Sprint drinking
We were regulars at our local for a good few months so were lucky enough to be invited to the landlord's Christmas Eve bash. I'd become something of a connoisseur at this point in my life and decided that cherry brandy was the drink of kings. Mixed with coke it's quite easy to knock back and before I knew it I'd downed about a dozen. Amazingly not pissed though I switched to straight brandy and despite being told all my teenage years never to mix my drinks I moistened my tonsils with Southern Comfort, Vodka and Jack Daniels. In an awesome display of sobriety I was holding my own and still able to talk this rather attractive lady into giving me her phone number. I don't know what happened next though; she must have traded places for her friend because I was approached by a bouncer for flirting with his pregnant fiancé. I talked my way out of getting a hiding and he gave me the rest of his drink while he went to eject some ruffians.
The rest is a blur and to this day I claim the "half a lager and lime" he left me with was spiked to fuck and back. After downing it, according to my mate I disappeared to the toilet to vomit non-stop until he got worried and came to find me. I was literally on my knees moaning at the bowl about how I should be left to die right there. He'd been necking quite a few shandies too but we came to the decision that we'd drunk more than enough and it'd be best to head home. I looked at the clock above the bar and it shamefully read 9:00pm. We'd been drinking a grand total of an hour and a half.
I woke up in bed with no memory of leaving the party, couldn't find my shoes.
My friend wasn't so lucky. After he got home and fell into bed he was sick in his sleep and nearly died.
We got a round of applause New Years Eve when we walked back into the pub, absolutely no idea why, I thought I pretty well behaved.
(Suddenly, zebras Safe and sound for eternity, Thu 13 Apr 2006, 21:32, Reply)