Stupid brain...
After a entire day's worth of drinking to celebrate a friend's birthday and our last day at university together before going back home to the dole queue, young JimBob was quite "refreshed" and felt the need to be sick outside a pub. I decided to do this in comfort, so sat/lay/slumped down onto the kerb.

Much spewing later, methinks it'd be a good idea to go home before I die, so I drag myself back to my pit.

Next day, I find I've lost my jeans; and not even in the "threw them off trying to undress myself" or "some bummer's stolen them after, well, bumming me" kinda way, the bastards just weren't to be found anywhere in the house. What made it worse was the fact my parents were coming to pick me up within the hour, and I sure as hell wasn't going home without my jeans (they were my favourite pair).

I damn near tore that house limb from limb looking, with my parents finally helping me in that "you stupid boy, what've you been up to" way that parents do.

I received a phone call three months later from my ex-landlord asking if the jeans he'd found in the freezer were mine. I'd apparently sat in some gum while hoiking my guts up, and had a moment of clarity when I got home and put them in the freezer to get it off.

Not a great story, I know, but so fucking what. I make no apologies for length, shitness, or missing of point.
( <somethingfunny> hasn't said anything funny since, Fri 3 Dec 2004, 10:26, Reply)