Because I’d win him over with my personality and good looks? I need him drunk.

Louis CK because I’m a masochist who hates themselves and enjoys being sad.

EDIT: would also totally bone Louis CK

Bradley Cooper. Yeah, he’s an alcoholic. But I’d comfort him after he has drunken sex with me.

Ruth Bader Ginsburg, of course! But I’m glad the Dude’s whole bowling team cracked the top 10.

My dad once bought a beer for an already-drunk Bill Murray after a Bears game. So, according to my dad’s account, Bill is a pretty fun drinking buddy. Also give me one reason J-Law wouldn't be a baller drinking buddy. The people voted and I say they chose correctly. What can I say? I'm a lemming.

No love for Meryl Streep, then? Or Sally Fields? I guess Melissa McCarthy doesn’t look like a fun beer buddy? Ian McKellan and/or Sir Patrick Stewart? Christopher Walken? Just me then? Okay.

Why would there be any other answer to this question besides Sir Patrick Stewart and Sir Ian McKellen????? Why would ANYONE not want to drink a beer with these guys???

Peter Dinklage. And I don’t care if she doesn’t drink, I'd give my husband's left nut to have a coffee with Carrie Fisher.

Patricia Clarkson.

She’s the number one celebrity I want to smoke a blunt with but if I’m being honest with myself I couldn’t possibly hang out with her in the club I’m tired just thinking about it.

Helen fucking Mirren.

I'm sure the baby and its diaper was minor to whatever shenanigans you claim to have undertaken as a seafood restaurant employee: http://kitchenette.jezebel.com/there-was-a-ti…

I would spell it out on their mucus membranes if I caught them.

TESTIFY!

The kind of fucking weirdo who, like, maybe has an anxiety disorder, or is overwhelmed, or has been yelled at by customers threatening them with physical violence?

Hold up, Dave Long's story reminded me of the night a walk in 20 top came in and took up my friend's entire section. They were completely insufferable: extremely demanding, couldn't understand why they couldn't sit together and had to be seated at different tables (we just don't have the space for The Last Supper kind…

Apropos of nothing except pure nostalgia... I used to have a job where I had an executive assistant (it was a magical time when venture capital flowed like water and the economy had not yet tanked...). His name was Jason, and his family owned a local small cinema like the one in Callie's story. He would occasionally…

I was actually told, by a customer, that I was a "race traitor."

I would have been tempted to start tossing popcorn down my clothes during the ending credits while making pleased sounds. "Sorry, hot oil and salt get my motor running, if you know what I mean."