posted
My day was spent mostly doing some of my favourite things. I started off the day awaking uncomfortably on the floor of someone’s house. I wasn’t drunk, it’s just that this someone doesn’t have much furniture, and certainly nothing suitable for sleeping on. I wasn’t in London, but I’ll say London for argument’s sake, and because I’m not totally sure.
From there the day only improved. On my way home I was delighted to find myself held up for over an hour and a half in the giant traffic jam known as the M1. I was somewhat relieved that I got through the traffic that quickly actually, since the signs suggested that the delay might last 80 weeks, and I only had an apple in my bag to sustain me. If nothing else, sitting with my roof down breathing poisonous exhaust gasses in the baking hazey heat, I certainly managed to get a reasonable tan.
Fortune smiled upon me though and I managed to get home just in time for the start of the Grand Prix, which was obviously most excellent. I was a little disappointed when I got into MK as I came across a rather racey Lotus Elise which I was going to have a go at, but then we got onto a straight and the thing went off like a rocket leaving my poor car for dead.
After the race (F1) I had a shower and thought about dinner, but decided not to since I’d be consuming a frightening amount of calories in the form of Guinness later on, and also because, y’know, eating’s cheating.
So then it was off to the pub. A quiet affair to start with, seemingly taking a long time to get going. We sat outside making idle chitchat, bemoaning the fact they had karaoke on that night. But it started to get better when more people started to turn up. I had to stop asking people for free drinks at one point when I found myself stacking. Dan the bar man wrote my name in the top of one pint, and put a picture of balloons in another. At some point (my memories become somewhat hazey from here on I’m afraid) the call went up for some manner of drinking game. It was called Kings and involves drawing random cards from a deck, and each card had a certain rule attached. For some reason I couldn’t quite work out, it seemed like every card that I, or anyone else, drew from the deck, resulted in me having to nexk a significant amount of alcohol. This was almost certainly the beginning of the end. From this point onwards there’s a reasonable gap in my memory. I remember drinking more, having more free drinks. At some point I found myself being ushered inside, and towards the stage where, despite my gravest protestations, I then found myself and Dan the bar man serenading the assembled crowd with a somewhat shambolic rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody. My enthusiastic air guitaring couldn’t begin to makeup for my frightful falsetto wailing.
Of course by this point I was ready to get funky, and I cut some shapes on the dance floor. Among various freestyle dance moves, I performed a slightly knowing version of the robot. Dancing makes me horny of course, as it does any other beered up red blooded man, so I simply had to find the least appropriate person to crack onto. This came in the form of the ex girlfriend of one of my closest mates (he wasn’t there). “If you weren’t Steve’s ex, I’d totally fucking do you”. Yes, a true PUA at work, I’m sure you’ll agree. Amusingly she replied with something along the lines of wanting to do me too. I groped her boob but that’s as far as I was prepared to go. A little later on, I decided to have a crack at my ex, which went slightly better.
I then went for a piss and did a wet burp into the urinal. I was amazed as, having drank approaching double digits in pints of Guinness, the vomit was thick and black like treacle. In fact, I think I turned to a pisser next to me and said something like “fackin ell, look at that, it’s fackin black ahahah”.
And then, alas, it was time to go home. I crawled into a taxi which ejected me by my house. The last thing I remember is getting into my bed, having a frenzied drunk wank, then falling immediately asleep.
The hangover I had the next day was…. Well let’s just say the punishment fit the crime.
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posted
Only 25? That must mean that when he joined TMOs predeccessor SeeThru he was only 18 while I was 34. It makes me feel so old all these young people on the net.
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posted
Yeah, just 18. Funnily enough I seem to remember plenty of people complaining at the time, about turning 25, while I mocked them for being old. Who would have thought back then that nearly 7 years ago I'd still be chatting away with the same group of people on the internet. Crazy huh.
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scrawny
One Mojito, two Gin and Tonics, Three Bacardi Lime Sodas, and a couple of pints of Stella please.
posted
happy Birthday Ringo! I beat you by three years and a day x
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quote:Originally posted by Ringo: I started off the day awaking uncomfortably on the floor of someone’s house. I wasn’t drunk, it’s just that this someone doesn’t have much furniture, and certainly nothing suitable for sleeping on. I wasn’t in London, but I’ll say London for argument’s sake, and because I’m not totally sure.
posted
Happy belated birthday to the pair of you - I could give excuses about being out of the country and thus missing this thread and TMO in general, but I'm sure you don't want to hear all that guff, so please just accept my apologies and congratulations.