not of legal drinking age in the United States we decided to expand our travels beyond the American borders.  But since we had no money to fly south, we decided to drive north to Montreal... *start singing* Oh Canada!

It was actually a pretty fantastic decision that I recommend to all broke college kids looking for a fun spring break.  In 5 days we each spent less than $500 total.  Including gas, hotel room, food, and of course lot's of alcohol.  (We were 18, it was exciting!)  However the money saving aspect is not the ridiculous part of this story, so let me digress.

We quickly found a routine of sleeping in late, starting to drinking in the room early, then heading out for dinner and bars.  Our favorite bar was "Winston Churchill's" and we ended every night there without fail.  It was just a typical bar, but it had a dance floor, ton's of bars and bartenders, and sometimes contests.  Pretty much everything we were looking for.

The last night we were in Canada we were dancing away at WC's, having a great time, when a contest began.  Now as anyone who has ever been to Montreal, they are known for a few things.  One of those things are strip clubs.  So contest of the night was quite on theme, it was an amateur strip contest!  Of course none of us participated, but that didn't keep us from watching!

It started with about 10 guys and 3 girls.  (Let me just make a side bar here that NONE of these people should be stripping.  NOT an attractive bunch!)  Soon the music was going...*bow chicka bow bow*... and the clothes started to come off.  It started innocently enough a shoe came off here, a jacket there.  Obviously the boys were much quicker to take off their shirts than the girls.  But no one really took their time and soon enough mostly everyone was down to their underwear.  Now is when people started losing their nerve and dropping out of the contest.  First was 2 of the girls, then 3 of the boys who refused to go full monty.

There are 7 boys and 1 girl left.  All the boys in the bar that are watching are praying to God at this point that the one girl stays in the contest.  Because otherwise they are just watching a bunch of drunk, sweaty dudes dance nakedly in a bar.  Fortunately for them, she stuck it out.

So now there are naked people dancing, covering their junk with their hands, and it's awful.  It's like a really terrible car accident that you don't want to look at, but you just can't tear your eyes away from.  Within a few minutes they announced a winner, thank God, but sadly it was the drunk girl.  I only say sadly because of what she did next.

The prize for winning was $100 to the bar.  And she stayed and drank the whole $100 worth.  By herself.  Still COMPLETELY naked!!!!  While the other contestants immediately got dressed again, she did not.  I don't know if it was because she thought she hot enough to run around naked because she won the contest (no one is hot enough for that).  Or if she was too drunk to realize she was still naked (totally possible).  So we got to spend the rest of evening attempting not to look at the drunk naked girl, but how could you not?

Either way, it made for quite the ridiculous last night of spring break.  And I never want to go to a bar with naked people in it again, ick.

So remember, everyone is ridiculous, including spring breakers in Canada.

International Ridiculous

I spent four months in Italy last year and have many, many ridiculous stories from that adventure.  One in particular makes me laugh however, and I plan on sharing that one with you.  It took place on St. Patrick's day, the international day to be as ridiculous as you want to be.  Megan and I, as per tradition goes, made sure to have plenty of alcohol and had everyone over to our apartment to celebrate before we ventured out to the bars.

So it was the regular group of people we spent time with: myself, Megan, Adriano, Lupi, John, Andreas and a few others filtering in and out through the night.  The ridiculousness starts with the amount of beer with bought for the evening.  There was a brand called "Spoken Beer" that we could purchase for under 1 euro for a large bottle.  We bought 70 of them.  Unnecessary?  Yes.  Worth it?  Absolutely.  Then we went on a tour de Perugia in efforts to find the materials necessary to make a beer bong.  Traditions can't die simply because you're in another country!  So our insane funnel is ridiculous situation 1.

Eventually we had to succumb to the fact that they didn't have typical funnel making materials.  So we improvised.  We bought a two liter-sized coke bottles, a garden hose, and duck tape.  And I gotta tell you, it was a pretty amazing contraption!!  Ghetto, but it worked so we weren't complaining.  So everyone is at our apartment, drinking and having a good time, and Megan I do something pretty typical of us.  We run into the bathroom to do what we call "secret funnels."  I'm not sure why we do these, I think something about them being a secret just makes them funnier.  Mainly because they are clearly not secretive since we run into the bathroom with the funnel and beer.

Upon coming back upstairs ridiculous situation 2 occurs.  All of the boys in the apartment decided to take off their pants and act like nothing was different.  Not being sure how to react, we just laughed and kept on drinking.  It was pretty cold, but they were troopers and kept their pants off.

Now we had Italian neighbors who didn't like us very much.  I think a big portion of that was cultural differences.  For example Italians typically don't have company to their homes, they usually just go out and meet their friends in the city.  Americans like to have friends over to their homes for drinking, dinner, just spending time together, whatever.  So they probably didn't enjoy that we regularly had friends over, and most likely hated that we had 10+ people drinking at shouting on that night in particular.  So ridiculous situation 3 occurs when one of our neighbors starts banging on our door and SCREAMING at us in Italian.  Of course Megan and I had no idea what they were saying, but our friend Adriano did.  So she yelled at us threw the door, we yelled at Adriano not to let her in, and Adriano yelled back at her in Italian.  All we could understand was the word "NO!"  Over, and over, and over again.  She it went something like this:

Girl: FJSFAKJDGSFHSK!!!!! (Italian yelling)

Us: DON'T OPEN THAT DOOR!!!!

Adriano: HFSLJDKLDSFH!!  NO!  FHSJLFJSK!!  NO!  DJSFLHSFU!!  NO!

After that settled down we decided to do a few more funnels and head on over to the bar.  At which point Adriano feel down the steps in a drunken stumble.  While this isn't particularly funny, the fact that he literally complained about it for the rest of the night non-stop kind of is.  Sorry Adriano, but you were fine.  But all we heard was "Ahhh, I broke my back!" for hours.  He maybe had a bruise.

Then as we are getting ourselves ready to leave, the boys put back on their pants.  (Yes, they were pants-less this entire time).  When my favorite, and most ridiculous part of the evening occurred.  Megan and I realized that our friend John was a bit drunker than the rest.  Drunk enough that we could play a prank on him.

So we took his pants and hid them.  We blamed someone else.  And we convinced him that it wasn't a big deal to walk the streets of Italy and go to very crowded bars in nothing but boxers.  And he agreed.  So we spent the rest of the evening laughing hysterically at all the people who just stared in awe at the drunk American who wasn't wearing pants at the bars.  It was a St. Patrick's Day for the ages.

So remember, everyone is ridiculous, including American's living in other countries.

Party Like a Rock Star

This is throwback story from freshman year.  Since we were under 21 and sadly could not go to bars, we were regulars at house parties.  Some of our favorite house parties were the ones thrown by an MIT fraternity.  Now I don't exactly remember how we met the MIT frat boys, or how we ended up invited to all of their shindigs, but I do remember that they knew how to throw a great party!  At least twice a month my friends and I dug through each others closets for an outfit most fitting for whatever the theme of the night was, strutted our asses across the city, and partied with a bunch of smart, shy boys that were essentially terrified and intrigued at the same time.  We may have given Northeastern girls the reputation of being partiers, but what can I say, we were!

One night in specific stands out as being extra ridiculous.  The theme was one that asked for trouble from the get-go... Rock Star.  And once you put on those shades, leather, chains, and lot's of black, your inner ridiculous rock and roll goddess was out and ready to play!  Upon arriving the night wasn't much different than any other Saturday night.  Drinks were consumed, music was played, friends were made.  Same old song and dance.  As the night carried on we found ourselves in one of the bedrooms, just being silly.  The boy who lived in that room came to join us.

He believed that since it was his room, we should hook up with him.  I'm not really sure about this logic, but it was his belief.  One of my friends actually did make out with him, but one girl was apparently not enough.  So when he went for it with another friend, and she turned him down because she had a boyfriend, he called her a slut.  Again, I am not following his logic of not making out = slut, but whatever.

If you know me, I do not take people insulting my friends lightly.  So I proceeded to get into a fight with him.  It went something like this:

Me:  Don't call her a slut, you asshole!

Him:  Shut up, you blonde-hair bitch!

Me:  Tell me something I don't know.  Go un-pop your collar you f%!$ing douche!

Him:  *kicks us out of the party*

Which I guess he had the right to kick us out.  But we had our vengeance.  When gathering our belongs we may have taken a thing or two of his.  For example his big bottle of vodka and pack of condoms.  We kept the bottle for us, as a prize.  But we handed out the condoms to couples making out telling them to wrap it up.  Yep, we become the elusive and mythical condom fairies.

So remember, everyone is ridiculous, including sexually frustrated frat boys.

AAAHHHH WHITE PICKET FENCE!!!!

This is story is a classic from 3 years ago.  It was my sophomore year and I decided to throw a party in the crappy, run down, perfect for college apartment I was living in at the time.  As per usual with parties I had my closer friends come over early to drink before the rest of the attendees arrived.  Among the people coming early was a girl named Christina*.  Now Christina and I were never that close, but she was close with my other friends so along she came.  

Now some back story on Christina is needed for this tale.  She is A) a homebody, B) desperately wants to get married and have children IMMEDIATELY and C) kind of insane.  So in the beginning of the night there was probably only 20 people at my apartment, equal ratio of guys to girls, perfect scenario for her to talk to a guy.  Instead, she disappeared and did not make her reappearance until later when the party was in full swing.  I repeat, she is single, wants to meet a guy, but leaves during the time when meeting a guy is the most feasible at this particular party.

So the night goes on, people are getting drunker, and behavior is getting a bit wilder.  Not unlike any other college party.  I go into my room to grab something out of my closet and this is what I found.  On the floor of my walk-in closet is Christina, curled up in the fetal position with my blanket around her, mascara streamed all over her face from crying so much, and literally screaming at the top of her lungs.  But she wasn't screaming words, oh no, that would be too normal.  She was just screaming.  For apparently no reason.  During a party.  In my closet.

Amanda* is in there attempting to take care of her/console her to no avail.  I discover from Amanda that the reason Christina is so devastated is because she's single.  It was literally as if this girl had just found out someone had died she was so distraught.  May I again remind you that she was AT a PARTY with many, many BOYS!!  But instead of talking to them, she was in my closet.  Screaming.

At this point, I frankly don't care, and just go back out into the party.  All of a sudden like a hurricane Christina goes running as fast as she can past us.  Amanda is in hot pursuit of her, trying to convince her to stop or at least slow down.  Christina sprints out of the apartment, down the stairs, and out into the street.  Screaming the entire time.  Amanda is running after her cursing and wondering what the fuck is going on.  This continues for, without exaggeration, a solid hour.

Christina runs down the street, up the street, up my stairs, into the party, out of the party, down the stairs, to the street again.  At least point she is obviously drawing quite a bit of attention.  And I must say, there is nothing more attractive to a man than a hysterically crying, shrilling screaming, hot mess of a woman devastated about being single.

I should have made this girls name Sybil instead of Christina.  Needless to say, she didn't end up coming to any of my parties again.  But she did give me an excellent story to tell.

So remember, everyone is ridiculous, including sophomores who just can't handle a party.

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent, the not so innocent, and myself.

New Years Eve: Atlantic City Style!

I’m sure everyone out there has a ridiculous New Years Eve story.  It kind of just goes with the territory.  There’s lot’s of drinking involved, high expectations, and usually a lot of money being spent by everyone.  Sometimes that combination, particularly if some do all three and others only do two, can be deadly.  Or hilarious and ridiculous.  Let me explain.

My girlfriends and I, Amanda, Ruby and Kim to be specific, went to Atlantic City for New Years Eve.  So we already hit the high expectations factor.  Now don’t worry, all of our expectations were met and we had an incredible time.  However because we were in Atlantic City, everyone there had high expectations for the evening as well.

I think that the drinking factor doesn’t need to be explained.  Free drinks on the casino floor + 23 year olds who are seniors in college + my wild girlfriends = many, many drinks.  However we managed to avoid the third factor.  Incredibly we spent very, very little money considering where we were.  The bar we went to, Game On!, same owners as the one in Boston, had two deals.  We could have spent $100 + per person on table service, or $25 per person that included two drinks.  We decided that between pre-gaming and free casino drinks, paying the extra $75 wasn’t worth it.  Other people, as you will find out, did not come to such a logical solution.

After a few hours of dancing and being on our feet in general, we needed a break and wanted to sit.  We spotted an empty table.  And when I say empty, I don’t just mean void of people.  All other tables had bottles of liquor on it, cups, and party favors.  This table literally had nothing on it.  So we naturally assumed it wasn’t occupied, as tables in bars occasionally are.

Within 2 minutes a very drunk girl comes stumbling over to use in a sloppy rage, yelling incoherently about it was HER table.  She demanded we get up.  After laughing at her for a moment because of how ridiculous the entire situation was, we did oblige and left the table.  There was a table right next to it that was equally empty that we decided to sit in instead.  This didn't go over well with the girl also because as it turns out, it was also her table.  So after we laughed some more, she told us, "I paid over $400 for these two tables, so get up!!"  Our response, which only served to make her more angry, was, "Well, that was stupid."  Not the brightest thing we've ever said to an already angry drunk girl, but pretty funny.

So as her rage built her boyfriend came over to defend her honor.  And Ruby turned to him, and said every so sweetly, "You're girlfriend is a bitch."  As you can imagine, this did not help the situation.  After a bit more laughing on our part and yelling on their part we decided it was time to go back to gambling in the casinos.

Overall, very successful New Years Eve.  We won some money, drank some drinks, got into a fight, and did a lot of laughing.

So remember, everyone is ridiculous, including drunk bitches who pay too much for tables.

Pretzel, not pizza!

This is a short story, but a pretty entertaining one that lead to a saying that I think everyone will use.  Or at least should use.  The saying is pretzel, not pizza.  What it means, is something much more amusing.  Let me start from the beginning.

My one good friend, Amanda*, has some issues wearing dresses and skirts.  She tends to lose her femininity, and occasionally her dignity.  Her problem is that she forgets that she’s not wearing pants, therefore it is not appropriate for her to sit like a man.  So she starts cross-legged, or at the least with her legs together.  But that changes very quickly once a drink or two is poured.  Actually, strike that, the alcohol isn’t even necessary.  Her intentions are great in the beginning to stay a lady, but it doesn’t last long.

Sooner or later, we (myself and Amanda’s other friends) spot her from across the room with her legs in a not so lady like position.  And we have to shout across the room that we can take an up-skirt picture of her if we so choose.    But we wanted a way to do this subtly because we didn’t want to embarrass her.  So we had to come up with a code.

Now if you think about it, crossing your legs is similar to a pretzel.  And leaving them a bit open is shaped more like a slice of pizza.  Also, these two things are very easy to convey with yours hands.  (Crossed fingers v. peace sign on an angle)  So now, instead of having to shout, “Shut your legs, we can see your panties!”  We can shout “Pretzel, not pizza!!” with accompanying hand gestures.  Because let’s be honest, all sayings with hand gestures are much more effective and fun than sayings without them.

So remember, everyone is ridiculous, including panty-flashers at the bars.

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent, the not so innocent, and myself.

The epic tale of "Chair of Death"

This story is one that will be passed down for generations.  It's the epic tale of what happens when you agree to play a game that boys make up when they are wasted.  NOT a good decision.  

A good friend of mine, Johannah*, made this decision about two years ago.  It was Easter weekend and she decided to stay at Penn State since it would have been too challenging to get home.  As the majority of her friends decided to go home, she ended up there for the weekend with primarily male friends.  Not that this is a bad thing in itself, but it did lead to the situation pertaining to this story.

Cut to Saturday night and the start of the alcohol consumption.  They started with a round of beer pong, quite common pre-gaming college activity, so no surprises yet.  However after beer pong they decided to move on to Soco (Southern Comfort for those of you not in the know) pong.  Already, an extremely poor decision.  Drinking games with hard liquor rarely end well.  But this specific decision did not end up with (SPOILER ALERT!!!!!) an extremely gross black eye and a concussion.

Next came the brilliant plan to play "Chair of Death."  Let me explain to you this game.  You sit in a chair that spins while holding/drinking a beer.  During this time everyone else spins you as fast as they can.  Now the main point of the game is to drink your beer and stay on the chair as long as you can, until you fall off from the spinning.  Also, you can NOT spill your beer.  Sounds like fun, right?  No, it sounds like the worst idea a group of drunk college boys have ever come up with.  And of course Johannah agreed to play.  What a trooper.

So the first round of spinning she drank, she didn't spill, she fell, everything was fine.  There was a lot of cheering and smack talk.  But let's consider her success beginners luck.  Because then she tried again and her second round did not go so smoothly.

She drank, she didn't spill, she fell... directly onto her face.  Apparently, in her drunken state, she did not realize that she hurt herself.  But once she got up off the floor, everyone else kind of freaked out.  Black eyes of this severity apparently show up pretty quickly.  And the blood vessels that she popped in her eye were pretty intense, essentially making her entire eye red.  After people ran to grab her some ice for her eye she made sure to take care of herself by going to a hospital...  oh wait, no she didn't.

It wasn't until the next day when she had a throbbing headache that she realized that maybe it would be a good idea to see a doctor.  Lo and behold, she had a concussion on top of her black eye.  So the lesson of this tale is, never, ever, EVER play a game that drunk boys make up.  It can only end in pain and gross eyes.

So remember, everyone is ridiculous, including and especially drunk boys and the girls who are friends with them.

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent, the not so innocent, and myself.

What happens when you decide to stay home and drink...

This summer was a pretty fantastic one.  Full of wonderful friends, beach days, bbq's, and of course LOT'S of ridiculousness.  This one story in particular had to be pieced together by everyone involved over the next few days... this was what we came up with.

One night this summer myself, Amanda and Ruby decided to stay in as opposed to going out to a bar.  After a lovely dinner we began doing some "light" drinking on the front porch.  The boys who live above me saw this and joined in.  What started a few beers and some nice conversation quickly turned into shot taking and story telling hour.  Let me again clarify that this was supposed to be a low-key night.

It's now about midnight and we realized we haven't seen Ruby for a little while.  We discover her praying to the porcelin gods and making it quite clear she is DONE for the night.  So even though Ruby did not make it past midnight, this speed bump did not slow down Amanda or myself.

Now the boys we have been drinking with for a the better portion of the night invite us to a party they are going to.  Here's where things begin to get hazy and multiple perspectives had to be brought together to finish the story off.

We went to a house party in the area where Amanda and I were playing beer pong.  And by playing beer pong I mean hugging/stumbling so much that we fell and completely took our the table.  We left shortly after that.  I don't think we left a great impression on our hosts.

Then we went to the Linden Suprette (a ghetto Store-24 by my apartment).  In addition to buying snacks we begged the owner to give us porn.  But not just any porn, tranny porn.  We were so amused at the idea of tranny porn that we wanted the magazine, however we did not want to buy it.  Surprisingly he did not give in to us.  I guess we weren't meant to see it, huh?  (In retrospect I'm really glad he didn't give it to us because I'm not sure how I would have reacted the next day, also I think it would have been burnt into my brain forever.)

At home Amanda decided to get to know our one neighbor a bit better and she disappeared.  In addition to her disappearance we discovered one of our upstairs neighbors passed out on the couch on the front porch.  This couch we lovingly refer to as the "aids couch" because we think homeless people sometimes sleep on it and it gets peed on occasionally.  So being nice girls, we try and wake him up because his bed is LITERALLY upstairs!  We then find out this isn't an unusual occurrence for him, so we let him sleep.

The next morning when we are grilling Amanda on what happened the night before we discover her phone is missing.  We decided it's upstairs some where, but they can't find it either.  Sadly she decides it's lost forever, a small token to pay to the party gods if I may quote "Clueless" (and when is it ever not appropriate to quote Clueless??).

A few weeks ago we were moving furniture and we found her phone behind the DVD rack!!  How it got there, we'll never know.  But was it a wonderful, and ridiculous, night?  Absolutely!

So remember, everyone is ridiculous, including your neighbors!

Happy Birthday to...*boom* She fell off the toilet!

This tale of a dear friend Amanda* and her birthday in 2008. Amanda's birthday's are always what we like to refer to as "a shit show," and 2008's took the cake. It started innocently enough, the plan was to have everyone drink for a bit then head out to Revolution Rock Bar, one of Amanda's more frequented spots. Just a little FYI to those of you out there who haven't been to RRB, it's a bit more dressy, no cover but expensive drinks. So in order to counter-act the price of the drinks, the drinks were poured more freely before leaving. (In theory, if you drink more ahead of time you won't drink as much at the bar. As this story continues, you will see that things don't always work out as planned).



Upon arriving at RRB we discover that while there is no cover on Friday's, there is a $15 on Thursday's, and wouldn't you know it Amanda's birthday fell on a Thursday this year. So we did what any broke college kid would do, we marched our sparkly dressed, high heel wearing selves down to Sissy K's which is around the corner from RRB. A bit more information for those of you who are not family with Sissy K's; it is the antithesis of RRB. It's small, dirty, casual, cheap and a straight up pub. Also, it has karaoke.


The highlights of this night at the bar include myself singing "American Woman" with a 50-year-old, Amanda making out with some guy in the middle of the bar, and us earning the nickname "The Infamous Ashley, Amanda and Caitlyn.*"



The real fun began once the clock struck 2 AM, and we were forced to vacate the bar. Myself, Amanda and Caitlyn took a cab home, with Amanda's make-out buddy and his friend in hot pursuit of us. Evidently she invited people home for the "after party." Amanda, as graceful as she is drunk, eats shit the second she steps out of the cab. And as soon as Caitlyn and I have her on her feet again, turn to pay the driver, BOOM she's on the ground again!

Half-carrying her into the apartment to clean her now bloodied knees, we are all still pretty riotous. Our next mistake was believing she could use the bathroom on her own. From the kitchen, where Caitlyn and I were preparing snack's for our drunkchies, we hear for a third time that night BOOM!


Lying on the floor, with her dress pulled up and her tights pulled down, is Amanda with toilet paper in one hand and the seat cover in the other. "I fell off the potty!!" She declared. Yes, obviously.


Oh and evidently the toilet cover was meant to keep her stable, but she ended up taking it down with her in her fall. It was found the next morning in her room because she didn't want us to see it. Bit too later there...

The night proceded to wind down from there. The guests Amanda invited came over, ate some pizza with us, nothing too exciting. They did however stay the night, which leads to my favorite part of this story.

As Caitlyn and I were preparing some breakfast the next morning we got a phone call from an extremely hungover Amanda.

Amanda: Ughhh guys I keep throwing up at work. Ugggghhhh...
Us: Um, we're sorry. Can we do anything to help?
Amanda: Yea can you look in my room for my camera. I just want to make sure it made it home with me last night.
Us: Yea no problem. *click*

As I proceed to dig around Amanda's room for her camera, Caitlyn announces she's going on Amanda's computer to check her email. As soon as she opens her laptop a website is up that is similar to when you finish watching a Youtube video and it has the circle button that says "Play again." But it wasn't Youtube.

It was Youtube.

And we clicked it.

There, in all their naked glory, was a couple going at it in an amuteur porn video!!!!! Amanda watched porn the night before!!!!!

We later discovered that the friend that slept on the couch played it as a joke after Caitlyn and I went to bed. But it did not stop us from ragging on Amanda for months to come.

And then posting this story on my blog.

Everyone is ridiculous, including (ESPECIALLY) birthday girls!

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent, the not so innocent, and myself.

The Boneyard

This story has been told countless times by myself, my friends, my family, my friends family and most likely complete strangers.  It's because this story is the epitome of all things good and absurd in my life.  Also I figure if I'm going to be blogging about my friends, I better start with a ridiculous story starring yours truly in all fairness.

It starts out as a completely ordinary Friday evening in January of 2008.  Myself and a few of my roommates were out looking at apartments in Allston for us to move into the following September.  After a couple of hours of being uncomfortable in other people's homes, we decided to call it a night and get some dinner.  Any of you familiar with Allston will know Soul Fire.  For those of you who do not, it is a delicious bbq joint with some incredible ribs for crazy cheap.  I highly recommend it.  

Nonetheless I get these very yummy ribs, and I per usual get way too much.  Get home, eat ribs, put leftovers in fridge, move on to the next part of the story.  Seeing as it was  Friday night, the drinking began and we eventually made our way out to a bar.  Cut to later that night, I come home and have what we affectionately refer to as "drunk-chies."  It's like getting the munchies, but when you're drunk.  Yes, I know most of you are familiar with the concept, don't deny it!  So I take my ribs and disappear into my room for the rest of the night.

The site of myself the next morning is sadly something I will never get to experience because my roommate who saw me did not take a picture.  I haven't decided if that's a good or bad thing.  The scene, as she described, was as if I killed and ate a small animal in my bed.  I was dead asleep and there was bbq sauce on my sheets, my face, the wall.  There were bones in my bed, my hair, the floor.  Additionally the TV was still on and I never took off my glasses.  So moral of the story, no matter how hungry or tired you are, never EVER forget to lock your door at night so you're roommates can't see you in such a ridiculous state.

Everyone is ridiculous, including myself.