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Inspired by this drunk guy at Coachella last week, I am going to recount some of my drunkest moments. Obviously, this excludes the times I’ve blacked out (or as I like to say, traveled through time).

1. Drinking in the name of science: 2005
When I was in college, I wrote for this publication called the Fish Rap Live! It was UC Santa Cruz’s “alternative humor” newspaper, and as an overeager freshman, I was desperate to prove myself as a worthy contributor. Hence, one of my very first articles was titled, “On Pace To Drink For A Week,” where I set out to have an alcohol-only diet and then chart the results. Truth be told, I only lasted through lunch on Day One before I vomited in my laundry basket and gave up. I fabricated the rest of the article and was too embarrassed to admit it until right now '“ which in retrospect is sort of retarded because my editor had to have known I was lying. Oh well.

2. Halloween in Isla Vista: 2007
For those of you who don’t know, UC Santa Barbara’s Isla Vista doubles as UCSB student housing and a giant 24/7 shit show full of herpes, Natty Ice, and barbecues. Halloween in particular is especially insane. On this night, I literally lost my pants. I don’t know where or how, but I have to assume it happened while I was pissing in the middle of the street in front of a cop, sobbing hysterically. But I didn’t puke that night, so good for me.

3. Papa Roach at the Ventura County Fair: 2007
My friend Kristy and I thought it would be a really great idea to sneak alcohol into the fair and see a shitty band play. And it probably would have been if we hadn’t gotten so drunk that we had to be carried out of the mosh pit. I wound up trapped under a picnic table, covered in mustard from a corn dog that I had dropped in the dirt and wiped off on myself so I could still eat it. This was a bad idea for a number of reasons, the primary one being that I puked up said corn dog all over my shoes on the bus ride home.

4. Tequila on Kennan Street: 2008
Senior year of college, my friend Claire and I lived together in this cheap apartment in a weird stretch of Santa Cruz. One night we bought a fifth of tequila from Trader Joe’s, and while I can’t remember what brand it was, I’m pretty sure it came in a plastic bottle and had a skull on it. In my last moments of lucidity, we were taking shots with hunks of apple instead of lime and I was making quesadillas. Cut to the next morning: my room was COVERED in vomit. I hit everything: my bed (sheets, comforter, and mattress), my wall, my books and notes, clothes hanging up in my closet, and my boyfriend. I also had a bad burn on my hand, which I sort of remember getting the night before by putting my entire palm down in the quesadilla pan to see if it was still hot; and according to all the blisters, I had presumably left it there for several seconds. I had also called my mom.

Now that I’ve officially exposed too much of myself on the Internet, it’s your turn. What are your favorite drunk stories?

photo from Voodoo Village

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Rebecca Pederson - Cheap Date

Rebecca graduated from UC Santa Cruz with a degree in Literature, but she tells everyone she majored in Psychology so they don't ask her for book recommendations. She likes coffee, pickles, free yoga classes, and spends a lot of time with her dog.