Crabs
Not really.

Nearly Thursday!
(username failed moderation, Tue 1 May 2012, 15:58, 1 reply)

Not what I take so much as what I leave behind.
I collect dolls. Not cute baby dolls, or elegant fashion dolls, but the kind that are missing arms/eyes/limbs/are just a head. Creepy ones, essentially, though I find them quite charming. So how is this relevant to QotW?

Nothing makes for a great morning after like the terrified screams when a hungover friend wakes up to find a one-eyed armless doll torso sitting neatly on the pillow beside them. Yes, I'm a terrible person, but they do still keep coming to my parties!
(louveciennes , Volvospotter, Tue 1 May 2012, 4:58, 11 replies)

A mate of mine
came to class in a foul mood, saying foul things about his immanently ex-gf and the previous day at the beach. He pulled up his shirt to show us; standing out from the general sunburn on his back was a pale cock and balls. She had drawn it in sunblock. Soon it would stand out from the tan.
I liked that girl, good sense of humour.
(the other guy not the one that gave you coochie warts, Tue 1 May 2012, 1:11, 3 replies)

ill just leave this one here
b3ta.com/questions/cougars/post325219
(shamen Geekius Maximus, Mon 30 Apr 2012, 23:36, 1 reply)

I woke up at 4am in the Czech Republic, looking at this.

( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Mon 30 Apr 2012, 18:47, 68 replies)

eBay
The joys of modern technology now mean you can end up with souvenirs from an evening of drinks at home, without even leaving the house!

Unfortunately I have a bad habit of going on eBay when drunk. This has resulted in some really bizarre purchases, confusing the fuck out of me when the postman turns up with an armfull of random boxes for me. My most recent purchases include:
37 varieties of chilli plants. My other half is going to be eating spicy food until he retires now. Every window ledge in my house has sodding chilli plants growing on them.
A few hundred grams of dried lavender. I don't even like lavender.
20 giant pumpkin seeds. I don't even have space for the chilli plants, but no, I needed to get giant pumpkins too.
A neon pink wig.
A stuffed dinosaur.
A real (dead, obv.) mole's skull.
18,000 poppy seeds, which I have now sprinkled over my garden. Flanders Fields - you have competition.
Knee high socks with a zebra pattern on them.
Not one, but two random metal tiaras (apparently you can never have too many tiaras)

eBay needs a breathalyser.

(Apologies for lack of boobs, porn or drugs)
( Bathory, Mon 30 Apr 2012, 17:28, 14 replies)

Camping in Eaglesham ,
a village about 30 mins by bus outside Glasgow. It was the end of our school exams and we had last minute decided Thursdays were the new weekend . Our campsite was right at the end of the village and I am to this day ashamed to admit that my friend's morning after souvenir wasn't the three pints of milk he had stolen and drunk whilst doing the slow hung over stroll to the bus stop , but was in fact the seemingly gallons of semi curdled milk and vodka solution he liberally sprayed over most the fairly tightly packed commuters whilst stumbling from the back of the bus towards the door . We got thrown off the bus .
( horace wimp needs more than 49 characters to fully express hi, Mon 30 Apr 2012, 14:30, Reply)

Lego x fluffy toys x curry with rice x £1 drinks=disaster
Back in days of yore, when a certain club in Truro would allow in anyone with the balls to try and the money for entry through their hallowed doors, myself and a couple of college buddies would head down there, wide-eyed, clutching our newfound student EMA money,plannign to spend the evening shotgunning their "£1 for any drink" offers. this particular fateful evening, we'd arranged to crash at a friend's house in truro. before going out his dad treated us to a slap-up meal of tasty home-cooked beef curry with rice. very rich and filling it was.
As the night progressed on, it became apparent my mate joe was feeling rather the worse for wear. we staggered home, failing as we so often had before to secure any female company, and crashed out in the spare room in our friend rich's house, previously inhabited by his now university-age sister.
at some point in the night, i was woken by the sound of joe performing a full eject sequence.
flicking the light on, i was greeted by a delightful sight, joe, sitting half-upright, at the edge of the bed doing one of those voms you only perform when you're REALLY fucking out of it- no projection,no leaning forward, essentially just a torrent of fail pouring from his vacant slack mouth and down his chin like a waterfall of sundry bottled alcopops,inadvisably bright liqueurs, beef chunks, and rice. down it flowed, glancing off the edge of the mattress, in part hitting the rug, but in part, heading into the sizable drawer under the divan base.
whcih was full of a: fluffy toys of a light and girly colour pallette, and b: lego.
Have you ever tried cleaning rice out of lego?
it's a fucking logistical nightmare. the grains are about the same size as the holes in the lego bricks.
Apologies to rich's poor sister, whose childhood memories were sullied by the honking of a crude and irascible youg man
apologies also to the people onboard the top deck of the bus from truro to pool hat morning, who were treated to the sound of joe's death-metal style chundering, and for the small ocean of bile and regurgitated evian that flower from one end of the bus to the other depending whether it was going up or down hill.
(UppityDamnPrimate LET'S OPEN THIS F*CKING PIT UP, Mon 30 Apr 2012, 13:35, 4 replies)

I once woke up with a 15ft (ish) pub sign in my room.
It was for a pub called "The Barley Mow". I decided to take in back to the pub in question. Whilst walking it down the road a Police car pulled up next to me. The Copper asked me "Where did you get that from?" and I, looked down at the 15 ft long sign that read Barley Mow upside down and still drunk replied, "the Wheatsheaf", "make sure you take it back" came the reply. I've never understood if he was taking the piss out of me, or me him.
( The only Dave is pushing things forward, Mon 30 Apr 2012, 13:13, 2 replies)

I used to share a room with my brother
One night I remember him coming home, late.

I heard him get into bed.

An hour or so later, I heard him jump out of bed and throw up. It was dark, I could hear it splatter. I grimace, I pretend to be asleep, if I let on I was awake, it would be sober me to clean it up. He gets into back bed..... somewhere in our bedroom was a horrible scene.

The morning comes, I wake up and expect to see a technicolour yawn deposits everywhere... but there is none.

No splash marks. Had I dreamt it?


The air smelt garlicy and sweet. I could taste sour breath.


No...

Hiding under an old pair of black threadbare boxer shorts, was a neatly piled portion of rice. The water content now disapated into the carpet, leaving an orangey hugh to the rice. Quite an achivement if you ask me. A very specificly delivered vomit no bigger than say 6 inches wide, yet 2-3 inches deep.

What did I do? Baring in mind I was about 9-10 at the time.


Ran and told mum, compounding what was probably already a horrendous hangover my brother was beginning to experience.

I was a tw@t when i was younger..
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Mon 30 Apr 2012, 12:44, Reply)

Canton Express Glasgow
Anyone who has been on a night out in Glasgow knows what a pish hole this place is, or was, but it did the job as far as a spicy, salt and msg laden end of evening snack was required.

The toilets were a disaster. They were downstairs, next to the kitchen. Danny Boyle modelled the ones in trainspotting on them. After leaving the toilets I notice the some deliveries and nicked 4 cold dry cured peking ducks off a crate lying just outside the kitchen door. There were four of us in the flat so I suppose I must have taken one for each of us (I'm a fair mainded sort of guy). Fuck knows what sort of bacterial menagerie coated them given they had been lying outside the bogs.

My flatmate Martin woke cuddling one of them. He was a bit sticky from the glaze. The others had been put in the fridge. All were eaten over the next couple of days with no ill effects.
(Rammer, Mon 30 Apr 2012, 12:20, Reply)

Bet these lads had a class Souvenir the next day!
Read the reviews :D

www.amazon.co.uk/Veet-Men-Hair-Removal-Creme/dp/B000KKNQBK/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1335512646&sr=8-1
(R0z, Mon 30 Apr 2012, 10:56, 3 replies)

Kind of the opposite, really
13 years ago to the day, I woke up after celebrating my birthday by getting well and truly lashed with some of my university chums. Standing over me was the intimidating form of our hall of residence's head warden, a frighteningly stern lady wearing a deep frown. I had a throat like the Gobi desert and a head that felt like Disaster Area were soundchecking in it, so I was unable to do more than grunt when she asked me the obvious question:

"Where's your bed?"
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Mon 30 Apr 2012, 10:37, Reply)

Not me but her.
I have the souvenir of dented pride.

Woke to find myself in the bed of a girl I'd been seeing. She was pretty and liked Spaced so I was happy to be back in her bed. I rolled over and put my arm around her. She woke and then quite violently sat up. 'Oh god did we sleep together?' she gasped. 'er yes' I respond. 'SHIT'.

Bit awkward after that. I made it more awkward by saying that she definitely said yes(I was and remain a paranoid bugger).

So big regrets for her. And in the end I regretted it as well. Though I laugh about it now. Sometimes.

Length? Enough for no regrets at the time. Clearly not enough to cover me until the morning.
(skgorsky, Mon 30 Apr 2012, 10:31, Reply)

It didn't need Sherlock to work it out..
Not me but a friend..

I'm from an astonishingly boring area of Sussex which probably explains why they really get behind any local celebrities. The next towns raison d'etre was none other than Arthur Conan Doyle. A splendid bronze statue was erected in his honour, featuring the man himself looking dapper in suit and hat.
The other effect of this astonishingly boring area of Sussex was the heavy *heavy* drinking in the Uk's 3rd worst nightclub(Bugatti's for those interested). This lead to the usual japery, nothing serious. Until one night an acquittance took it too far.

He kept quiet about it so it came as a surprise when a friend who had idly picked up my mums copy of the local paper and spotted him. The CCTV installed in the town was of astonishing quality. They printed a full colour photo of Jack(for that was his name) laughing at Mr Conan Doyle, pulling his hat off, dancing with it and eventually departing with it. This was all immensely amusing.
I don't know the details of what happened to Jack, but I do remember that the hat was welded under Mr Conan Doyles arm after that and the response was the surprisingly swift after the article went out.

Length? About 22 inches around for a hat no?
(skgorsky, Mon 30 Apr 2012, 10:27, 5 replies)

I never suffer memory loss when drinking, so I'll crowbar this in.
A group of work colleagues and I went go-karting. Fortunately they failed to show any concern over the fact that a most of us had spent the best part of the day getting completely pissed and let us all have a shot anyway. It was a lovely spring day and four of us spent more time popping out for cigarettes than actually driving because, frankly, the alcohol was causing us to spend more time in the "Sin Bin" than actually on the track. For the record, our team came in dead last.

Anyone who has spent an evening Karting will know that for the sake of safety they kit you out with a helmet and overalls. In the case of this particular venue the overalls were black with a coloured chest that indicated the size of the overall. All four of us were different sizes and we therefore looked like a set of petrol-head power rangers.

The evenings proceedings came to an end, a small prize ceremony was held and everyone returned their kit. We left our helmets on the bench and had left before the ceremony, possibly due to the shame of knowing we had failed badly and had given half of the people on the track whiplash, but probably because our taxi was already waiting and we just wanted to carry on drinking at this point. We didn't actually remember to return the uniforms due to inebriation.

The funniest part of the evening that I can remember was when Mike, the burliest of us, noticed a fight down a side street, he turned down and walked towards the fracas, we all followed him (just in case...)

The four of us stood there, him in front, he raised his hand, palm outfacing and at the top of his unnecessarily well-spoken voice said "Stop, citizens!"

It only fucking worked, but probably more because they were confused and a bit weirded out than anything else.

We briefly considered careers as superheroes.
( Muns, Mon 30 Apr 2012, 9:59, Reply)

An umbrella, apparently
I went out for drinks with work on Friday and came home with an umbrella. I don't even remember stealing it, but it's kinda handy as it just fits in my bag
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Mon 30 Apr 2012, 9:28, 6 replies)

A bowling ball
Previous answered removed due to brutish narrow mindedness in regards to sexual play amongst close friends... (or is that just jealousy?)

Ahem.

So, a bowling ball. A purple bowling ball weighing approximately 10kg. Theived from a bowling alley by a very trashed girl and gifted to a rather good friend of mine, in the middle of a tube train on the Victoria line for his 30th birthday. It was meant to be returned, but as far as I'm aware, it's still gathering dust in the corner of his living room.
( Bathory, Mon 30 Apr 2012, 8:32, 57 replies)

Part of a gentleman
I was a physiotherapy student. We hung out with trainee doctors. Part of their course was to examine every body part. I imagine they were asked to give the samples back, but in this case, my pal Michelle woke up with a (frighteningly small) pickled penis on her pillow.

Cue gales of laughter? No... it was actually terrifying.
(marsupialman, Sun 29 Apr 2012, 23:15, 7 replies)

Someone elses' souvenier.
After a night in The Sair, Huddersfield...

Once we'd finally been kicked out we stepped very carefully down the incredibily steep hill to the main road and the bus stop. Why the hell we went to a bus stop at silly o' clock I don't know but some squinting and finger pointing at the timetable suggested there'd be a night bus in about 45 minutes.

A really good thing to do would have been to set off walking towards our digs, and a good thing to do would have been to flag down a taxi.

A very bad thing to do would be big Kev getting on the roof of the bus shelter for a sleep, and me and little Kev to explore the gardens of some local houses.

Little Kev was always a bit shiftless but at some point in his life he'd done some horticultural work and got struck by some atavistic urge to exercise his green fingers at silly o'clock in a Huddersfield suburb.

In the course of 45 minutes, under the direction of little Kev, we managed to transplant several mature shrubs as well as a very considerable number of smaller items of flora between the gardens of two neighbouring houses - roots and all, bedding them down neatly and boarding the night bus covered in mud without the householders being remotely aware of our adventures in the night garden.

I'd love to think we did a neat job - I'm fairly sure we did - and I'd love to know if anyone even realised what we'd done.
( The Disappointed Caravanner of the year, Sun 29 Apr 2012, 18:47, 9 replies)

Bowling shoes
From prince williams raf base in Wales. I was working nearby and one of the foremen was knocking off a barmaid that worked there, and sorted a free evenings bowling for all of us.
( social hand grenade I was a lurker before you were a lurker, Sun 29 Apr 2012, 15:47, 1 reply)

Not souvenirs, more gifts.
When I was in my third year at university a few of us got together for a houseshare. We were good friends but none of us had lived together before. One of my new housemates, Tom, had always seemed like a lovely guy, albeit a bit of a drinker who never seemed to build up any tolerance to alcohol no matter how often he got bladdered. We also soon realised that Tom had disgusting habits, was lazy and generally an inconsiderate person to live with. As such a bit of a rift developed between him and the rest of us. Meanwhile he'd get pissed every single night, drunkenly trash the place, try and make some food and all but burn down the kitchen, and never ever apologise or clean up after himself.

One night the rest of us were relaxing with a few drinks and a few movies. Tom came home drunk, caused his usual chaos then promptly passed out in an armchair. We decided to have a bit of a laugh with his comatose state. Nothing nasty. Just a bit of harmless messing around. We put shaving foam on his head and stuck balloons to it like Mickey Mouse ears. We then proceeded to decorate him with empty beercans, gaffer tape, a feather boa and whatever else we could find. We also had, from a recent night out of our own, a "Caution: Men at work"-type sign nicked from a building site. It had been shoved behind a sofa and Tom had probably never even seen it. We dragged it out and put it in front of him as a finishing touch.

Him the next morning: "Ahh talk about a mad night out! You'll never guess what I woke up with!"
( Photoshop Bitch 2014 edition, Sun 29 Apr 2012, 14:29, 3 replies)

Sliced up
A few years ago, I broke my clavicle in a scooter accident. I had to keep it immobilised for a couple months in velpeau bandages, which basically wrapped my midsection like a mummy immobilising my right arm. Later on, I was given a much simpler sling. The healing process probably would've been weeks faster if I hadn't been drinking so heavily.

One night I went to a reggae show and got supremely drunk. I remember sitting with the band, but not much more than that.

Next morning, I woke up to discover slashes in my sling. How did those happen? When I finally rolled out of bed, and got dressed to go out, I threw on my jacket to find two unexpected items in my pockets:
1) an oversized novelty lighter
2) a pair of shears
Ah, mystery solved. Sort of. Not really.
(racetraitor has an alibi for, Sun 29 Apr 2012, 14:04, 2 replies)

How could I not take it?
A large sign that said: "Caution, Explosive Powered Tool In Use". Hung it in my bedroom for months... Until I realised how ridiculous it made me look. I mean seriously, a compound adjective without a hyphen?
( difficultchild, Sun 29 Apr 2012, 4:54, 3 replies)

I went out and drank a LOT of gin and vodka.
Woke up the next morning next to Amorous Badger.
( Wicca'd Witch needs ideas for a new sig on..., Sun 29 Apr 2012, 1:26, 11 replies)

Cherry tree cottage.
After a drunken night out a friend of mine brandished the rather large house sign he'd fallen asleep on the lounge floor hugging and asked "Does anyone know where cherry tree cottage is?".

"No" I replied, "and no fucker will now either!".
(repooc, Sat 28 Apr 2012, 15:26, 1 reply)

A foolish pub landlord...
Posted a sign in the toilets, instructing all patrons to abstain from stealing items from the wash rooms. It was a nicely laminated job, printed upon fawn-coloured paper and decorated with tastefully lurid pink highlighter pen. Quite sadly, the font was an uninspired Courier New rather than the more arty and trendy Comic Sans, but you can't have everything.

Once I had sufficiently enhanced my bravery with alcohol, I took it upon myself to steal the 'no stealing' sign. It now decorates my own WC and is the pride of my home.
( Yo 'Ho of Charlie mass-market saucetrepreneur, Sat 28 Apr 2012, 14:19, 6 replies)

rescuing wildlife
woke up to see a full size cardboard cutout of a bison staring at me.

Looked around and there were about fifteen more life size cardboard animals in the room...stags, wolves..even a wildebeeste

I was dressed as a ninja and covered in mud....I had gone out in a nice dress
( cakeburglar still bored with Freebase, Sat 28 Apr 2012, 14:12, Reply)

Shapeless Mass
Not me, but my Dad...

When he was a student in the 1930s, Dad and two of his friends thought it would be a wizard wheeze to sew three boiler suits together and go to a fancy dress party as a Shapeless Mass. Of course being students they all had too much to drink and found it even harder to get around in this conjoined manner. Eventually after aimlessly staggering round the streets of London they fell down the stairs of a Tube station. Dad woke up in hospital. His Morning After souvenir was a broken arm; one of the others had a broken leg and a broken hand, and the third was concussed.

When we were kids my siblings and I thought this story was mega cool. It still makes me smile.
(grumpy old ratbag, Sat 28 Apr 2012, 13:27, Reply)