EUGENE, OR—Though he has only the haziest memories of what happened between the time he left work Friday evening and woke up late Sunday afternoon, marketing associate Ben Taylor told reporters today that during his 36-hour drinking binge, he somehow managed to sort out his entire financial situation.

"The last thing I remember is getting a second tray of two-for-one mug-a-ritas with the guys from work," Taylor told reporters. "Next thing I know, I'm coming to on my couch, I'm nauseous, my head's pounding, and I'm fully vested in a Roth IRA that's completely deductible and contains a diverse spread of steady dividend-paying stocks with an impressive tax-to-growth ratio."

"How the fuck did this happen?" added Taylor, who upon waking also discovered he had left his front door wide open with his keys still in the lock. "Three days ago I didn't even have a savings account."

Assessing his situation, Taylor quickly discovered that his car and mobile phone were missing, and that his pockets were full of beer caps, crumpled napkins, and $465 in itemized drink receipts with an attached note from an accountant explaining the full amount could be written off as entertainment expenses.

While attempting to find his shoes and clean up the pan of burnt macaroni and cheese he found on the stove, Taylor placed calls to the police, several friends, and various financial advisers whose business cards he found on his nightstand.

"Turns out the accountant was a nice woman named Lauren Weisner," Taylor said. "When I asked her if anything had, you know, happened, she just said I'd seemed more interested in ways to set up tax-deferred accounts to save for retirement while also moving myself into a lower income bracket."

A fatigued and dehydrated Taylor said he cheered up after a return call from police confirmed the location of his Lexus, which he had traded back to the dealer for a more economical and fuel-efficient Toyota. And while the 38-year-old admitted he was disappointed to discover he had vomited repeatedly in his kitchen sink, burning out the garbage disposal in the process, he added that the damage was covered by the renter's insurance he evidently took out Saturday morning.

Taylor also told reporters that while rummaging through his medicine cabinet for ibuprofen, he discovered a new smartphone that turned out to be his—the result of an alcohol-fueled decision to switch to a carrier both cheaper and better-suited to his needs—and a quick glance at his call history revealed he had repeatedly dialed three ex-girlfriends, two doctors, and a brokerage house specializing in puts and margin calls.

"I thought Ben had a lot of nerve, calling me at three in the morning on a Saturday, considering how things ended between us," said Rachel Kornblum, 37, who shared an apartment with Taylor until their split last October. "But it turns out he just wanted to tell me he got a doctor to write a letter affirming we were both in a state of mental duress when we broke our lease and we should be getting back $4,281.67 within 10 business days."

After another call, Taylor confirmed he had left several messages telling investment brokers that as soon as the markets opened they should short several particular stocks, increase his holdings in various commodities he believed likely to rebound, and then "come on over here and have a fucking drink you sons of bitches."

Taylor, who conceded he was still recovering from his lengthy but financially advantageous bender, said he might never know all the details of his lost weekend.

"There's all kinds of things I don't remember, and though most of them are documented in this big accordion file I found on the coffee table here, many questions remain," Taylor said. "Like, how did I get my credit rating up over 750, and on a weekend? Did I really sell my Jet Ski for more than I paid for it? Why is there an entire pizza in the glove box of my car? Lucrative or not, I don't think I ever want to get that drunk again."

"Also, for the life of me, I can't figure out if I fucked that accountant lady," Taylor added.