"You, Sir, Staring Me In The Eye, Appear To Be The Obligatory Piece Of Corn In My Digestive Juices" And Other Tales Of Crapulence (919 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.75 on 12 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Draqus (View user info) at 2005-08-19 16:04:49 EDT
When you wake up in the morning, in your bed, like usual, but with a strange bedfellow, it's never a good sign.
When the bedfellow is a pool of, well, vomit, you know the last night was something stupid.
And so it was for me, last night. Along with the realisation that my bed was totally and utterly *fucked* (and that i would have trouble explaining it to the parents), came the realisation that I had become the kind of person that I despise. I'm not sure which was worse.
At one pint down, that night, the place was just beginning to buzz. At three, the suggestion of a shot of absinthe seemed like a good idea. Up until that point, things had been great.
At four, we changed venues, but everywhere was packed, so we ended up where we began. I sank five and six without thinking much about it. At this point, everyone was my best friend, and i was accused, more than once, of being incapable of shutting the hell up for any length of time. That was getting me nowhere with the ladies. Bear this in mind: it is actually possible to be too drunk to pull.
A friend bought me seven and most of it went over my sleeve. At this point, I'm forced to rely on what other people have reported to me. I'm *told* I downed a glass of vodka somewhere along the line, and I'm pretty certain there were a few more pints in there as well, but I can't recall them at all, and recalling drinks is something that I'm generally good at.
Needless to say, we got kicked out. I remember waving my id very forcefully in the bouncer's face several times, before being told to "fuck away off", and falling over. Somehow, we ended up outside another joint, but I was waiting for a taxi with another reveller. The taxi idea had to be scrapped, because a third member of the farce-that-was was clearly incapable of dealing with a taxi, and his sister was summoned- after being woken up- to cart us all home.
The aofrementioned third member had to be let out of the car to be sick- or so i'm told- and it was only the fact that I was totally out of my skull that prevented from panicking at the location: the Short Strand, one of the roughest places in Belfast.
*Somehow* I got home. *Somehow* I got into bed. *Somehow* I thought being sick in bed was perfectly permissible. But I don't know how.
There is a moral to the story, and that moral is: watch what you're drinking. If I had seen myself in the state I was (I managed to figure out that the scratches up my arms, inexplicable until a friend filled in the details, were from my inability to stand on my own two feet) I would have felt a numbingly bitter scorn.
I am, by nature, someone who is extremely reserved, and who endeavours to hold back at all times. I am also aware that living like that, with your life in monochrome and the contrast turned down, whilst everyone around you jumps in technicolour, is impossible. The result is that I wind down in gigantic bursts. The largest so far happened last night.
You may think that this is a bitter diatribe against the evils of alcohol, but it isn't. It's a confession, and an organisation of the facts as I know them, because I need it. I think alcohol is great; I believe it has a lot going for it, but the question that I'm asking myself is: can I blame it all on the alcohol, or do I have to face up to the facts and admit that there is a little bit of blind stupidity, ball-aching idiocy, gold-award foolishness, residing in my own head?
I have, seemingly, become the kind of person that I despise. And the worst thing?
If you gave me half a chance, I'd do it all again.
User Reviews
Submitted by DonovanMD (user info) at 2005-09-04 14:18:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Your stomach is like a bar. You've got your Scotch in one corner, wearing kilts and playing the bagpipes. Your vodka in the other corner shooting pool, speaking in thick accents and with very manly looking women. And then in comes Tequila all "eh man! How you doing tonight eh?" Then all of a sudden its a racial war and you end up puking as the bartender shouts, "EVERBODY OUT!"
Submitted by c1ndy (user info) at 2005-09-04 14:06:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
spaz
Submitted by MANICMOTHER (user info) at 2005-08-27 15:02:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-08-19 16:29:17 (#)
Ranking: 1
I just so love that picture.
Submitted by Chillax (user info) at 2005-08-27 14:27:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Aye...that was shite. My sister was dead good about it, though. Parents were a little bit angry, though. Disappointed perhaps better word.
But that ain´t happening again, cos I hated it. I´m going back to the way it was before that - where I´d get tipsy enouygh to have craic and then stop.
Submitted by Fungah (user info) at 2005-08-20 13:12:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Once I was passed out in a tent drunk at a bush party and my friend walked by as I was puking and said: what are you doing? To which I responded, puking on this guy. Ha ha ha ha he was covered in it.
Submitted by Shifty (user info) at 2005-08-20 01:12:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Alcohol is great.
Mixing it is bad.
The morning is always worse..
Submitted by Jeanneee (user info) at 2005-08-20 00:58:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
That's not you, that's Urbane.
Just kidding Val, you know I love ya.
Submitted by MrSparkle847 (user info) at 2005-08-19 19:08:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Is that you sleeping on the table?
Submitted by sideshow (user info) at 2005-08-19 16:59:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Great picture. I swear I know her...
Submitted by mxc_jwebber (user info) at 2005-08-19 16:57:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'd hit it.
Submitted by goose (user info) at 2005-08-19 16:30:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Ah, it takes me back to college.
And last weekend.
And three weekends before that.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-08-19 16:29:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
I just so love that picture.