It's not me, it's the drugs talking
They make you do stupid stuff and say stupid stuff. Drugs ROCK! Old-time B3ta person Fraser says, "I remember turning to a flatmate once, after getting stoned and sitting through an episode of Casualty, and proclaiming "Wow! Those actors are *so* talented!". And really meaning it."
What do you regret doing under the influence?
( , Thu 15 Dec 2005, 11:19)
They make you do stupid stuff and say stupid stuff. Drugs ROCK! Old-time B3ta person Fraser says, "I remember turning to a flatmate once, after getting stoned and sitting through an episode of Casualty, and proclaiming "Wow! Those actors are *so* talented!". And really meaning it."
What do you regret doing under the influence?
( , Thu 15 Dec 2005, 11:19)
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A lovely dinner
There was the time I thought it would be a good idea to take a couple of pills after an afternoon in the pub and just before heading off to a very posh dinner party with my gf. I'm told I refused to eat anything, knocked back a bottle of champagne before starters, drank straight from the water jug as the other guests looked on in horror, danced on my own in the living room (there was no music playing), ripped a hole in one of my hostess's fine linel napkins and wore it as a hat and talked utter bollocks to a tee-total guest (a city banker) about my love of gabba. Apparently I saved the best for last. When asked to leave at the end of the evening, I decided to exit the flat via the dining room window, which is on the third floor. My alarmed hostess sprang into action and attempted to wrestle me back in - an effort I rewarded by farting a big wet one right in her face. Amazingly, everyone forgave me.
( , Fri 16 Dec 2005, 13:26, Reply)
There was the time I thought it would be a good idea to take a couple of pills after an afternoon in the pub and just before heading off to a very posh dinner party with my gf. I'm told I refused to eat anything, knocked back a bottle of champagne before starters, drank straight from the water jug as the other guests looked on in horror, danced on my own in the living room (there was no music playing), ripped a hole in one of my hostess's fine linel napkins and wore it as a hat and talked utter bollocks to a tee-total guest (a city banker) about my love of gabba. Apparently I saved the best for last. When asked to leave at the end of the evening, I decided to exit the flat via the dining room window, which is on the third floor. My alarmed hostess sprang into action and attempted to wrestle me back in - an effort I rewarded by farting a big wet one right in her face. Amazingly, everyone forgave me.
( , Fri 16 Dec 2005, 13:26, Reply)
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