Last Xmas day.
I was invited to go to a party on Xmas day last year. The people that ran the place cleared it with management and opened the place for a select few. There must have been around 50 of us in the place, tops. All this in a place that has a capacity for around 2000, so was a very odd, and cold experience.
The management had also purchased, at trade price, two 3 litre bottles of JD, 2 3 litre bottles of vodka and seemingly endless amount of lager / ales. Plus the free usage of the coke / lemonade tap behind the bar.
Within minutes of getting there, everyone was moaning about how they've really not enjoyed the day so far and how their family was arguing etc.
I then realised that a few of my friends have disappeared somewhere. I must remind you I was stone cold sober at the time. One of my mates turned up and said "go upstairs to the office" where I found the most amount of columbian nose candy I've seen in one place. I partook, as you do and wandered back down the stairs to the rest of the people.
One bloke managed to bring along a bottle of absinthe which I said I wasn't going to touch. As the spirits were pretty much free-pour, a few hours I started to feel a bit mashed.
Around 1am is the last time I can remember. Next thing I know I woke up in my own bed, with no trousers on.
Later on Boxing Day, my mates filled me in on the details of the previous night with much mirth.
Apparently, as I was the only one not to have touched Absinthe out of the whole party, they dared me to have a shot of it. I vaguely recall this.
For the next 20 minutes apparently, I was running around like a nutter trying to chat up the lady who normally works on the door, completely ignoring the fact that her bouncer boyfriend was at the same party.
Around 10 minutes after I'd calmed down, they found me, at the bottom of a metal staircase, face pressed up against a fire escape. I'd fallen down the stairs, and at some point, taken my trousers AND my boxers off. Amazingly, my wallet and phone were actually in my jacket pocket.
One of the people there who was sober managed to drive me home, open the door and help me inside. I still don't know who that person was, if they really were sober, or what the FUCK happened to my lower half's clothing.
Coke and Absinthe. Just say "fuck off"

PS No-one ever found my trousers.
( vulga is a foul mouthed cunt, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 12:19, Reply)