Your Most Ridiculous Failed New Year's Resolution

Happy new year! If you’re like most people, you’re greeting this 12-month period feeling an internal pressure to improve yourself. But we all know that new year’s resolutions typically end in failure, so you might as well make yours something ridiculous and not-all-that disappointing when you totally bomb. March is going to be a long, terrible month; no need to throw a dose of self-deprecation in there just because you didn’t subsist on cottage cheese for three months and go to the gym six days a week. (That’s not healthy, anyway.)

In 2015, my resolution was to stop drinking so much beer. Not even to stop drinking beer, or even the more ambitious aspiration to stop drinking entirely, but to stop drinking so much beer. I gave in within a week after a Swedish friend surprise-visited me and wanted to go chug a few brewskis. I failed at keeping my resolution, but I bet you can top my story. Let’s hear about your most ridiculous resolutions and the ridiculous ways you broke them, like the time you attempted to take up parkour and busted up your ankle trying to jump on top of a dumpster. You can define “ridiculous” any way you want—it’s just gotta be over the top, and failed.

And now, for your sloppiest New Year’s Eve stories from last week.

I’m not sure how dro033333 is alive:

Its the new years eve two weeks before my 21st birthday and this kid we knew from high school was having a NYE party at his dads bar in Chicago. We buy a handle of whiskey between the three of us and some bottles of champagne.

End up drinking on the el the whole way to the party and kill the handle just before getting there. The party is in an upstairs back room that we get to from the alley. Usual shenanigans go down and I’m blacked out within 30 min. Last I remember I’m going outside to pee off the second floor stairs then its the morning and I’m on my friends downstairs sofa. There was a huge pile of shit on the floor and I’m like fuuucckk.

I check my pants and the couch but there isn’t a trace of shit any where else. So I go upstairs and notice that my left ring finger is black and swollen the size if my thumb. My friends mom is up there and I’m expecting the worse from her potentially seeing me shit her house. Luckily she apologizes and says it was the dog, so maybe it wasnt that bad of a night.

I was wrong. I go up to my buddies room and he just had a shit eating grin on his face and was like dude…So I ask what happened and hes extra surprised that I dont remember. Apparently I went outside to pee and ended up falling straight down the two story, straight shot stairs and landing on my head/neck in the alley in a pool of piss from the party. The kid hosting the party apparently saw the whole thing and freaked out as I was unconscious. My other friend checks my head for any major cuts, apparently through a hair full of piss (that’s the homie) and I didnt have any. He knew my parents would kill me if I took an ambulance and he said he knew I was cool when I woke up and told him to get the fuck off me.

Apprently my buddies immediately rounded up and carried me back to the train stop. The funniest part was that they said I came to twice where it seemed like I was fine. Once when I started walking on my own but tried to crip walk and fell into a parked car with someone in it, then another when I randomly woke up on the train but then slapped my friend for no reason.

But overall just ended up with a fucked up finger that healed after a week and the shame. Not too bad.

Zukka was iced with actual vodka and I’m sober now:

When I was in college, my 2 very good friends who were dating at the time (actually, they still are dating 11 years later! Good for them! Why aren’t they engaged yet? Hmmmmm) and I were partying at my friend’s dorm, drinking lots of champagne and wine with our friends. One of my friends dares me to chug a bottle of Smirnoff. No, not Smirnoff Ice- I daresay I’ve been Iced enough to know how easy that is. Actual smirnoff 80 proof vodka. So I say fuck it, I rip the top off and start chugging vodka. For about 7-10 seconds. As soon as my friend saw what I was doing she was like WAIT HOLY SHIT ZUKKA WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!?!?!? and rips the bottle away from me.

Fast forward an hour or so, I have to take a piss so I go to the bathroom. My friend knocks on the door “Zukka, are you alright in there?” “Yeah I’m fine, why?” “What, you’re not puking?” “Puking? Why would I— OH SHIT I HAVE TO THROW UP” And I spend the rest of NYE in my friend’s bathtub puking in the toilet, then passing out, then waking up to puke in the toilet again, then passing out again.

In retrospect, I am very very lucky I did not need my stomach pumped.

cisum88note was left with a battle scar, and that is sloppy canon:

I was super drunk because we had been pregaming with grain alcohol (yeah 180 proof!!!) and then went to a bar. I fell in the bathroom of the bar, hit my chin, knocked myself out for a few seconds, blood everywhere. Other people screamed and called someone who was an EMT over. They demanded I go to the hospital because my chin wouldn’t stop bleeding. I finally convinced the bouncer, EMT, and bartender that my friends would take me (one was the DD), but we left and I did not go to the ER! Instead we went back to my friends’ apartment and did shots in the hottub in the snow. I still have the scar under my chin as a blessed memory.

And A Red Baloon in the sky’s story will make you feel like a fucking square:

I live in Buenos Aires and this friend from abroad came over to visit for the holidays. We had planned a fairly quiet NYE: dinner reservations and maybe a drink afterwards. But then these friends texted me and invited us over to their apartment. We ended up mixing more booze and weed than we should have, and after a couple hours there, moved on to a street party a few blocks away. We’d brought a bottle of vodka from my friends’ place, and when that ran out, we just started befriending strangers and drinking from random drinks they offered us. I don’t remember every detail, but I do remember at some point everybody in the street (50-70 people?) attempted and failed to set up a choreography to Macarena. There was also a moment in which a police car drove by, and my friends and I started twerking on the car. Luckily the policemen took it in stride, otherwise it would’ve been a very eventful night for all the wrong reasons.

The party kept going until 7-8am, and then my foreign friend invited us over to his hotel room. It didn’t took much before the 5 of us turned his hotel room into a sleazy porn movie set. The problem is that, AS MOST OF YOU KNOW, having an odd number of people at a sex encounter can be a little awkward for that one person having to wait for their turn. In this case, it was my foreign friend. I swear we were trying to include him as much as we could, but apparently that wasn’t enough in his drunk mind. So all of the sudden, he stood up from bed and stated yelling us to get out of his room, saying we were being disrespectful with him, for accepting an invitation to his room and then “rejecting him”. We barely had the chance to pick up our clothes before he locked us out. As we got dressed in the hotel hallway, we tried to make some sense of what had just happened. I went home to sleep and woke up hours later to his texts apologizing for being a dick.