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Who Should Be Crowned Drunk of the Year??

KELLY O chose her six favorite drunks from 2011. You pick the winner! The drunk with the most votes gets to be on the cover of our Regrets Issue next week.

by Kelly O

So I did not know this lady vampire banana when she walked into Vito's and sat down at a table with me. I was dressed as a man—in drag, with a blond handlebar mustache. She sipped on a White Russian. I sipped on a Burnt Turkey. I think I tried to tell her some jokes, but I was forgetting all the punch lines. After a second Burnt Turkey, I don't remember much—in fact, I didn't even remember meeting any vampire bananas until I turned on my camera the next morning and saw this picture. My camera is my backup brain, and I'm really grateful to have it.

Annie's milk shake brings all the boys to the yard. Let's face it, gay dudes got Grindr and can get laid in less than 15 minutes—sometimes by someone in the same bar. It takes a little longer for the straights. It also sometimes means you have to drink a lot of milk shakes (or booze, or beer, or wine) to loosen up enough to get up the courage to go talk to someone. After a couple of drinks (or 10), Annie started shaking her milk shake on the dance floor and somehow ended up doing some drunken aerobics. All the straight boys came. Or at least wanted to.

Did you know that scientists predict that, unless something drastic changes, wild orangutans will be extinct by the year 2023? "At the current rate of habitat destruction, orangutans could be extinct in the wild in 10 to 20 years," anthropologist Cheryl Knott wrote in National Geographic in 2004. Spotting an orangutan is extremely rare. That's why I was beyond shocked to find one drinking Budweiser at the Wildrose. Juggalos on the other hand, they're everywhere and highly adaptable to many, many habitats.

No other neighborhood in Seattle parties harder in the streets than Georgetown—especially after the annual Dead Baby Downhill Race. That post-race party is like a neighborhood block party, except everybody is totally shitfaced, and they end up rolling around in the middle of the road together—sometimes naked, sometimes inside traffic barrels.

It's Easter Sunday, and a shirtless, shoeless, very disoriented man with tree branches stuck to his head stumbles into a bar. He says, "Hear ye, mortal, I, Son of God, am thirsty!" What kind of drink do you buy him? Surely (I mean, just look at him) he needs something a lil' stronger than the average fellow. What sort of cocktail do you buy a man such as He? This happened at Pony, which is more than just a bar. It's a magical fantasyland. You just never know what you're going to see at that place.

Sarah is the kind of person my mom always tried to teach me how to be. She's in control of her happiness, she makes her own fun, and she really doesn't expect anyone else to be responsible for entertaining her. I mean, shoot, if the world is gonna give you a bunch of crappy lemons, grab your penis gun and a cold Coors Light and go kick it with a bunch of unruly bikers at a motorcycle rally in Soap Lake—the shining jewel of Eastern Washington.