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Walk of Shame – The Lingerie Stumble

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One morning I woke up at the frat house ready to leave, when I realized that all I had on was lingerie (the night before it had been a lingerie party).  Shiiiiiit!  I couldn’t walk home in that.  Mind you I walked to the frat house wearing that (but it was dark and I was drunk) so that doesn’t count. So I wake up the guy I had stayed with and asked him if I could borrow clothes.  He throws me a pair of sweats. So I put them on and head out the door.

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April 29, 2008 Posted by | Walks of Shame | , , , , , | Leave a comment

This weeks Regretful Submission

Name: Rob

Age (at the time): 21

Profession (at the time): Student

Location: Dallas

Set the scene. Frat house

I don’t wear underwear.  I don’t know why I don’t, I just don’t.  I feel that boxers crawl up my ass crack and briefs smush my sack. 

It was the week before summer break.  We had been throwing keggers all weekend long at the frat house, and the brothers were inviting every sorority girl and bar tramp that they came across.  It was Saturday night and our house was packed.  I noticed a cute red head looking at me while I filled up my cup so I decided to chat her up.  Her name was Kristi, and she didn’t even go to our college.  She seemed nice though and looked like she fit in to the cute Sorority chick category.

Just as I start to hit it off with her, I hear my friend Jeff yell “we need to make a beer run”.  Everyone knows that even if you have the best party on campus, its going to empty out as soon as the booze runs dry.  He slapped me on the back and told me to come along.  I wasn’t thrilled at the fact but I wasn’t going to let him go alone since no one was stepping up.

After about 2 minutes of driving we realized that the liquor store was closed.  I start thinking that this wasn’t such a bad thing.  At least I had time to chat up Kristi some more.  Jeff did not share the same opinion on this.  We drove around for what seemed to be hours when Jeff suddenly slams the breaks on his F-150.  There, on the other side of the street was what looked like a couple of coolers and a plastic trashcan.  Towards the back of the house there seemed to be a lot going on, but the basketball court/parking garage area seemed to be deserted.

I’ve had beer stolen from me before and I was pissed, so I was hesitant to follow Jeff over to where the coolers were.  I mean, who knew what type of crowd was on the other side of the house?   I finally mustered up enough courage and jogged across the the street.  Sadly, the two coolers were basically empty.  A few cans of Bud Light in one and a couple of wine coolers in the other.  This wasn’t even worth the hoist.  Then I looked inside the trash can.  It was beautiful.  There inside a pile of melted ice was a king keg.  Jeff gave it a few pumps and flipped the nozzle.  A stream of non-foamy beer squirted out of the nozzle. 

We were both excited beyond words.  I ran to the side of the house to make sure no one was coming.  The sound of people splashing around in water reassured me that this was going to be like taking candy from a baby.  Both of us grabbed hold of the keg inside the trash can and attempted to lift.  This thing had to be a good 60 to 80 pounds and covered in melted ice water.  As we almost have the keg lifted out of the ice, the bottom of it catches the trash can sending it crashing to the concrete.  Ice and water spilled out over the court as we hobbled over to Jeff’s truck.

We pop the tailgate and start fumbling to get it loaded in the back.  We were struggling and I start to panic.  Just then I hear someone in the distance shout “who the fuck are those guys!?”  Jeff runs for the drivers seat and fires up his truck as I attempted to slam the tailgate.  The front of my pants caught on the top of the tailgate as I dove into the truck.  I heard a small rip, but this was a minor price to pay to the beer gods.  I look back surprised to see that the guys from the pool party had not even started chasing us.  I curled up into a ball hoping that no one caught a plate number.

We get back to the house and call a few guys over to help us with our score.  The button on my pants was completely ripped off so I needed someone else to carry the keg as I held my pants up.  Kristi was no where in site so I filled up my cup and plopped down on the couch.  I was exhausted from what we just went through so I don’t remember much more about the night.

The next morning I wake up on the couch to what I think is a killer BJ.  I look down in horror and let out a scream.  My half ripped jeans were somewhere around my knees and I had what appeared to be a poo like substance all over my junk.  The neighbor’s Jack Russell Terrier was licking this substance off of my junk, and behind him were about 8 people laughing their asses off.

I scrambled to get my jeans back on and took off out the door.  Later I was informed that I passed out half exposed on the couch.  At this site, some of the brothers decided to play a small prank involving peanut butter and the neighbors dog. 

I still shudder at the thought of seeing that dog, and some of my friends still call me by the nickname I was given “brown hog Rob”.

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March 27, 2008 Posted by | Regretful Stories | , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment