The Wildest 'Sporting Event' Party You Attended

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The Super Bowl is this weekend—an annual event Americans use to day drink and ignore the fact that the NFL is hella racist and has always been hella racist. I could go on about that, and the domestic violence that exists both in the network and across the country, but instead I’d like to focus on you. Specifically, the wildest “sporting event” party you’ve ever attended. Who went flying into the waxy queso hours after it was served? Who tried to crush a full cerveza can on their forehead? Bonus points for non-Super Bowl answers, because fuck that.

And now, let’s check out last week’s winners—these are your most ridiculous breakup:

cappygirl, this is def ridiculous:

I had been seeing Andrew (yes, that’s his real name) for about a year when mutual friends of ours announced their engagement. These friends were the first in both of their families to marry, so both families wanted to make the wedding A Very Big Deal. The adorable couple (henceforth known as AC) made all the plans, and the wedding was set for early August in Southern California (both the bride and groom came from the Los Angeles area and met in Chicago).

About a month before the wedding date, AC decided to take a long weekend at the groom’s father’s cabin in upstate NY to chill before the last month of intense wedding-related activities took up all their time. Andrew announced to me that AC had asked him to join them on their long weekend, and he was going to go. I found this very strange: after all, Andrew and I were an established couple, and we had spent lots of fun and friendly times with AC. The fact that they didn’t ask me to join Andrew in the long weekend felt like a big slight, but I thought that maybe they upstage NY cabin maybe didn’t have lots of room, or some other naive notion. Of course I later learn that of course, SC had asked Andrew to invite me in the weekend, and Andrew “forgot to ask me”.

Anyway, Andrew and AC go to the cabin and have a nice weekend. Andrew calls me late on Saturday night of that weekend, which I thought was weird, since Saturday night is the middle of the weekend. Andrew wanted to tell me about how he spent his time at the cabin, and he mentioned that the bride’s sister, Emma, came out to the cabin as well, so it was the four of them. You can imagine that I began to feel a bit uneasy at this point. So Andrew proceeds to tell me that after AC went to sleep, he and Emma started up talking. He says to me, “So I fell very attracted to Emma, and I felt like she might like me too, and I asked her if I could kiss her, and she said yes. We kissed for a while, and it was really great. Then I asked her to come to my room in the cabin, and she did, and laid down and kissed in the bed for a while and I asked her if I could take off off her shirt, and she said yes, and I started kissing her breasts, and after a while I asked her if I could go down in her, and she said yes, and it was great...”

You might imagine at this point that my head was about to explode, and you would be right. He still continued telling me, his girlfriend, about his sexual experience with another woman (and for clarity: this was an exclusive, monogamous relationship). At the point at which I couldn’t hear any more, I burst in, tearfully, with “WTF were you thinking?”, and he responded with, and I quote:

“I thought we had broken up.”

NOPE. No break-up conversation had occurred, nothing even remotely like that. Of course at the point I was done with Andrew, and he seemed a bit befuddled to my reaction (of course: in them his tiny walnut brain, WE HAD SPLIT UP). I was completely undone, and he was weirdly unaffected by this.

The wedding and all the hubbub were somewhat strained, but I managed to have a good time. Oh, and the AC? Andrew had said that they were really happy that he and Emma had hooked up. NOPE, part two. AC told me that they were mortified when they learned how Andrew had behaved, and told Emma that Andrew was very much part of a couple. This made Emma feel ver embarrassed, and she wanted nothing to do with Andrew at the wedding.

Epilogue: About two and a half years after this, Andrew called me out of the blue. Blah blah blah epiphanies, and he basically asked me if, since he had moved to Ann Arbor, if I wanted to be in a long distance romantic relationship with him. NOPE.


StillProbablyWrong, this is the best and most boring breakup I have ever heard:

Mine is only ridiculous in how mundane and... perfect (?) it was.

I was dating a woman who lived a fair driving distance away, and it was a casual kind of thing, and about three months in I grew bored with the relationship and it was obvious to her. So one day she called me, and said since I seemed to be disinterested, did I want to break up. I had never had a healthy, clear-communication based relationship and told her I needed to think about it. I called her a few hours later and said yeah, we should break up. She replied, “would you like me to mail you back your CDs?”... uh yeah? Ok. Then. SHE DID. I got a package in the mail a few days later, with all of the CDs I’d left over at her place. She then called me a few days later to see if I got the package, and then invited me to come join her and her friends on a ski trip (I had previously gone with them on one when we were dating, however, I politely declined).

It was so smooth and easy. To this day, I think very highly of her and wish her nothing but good fortune. I know of no one in my life who has ever had such an easy, casual break up.

There was no way I wasn’t going to share the Blink-182 story, huh, blink182goat:

Blink-182 broke my up with my first girlfriend.

I dated my first girlfriend (Kristen for this story) during the summer of 1998.

Late nights talking. Holding hands. Lots of making out. We even got busted once making out in her bathroom by her little sister, who promptly ran out to tell her father. He was surprisingly cool about it though.

In the fall of ‘98, Blink-182 performed in a local punk/alternative music festival. Blink-182 was on tour for Dude Ranch and I thought Blink-182 was the greatest band ever. I went with my friends (Kristen did not come) and managed to get right up next to the stage. I rocked out like the skinny teenage suburban punk that I was to the charming antics of the original line-up of Blink-182.

At one point, Tom DeLonge pointed into the crowd and yelled, “Let’s see some boobs.” (See? Such charming antics.) Since I was plastered up to the front of the stage I could not look back. Based on Tom’s response, I presume his request was granted. (This particular antic did not stick out to me at the time and since I can’t remember almost anything else they did the subsequent events are likely why I can still recall it so vividly.)

I got home at 2 a.m. The next day after church I called my girlfriend. It was clear from her tone that she was pissed.

B: “What’s going on Kristen?”

K: “Nothing...”

B: “How was church today?”

K: “Fine...”

B: “Did you do anything fun yesterday?”

K: “No...”

B: “Are you upset?”


B: “Are you sure?”

K: “You know what happened...”

B: “Um . . . I don’t know what happened. What are you talking about?”

K: “At the Blink-182 show...”

B: “Um, they’re my favorite band and I had a lot of fun but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

K: “What about what they said?”

B: “They made some jokes but I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

K: “My friend went to the show and he told me about what they said about seeing boobs...”

B: “Oh, ya, Tom did say that but I really didn’t see anything.”

K: “You’re supposed to be getting ready to serve a mission (religious) and I don’t think you’re taking it seriously if you’re going to things like that.”

Despite my protests and explanations she was still quite furious so I suggested we take a break for a week. She said she didn’t believe in taking breaks so I said “Then I guess we’re broken up?” She said fine. And that was that. (And no. We never got back together.)

So thanks Tom and Blink-182 for breaking me up with my first girlfriend!

Carouse on over to the comments below. (Get it?)


URL: Senior Writer, Jezebel. IRL: Author of the very good book 'LARGER THAN LIFE: A History of Boy Bands from NKOTB to BTS,' out now.

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I have a very small extended family, only seven cousins including me on both sides of the family combined. But, my mom’s college roommate married dad’s college roommate and mom married dad! So every year, the original four women and their families get together at a really rural cabin. Have up to 30 people some years in a four bedroom place (they borrow the nearby neighborhood lodge/community center for people to also sleep in). Pontooning, tubing, waterskiing, and paddle boarding along with such heavy drinking I am honestly surprised no one has DROWNED in 40 years of doing it. It’s like having aunts and cousins besides.

But, we also play sports and games and LOVE competition. This ranges from the fairly normal (sand volleyball), to the somewhat unusual (spikeball, a really silly water game that involves knocking beer bottles off poles driven into sand under shallow water with Frisbees, various variants of “let’s bother the dogs,” a distance swim from the middle of the small lake to back in), to the downright STUPID.

The stupid event is the Great Shoe Race of 2019. Neighbors and any hangers on are also invited to participate and/or watch, since the more shows the better. The neighborhood makes an event of our annual party weekend, often watching to see what those crazies will do next.

So anyway, game time! Our group of about 20 goes to a large patch of open grass, with an even larger party of people watching and drinking and cheering. Everyone over about 14 is drunk.

The neighbors and those who didn’t want to play make a huge circle around the 15 or so players. The players are all in my generation ish except for my very fit mom and one aunt. All players remove their shoes and an impartial party chucks them into a pile at the opposite end of the field. The object is to be the first to find and retrieve your own shoes.

I am so short I immediately see the problem with this, as four of the players are at or over 6’3”. So I line up with the others to start and hatch a plan.

Coming off the line, I immediately trip the 6’6” cousin of mine. He is surprised and running next to his twin brother, who he instinctively grabs for and thus trips. They start fighting as each believes they tripped each other. My brother stops to break them up. My aunt is the first to reach the shoe pile and starts THROWING OTHER PEOPLE’S SHOES over the heads of the laughing crowd to stop the other players from getting to them. My mom gets there next. They started arguing, which escalated into a shoving match. Several players go to angrily retrieve their shoes from what was thrown into the land of Far Far Away. Someone there trips someone else, falls into the crowd. More arguments. More thrown shoes. A few spectators decide to confuse things by throwing their own shoes in. Some shoes hit people.

Someone grabs a SuperSoaker to break up the fights, accidentally hits me in the ear. Literal water spray right into the eardrum. I scream and wrest the damn thing out of the guy’s hand.

Finally, my uncle has the bright idea to run back to the dock and grab an air horn from the boat. And between the air horn blasts and many more water sprays, everyone finally stops yelling and fighting.

The totals:

20 minutes rounding up shoes

Two black eyes

One ear infection (me)

one sprained ankle,

And one shoe never found again.