Does anyone else here besides me even drink? Seems everyone is pretty straight-edge. Well, even if no one else does, you can at least vicariously enjoy the (mis)adventures I've had while under the influence. I'll do my best to recount the events as best I can, but please bear in mind that in all three of these stories I was incredibly shit-faced, so my memory is foggy at best.
Also keep in mind that I haven't had an adventure like this for almost a year, which for me is a REALLY long time to go without getting alcohol poisoning.
I'll try to relate them in chronological order.
Okay, so the first story I have took place in May of 2003. A prof was going to Ireland for the summer, and she asked me to housesit for her and take care of her cats. She also said I could use their car and have parties if I wanted to, as long as the police didn't end up showing up. I gladly housesat for them, though I think my perscription sunglasses somehow fell into their luggage, because I never saw them again after that first day.
So a few days in, I decide it's time to have a bash. A creepy pseudo-friend of mine's birthday was coming up, so it was a suitable excuse for us to get pie-eyed. Everything was in order. I built it, and they came.
Among the people who came that I am no longer friends with (long story there!), one of them was quite famous for his very potent punch. Potent in that it was so alcoholic that you couldn't even taste it because it burnt the fuck out of your tongue. Aaaah, I loved that stuff.
I was drinking the classy combination of shots of tequila followed by a bottle of Rev, a super sugary cooler kind of drink made from guarana. A female friend of mine said, "Hey Jon, wanna play '1-2-3 drink a cup'?" Naturally, I obliged.
The object of this game is to count to three (relatively quickly) and then drink a whole glass of punch. And then to do it again, and again, and again, until one of the participants could no longer continue. I'd like to point out that at this point, I'd already had about 5 shots of tequila and 2 Rev and was in no shape to continue drinking, by my philosophy is that if I can stand, I can drink. And stand I could, so drink I did.
I can't really remember a whole lot else after that point, except for when the four girls that referred to themselves as "my hos" were getting ready to leave. One had a girlfriend (incidentally, this was my current girlfriend) but the other three were single. Capitalizing on this 75% singleness, I drunkenly slurred at them, "No nonono, c'mon up and see the bedroom, the bed is soooo big."
Just to stop your thoughts right there, no, we didn't have an orgy. But I did make out with three of them, and one of them ended up spending the night in the bed with me. Score!
My body wasn't quite finished with me yet, however. I decided at 6AM that I had slept long enough, and it was time to take care of a few things. After talking to Ralph on the big porcelain phone for about 25 minutes, I managed to suck back some water to get back into bed a seize for about 5 hours, getting up intermittently to vomit.
Incidentally, I was trying to get on the go with the girl I ended up sleeping with, but shortly afterward deemed that her psychotic and egocentric personality deemed her to be "undatable." Shortly after, she was expelled from the ranks of "my hos" and to this day remains standoffish to us.
Yes, this story wasn't the best one, but I just had to set up a few things, like my proclivity to drinking far too much, and the physical ramifications this has. I really shine in the next story...
The following summer, sometime in June, I believe, a super straigh-edge, Catholic aterserver friend of mine had a party at his parents' house, and the very idea of drinking there seemed sacriligious. That's probably why it was such a smashing success!
About 15-20 of us showed up, and the festivities rapidly got underway...and maybe a little out of hand! At this party I decided to drink my newest concoction that I found to be quite tasty: coconut rum (I brought a 26-er of it...I think you mainlanders call that a flask) and V8 Splash. I know it sounds weird, but it was really good at the time. Even the thought of it makes me urge now, though.
So the first thing I decided to do was to play drinking ping-pong with a guy who is no longer a friend of mine. The rules of this game are simple: every time you have a point scored on you, you must take a drink. The thing is, though, once the alcohol kicks in, you start getting scored on a lot, and since it goes to 21, you're in great form by the end of it. I had about 3-4 tall glasses of drink at this point.
When we went upstairs, we were getting all set up for the Animal Game (yeah, we play a lot of drinking games). Basically, everyone does a rhythmic pattern (hands on legs, chest, clap, clap, repeat) and you have to do your animal callsign to the beat and associate with a hand gesture. So how it works is, someone starts, they do their gesture and then someone elses, then that person does their own, and then someone elses, and the game keeps going and the beat gets faster and faster until someone fucks up and can't remember. Then they drink.
I picked the cobra. I have no idea, but I had a cool hand gesture for it. I thought it was cool anyway.
About halfway through the game, my friend's now-girlfriend knocked over my drink, and I screamed bloodcurdlingly. Incidentally, had I been able to drink that drink in addiition to the drinks I'd already had, plus the one I poured immediately after, I almost certainly would've ended up in hospital. That would've been moritifying!
So I polished off slightly less than 26 fluid ounces of coconut rum. I can't really remember what happened after the animal game, but I remember people wanting to head downtown. Even though I was as drunk as can be, I insisted that I be taken home. See? I'm still smart.
After being noisily sick out the window of a now ex-friend's van after assuring him that I was fine, he dropped me off at my house at around 3AM and peeled out down my street like the fucking asshole he is without making sure that I got into my house. How sweet of him, because it turns out I forgot to take my keys with me when I left.
Shit...
I tried the door and, naturally, it was locked. We didn't have a spare key outside, so I resolved that the best solution was to climb up into the flower bed and knock on my mom's window so she could let me in. I did this a few times and waited in front of the door. She didn't answer.
Here's where things get really funny.
I went around to the back of the house and tried the back door, which was also locked. That means I had one hope left: to scale up the side of my patio and go in through that door. Swaying drunkenly, I evaluated my chances of executing this successfully and determined that I probably wasn't going to get up there, but I was determined to try. So I jumped up and grasped the edge of the patio and hung there for about 20 seconds, marvelling at how little I could actually feel my arms.
I started giggling, let go, and lay down in my back yard and fell soundly asleep for about 10 minutes. I got up and decided to check the front door again and found my mother on the doorstep looking around. I gratefully entered, took off my shoes, curled up in the porch, and went to sleep. I woke up shortly after and crawled a few feet further down my hall until I passed out again.
Repeat this a few more times until I finally reached the bathroom, where I knew I'd need to be when I woke up, and I slept for about 3 hours.
And then it started. I was so sick, I thought I was going to die. I was sick from 6AM till nearly 7PM, almonst 13 hours of vomiting, seizures, a splitting headache, and eating dry cereal. And I spent the whole day with just me and my doggy. I promise that he got me through that hang over. Nothing soothes like the sympathy of a dog.
At around 7, I finally got up the nerve to drive over to Wendy's to get some food, which was the bandaid that really fixed my stomach. I made it!
That's the end of that story. While it's the sickest I've been, it's definitely not the most ridiculous of my escapades. I've got at least 2 other good ones...good God I'm sketchy! Oh well, I'll post them tomorrow.
EDIT: Oh, I forgot something that made my horrid illness affect me a little more than it normally would have. I donated blood earlier that day. So needless to say, I never gave blood and drank on the same day ever again.
And this, ladies and gentlemen is why I don't drink.
Ditto that, and not to mention that it's a waste of money.
And it destroys the mind. And shrinks penises.
I don't drink 'cause with how much I screw with my family when they're drunk (Irish/Scottish makes up my entire family, needless to say our reunions are a laugh riot. At least for the sober people.) I once talked my sister into riding a pig around the yard like a horse
.
UnknownH Wrote:And this, ladies and gentlemen is why I don't drink.
Ummm...why exactly? I didn't relate any experiences that ended up being negative or hurtful. I just had a lot of fun and then got sick afterwards. Nothing serious
Wisemon Wrote:Ditto that, and not to mention that it's a waste of money.
I guess it depends on how valuable money is to you. Personally, I think an evening of hilarity with a large group of people is worth $25, especially if you can only arrange for it as infrequently as I'm able to.
Herr Mullen Wrote:And it destroys the mind. And shrinks penises.
Don't know where you got those figures, but according to them, I shouldn't have had either a brain nor a penis after my first year of university. Moderation is the key! I show moderation in that I don't drink like that often at all.
shadowknight Wrote:I don't drink 'cause with how much I screw with my family when they're drunk (Irish/Scottish makes up my entire family, needless to say our reunions are a laugh riot. At least for the sober people.) I once talked my sister into riding a pig around the yard like a horse .
Your sister sounds hilarious!
Okay, so here's this next one. It's a bit less severe. This happened...hmmm, February or so of 2004. My friend had just given a recital and we decided to head downtown for some drinks, a truly excellent idea.
So we arrive at an Irish pub, generally our favorite kind of place to frequent, and started having drinks. There were about 8 or 9 of us there, including my now-girlfriend but then friend who is a girl that I was dating. Anyway, I have no idea what the deal was, because I started to feel very unwell very early into the evening and after only about 2 or 3 drinks. I can usually handle much more than that and not even feel it, but it was killing me this night.
So I get a glass of water and put my head of the table and fall asleep. About 20 minutes later, my stomach tells me that it's time to wake up and take care of business, so I get into the bathroom and start vomiting into the garbage can. Delight of delights, there was quite a bit of blood in my vomit. My friend came in to check on me and said we were going to leave. I told him I couldn't because I still had to puke.
Here was his gem of an idea.
"Okay, Jon, I'm going to punch you in the stomach really hard so you'll get sick, and then you can go home, okay?" Naturally, I refused to participate in this idiocy, saying no and shaking my head emphatically.
Apparently, I wasn't convincing enough and as I stood up he socked me one right in the stomach, knocking the wind right out of me. So I couldn't breathe, I had a pounding headache, and I was vomiting blood. Lovely...
My then friend who is a girl tried to drop me off at the hospital, because I was still feeling horrid, but I told her to just drop me home, I'd have some water and sleep it off. Immediately after I said that, I lost consciousness. I woke up a few minutes later as she pulled me out of her car and took me into her house. She said she wanted to take care of me to make sure that I was okay.
Awwww....and we weren't even going out yet.
So I threw up again, and then the seizures began. So I shook and puked and puked and shook for a while until, cold and clammy, I was finally able to fall asleep in her bed while she played with my hair. I woke up with a terrible hangover, but I made it all thanks to her.
senjuro Wrote:Your sister sounds hilarious!
Shadow: Only when she's drunk. Plus I don't know about the genitals but it will put severe strain on you heart, liver, and brain. And I don't plan on wasting my brain anytime soon.
Shadow's brain: Awww, I feel loved.
Shadow: Don't be. I only need you so I can remember e-mails and phone numbers. Once I buy that palm pilot you're as good as dead.
Shadow's brain: Ohhhh, now I'm depressed again.