b3ta.com qotw
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » Teenage Parties » Page 12 | Search
This is a question Teenage Parties

Ah, the heady days when catering consisted of a crate of lager and some vodka illicitly extracted by whoever looked oldest, decoration consisted of removing any breakable furniture and the morning after was just the morning and not the rest of the week.

Tell us who you snogged, where you threw up and who just would not leave.

(, Thu 13 Apr 2006, 10:20)
Pages: Latest, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, ... 1

This question is now closed.

Marginally off topic, but...
...when I was at Uni (Dundee, Belmont Hall, top floor of the tower for those that know it), I ran a poker school in my room in halls. Being students, however, if you lost a hand you had to drink 3 fingers of cheap crappy spirit.

By the end of the night my mate Phil staggers back to his room more than a little worse for wear. Lies down on his bed. Room starts spinning. Quick bit of thinking and he figures he's not going to make it to the sink in time so he spews out of his window instead (9 floors up) and thinks no more of it.

Come next morning we discover that the girl in the room below had left her window open overnight which now had a perfect 'pavement pizza' on it. And, as it was summer, it had baked on very effectively. Bloody thing was there for at least a month.
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 17:13, Reply)
Teenage parties
too many to mention, but one in particular, had one of my shoes stolen, (twas a rockport boot, but this nearly ten years ago when they were cool and not chavvy)found it about a month later in a hedge. Went to one recently in Hyde Park, Leeds there were so many people the floors nearly collapsed, but by god it rocked!!!!
And chuntymudflap, if eight people gave half a sixteenth it would be a quarter not a half ounce, sorry for being pedantic, but i always put at least a half ounce of skunk in cakes, guaranteed to waste hours if not days.
Length, Girth? Like a pencil,but not as thick.
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 16:56, Reply)
Oh cock it, here goes!
1- My friend technically died cos of drinking too much at one party, we were pissed so we called ambulance and started offering him more beer, but we were cunts back then!
2- Looking for friend only to find her bare arse looking back at me, she had managed to fall asleep hanging out of a window, drunk people near helped with nudity!
3- Drunk friend + Womens underwear + pool, mental scarring too much!
4- The indignity( fuck that, it was fun all the way to the wank bank) of getting full lap dance from friends sister ( she had nice breasts by the way)
5- Had gf at time pass herself round behind my back, sober this time, so repeatedly poked her the eye with my cock, bint!

Why cant I be a teenager again, why
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 16:48, Reply)
All im saying is...........
drunk enough to fall asleep under a table, but managed to turn huge mixing bowl full of whatever upside down to use as pillow.
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 16:40, Reply)
Joint effort
It was my mate’s joint eighteenth with his twin sister. She was horribly prim and proper. He had hair down to his ankles and a penchant for hallucinogens. So we decided that rather than be caught smoking dope, we’d bake a cake. We all chipped in half a sixteenth of finest morrocan, all in all half an ounce between eight of us. This might not sound much. Believe me. By the time we were fifty metres from the pub where assorted family members etc were gathered we might as well have been tripping. It was like that Soft Mints ad where everything is moving reallllly slowly. We gingerly made our way in and most of us slumped against the tables with ex-school mates looking on and asking when we’d made the leap to smack. I spent half an hour in the bog trying to sober up.

Another time, the same bloke had a party and after buying a sixteenth of an ounce of tarragon and having my photograph taken in bed with some bird not my at the time partner I was beaten up by a girl.
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 16:32, Reply)
Closest thing to real "cartoon acid."
At one big ol' party for a girl's seventeenth birthday, one guest was quickly becoming a nuisance. He was off his ass as a consequence of hitting on a bottle of Jack Daniels that he'd brought along, and constitutionally a yahoo to begin with.

Most of us other kids had just a few beers, but there was tons of herb and no small amount of LSD going around. This left everyone ill-prepared to deal with a raging drunk, and certainly no one could work out a way to get him to leave.

Finally, he had taken his spectacle of "Look how many push-ups I can do!" to new heights -- down there on the floor, doing shirtless push-ups, and screaming at the top of his voice, totally bumming everyone out. Brought things to a crashing halt, with a dozen kids standing around not having a clue as to how to eject him without it turning violent.

Then the girl's mother came downstairs, in a huge fluffy pink housecoat, matching slippers, a towel on her head, her face covered in cream, and brandishing a massive cast-iron skillet. "You! You're leaving, now."

She was an awesome sight for those of us with a headful of acid -- like some avenging angel that stepped out of a Tom & Jerry cartoon.
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 16:29, Reply)
Another millennium, another continent
Ah. Warm fuzzy memories of growing up in suburban South Africa. Picture 80s US teen films with smaller cars and better music. As I spent most of the time pissed, and the parties and attendees were pretty much interchangeable, here are a few of the things I remember:

End-of-high-school party. I forgot to take any alcohol along, so I found an empty pint mug, and wandered around asking for donations - the ultimate cocktail. Not. Woke up on the patio next to a BFO speaker blasting out Marley's Exodus, sweating gin. Never touched the stuff since. There's allegedly photographic evidence of me trying to seduce an ex-girlfriend while she was lying on top of her current boyfriend. I bet she'll sell them to the tabloids when I'm rich and famous.

Farewell party for the guitarist and drummer of our pet metal band - they were pissing off back to the UK to avoid army service. Guitarist's little sister Laura had a few of her goth mates there and, after a few beers, I defected to the goth camp. Ended up having red wine lovingly dribbled into my mouth from hers, with spilling a drop - a bit like two people sharing spaghetti, getting ever closer. This, of course, happened in front of her parents, who found the sight of a couple of legless 19 year olds behaving like kids quite endearing. Result!

My farewell pissup before army service. Parents out of the country, a bar full of alcoholic delights, and a liquidiser. Very few of the cocktails we created that night have taken off, for some reason. More photographic blackmail material of my mate Neil with his willy in his hand having a slash on the pavement. He's a high-level nuclear physicist now.

First weekend home during army basic training. Warned of all sorts of legal nastiness if we got into trouble. Some twunt at the party (come on up, Mr Swale) started kicking neighbour's wall in after sniffing petrol from somebody's bike tank, neighbour called plod, and plod arrived as I was driving away. I think it was my no-lights-on stealth technique that alerted them that things weren't quite right. Chucked into back of police van, driven about a mile, then dropped off back at the party and told to behave myself. Needless to say, I had to beat the girlies off with a cheesy bell-end. Result!

The no-lights-on car chase around the back streets of Birch Acres was fun - I'd backed into some proto-chav's Cortina at Fat Ann's party and smashed one of his spotlights. Lost him for a while, then went back to the party, pulling into the driveway to the sounds of 22 Acacia Avenue, which mentions Charlotte the Harlot. This, coincidentally, was the name of my conquest-to-be for that night. She said no. Another night of mad passionate failure.

My mum had a vague idea I'd had a party when she noticed a used tampon in her en-suite toilet. I'd forgotten that the local bicycle had been bestowing her favours on a mate of mine. He forgot to tell me that she'd been on the blob. There are many things one can talk one's way out of, but trying to convince my mum that a used tampon was part of a phase I was going through wasn't one of them.

Length? Girth? I never lie about those things. It makes the baby Jesus cry.
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 16:05, Reply)
Oedipus wrecks
I woke up after a party when I was seventeen in a double bed next to a fifty year old woman: my mother. I screamed in mystified horror, which woke her up.

She angrily told me that the people at casualty had told her to sleep next to me in case I vommed and died in my sleep (my aunt actually went this way- probably why mum was so cautious, but then her lovely sister was a fat alcholic with a cleft palette). Mum then proceeds to tell me that my worried mates had called her to their party, after I had apparently vomitted all their was to vom and was still retching, besides supposedly not being able to remember my name and sobbing uncontrollably. She'd taken me to hospital for the traditional stomach pumping, not that there was really anything left to pump.

I then hazily remembered coming off a late shelf-stacking shift at the BP garage, going to the party and everyone chanting "catch-up, catch-up" as I grasped a pint jug of vodka in my sweaty teenage mitts. What a retard.

Still, I was incredibly grateful for this relatively mundane explanation. My mother is after all, a good looking lady, and I wouldn't have put anything past me.

Length? My dad would kill me.
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 15:38, Reply)
Sometimes I feel like, I don't have a partner
When I was 14 me and my mate Dave got invited to ALL the cool parties because of his absurd beard, the guy had loads of stubble even though his voice was still a bit falsetto and he would take everyone's money and buy them booze at a massive mark up. I was his wingman and in charge of the other necessary - drugs.

One time we went to a party in Surrey, at the house of a guy who had a pool, lived on a golf course, etc. I met this lovely lass called Penny and spent the entire night plying her with Malibu, listening to Alive by Pearl Jam and trying to prize my way into her pants. She resisted coyly, moving my hand back to her miniscule boobies a total of two million times during the evening. As any boy will tell you, this chaste behaviour wins girls the respect they so richly deserve - bollocks, I denounced her as a frigid cow, bitterly, and put her top of the wank bank as punishment.

Next Friday, I'm chilling at my crib, home video dubbing.. the phone rings and it's this lass Penny. She's having a party! Will me and Dave come and bring all the booze and drugs we can carry??

No. Sorry Penny, it's a long way and I'm kinda busy.

If you come I'll let you finger me.

Jesus wept. I hung up the phone. Even as a 14 year old drug addled desperate perv, some behaviour is just too much.
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 15:00, Reply)
Never even made the party...
I must've been about 13 at the time. Me and a few friends gathered all of our pocket money together and got my mates older sister to visit the local Spar and buy us a shitload of beer.
A few of us went back to mine to prepare for the big night, bags of booze in tow. Being the naive youngsters we were, the only conceiveable way we could think of to smuggle the vast amounts of alcohol out of the house was to put it all in a bag, well more like a suit case, wrapped in towels to stop the bottles clanking together (see, we thought it through!).
This would have worked if it wasn't for the fact that my parents were giving us a lift to the party, and when the four of us came trundling down the stairs ready to go heaving a massive suitcase with us the usual questions began, with a typical guilty thirteen year old's responses:
"What've you got in the bag?"
"Um... Nothing"
"That's a very big and heavy bag to be carrying nothing"
"um... It's tapes and some extra clothes for the party..."
"Rubbish, take it back upstairs"

Suffice to say my parents dropped us off at the party, only to ring up half an hour later and tell the host they were on the way round to pick me up after they'd found my "Alcoholic's Treasure Trove" buried in the bottom of my wardrobe.
Most embarrassing night of my life, being picked up by my parents in front of practically my whole year with them yelling and screaming at me.
Didn't go to another party for quite some time after that incident.
Surprisingly enough though, the next party they actually bought me the beer to go with, something to do with the fact that they knew i'd be drinking, so at least this way they knew what it was when i had to get my stomach pumped... but thats another story...

Apologies for length... but i was thirteen, puberty was only just kicking in...
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 14:42, Reply)
I used to have a party trick. After a few drinks I would inevitably ask, "How many 2p coins have we got between us?" After collecting a good supply, I would start slipping the coins inside my foreskin one by one. The first time I tried it I got seventeen 2p coins in there. A few months later I tried it again and managed to get an extra five in. Twenty-two 2p coins. That's a foreskin coinage of 44p.

It was usually profitable, too, because the people who surrendered their coins for the cause rarely wanted them back once the deed was done. It always caused a great deal of mirth when we would go to the pub after a bout of tuppence trickery, order a round and then offload a handful of change to the unwitting bar staff. "Do you mind if I give you a load of shrapnel, mate?"

You have to take care, though. It can nip a bit if you're not careful.

I haven't tried it for several years. I wonder if I can stretch as far as the 50p mark?

There's only one way to find out!
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 14:40, Reply)
chunky kiss
The usual after-the-pub-all-back-to-someone's house party - it was Shane's flat above the shops in Harrow. I'd taken 1/2 a tab of acid that was doing very little (or the effects were indistinguishable from the snakebites and hash consumed all night).
I rarely dance (because I look like a cunt) but on this night I was a sex god, gyrating round sexy Suzy, moving closer and closer for the snog.
After 5 mintutes of solid tongue action I came up for air and from the corner of my eye I caught my mates looking my way and laughing like drains. I reluctantly let go of Suzy's wonderful breasts and went over to find out "what's so fucking funny?"
They sniggeringly asked me if I enjoyed the kiss -
"of course- it's Sexy Suzy"
yes- the same Sexy Suzy that they had observed vomming her guts up over the balcony not five minutes previous.
Suddenly very sober, instant dash to the bathroom to check for carrot and tomato skins on the face (I'm retching as I type this).

Fucked her anyway - what's a few chunks when Sexy Suzy's tits are up for grabs?
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 14:40, Reply)
"....and then his mum walked in"
More post party than an actual party itself...

It was the summer of 93. We were carefree teenagers, blissfully unaware of whatever drudgery the future held for us. For now, all that mattered to us was the sun on our faces and the cider in Dan's mum's kitchen.

As is the wont of horny teenagers who are desperate to see the flesh of the opposite sex but are too emotionally retarded to figure out how to get a peek, we started suggesting that we swap clothes; girls wear the boys stuff and vice versa.

And, due to the mixture of cider, vodka, and the end of exams, all concerned agreed. And there it should have ended, in a haze of cheap alcohol and cheaper thrills.

However, for Rich, the story goes on. Towards midnight, and somewhat the worse for wear. He headed home. He arrived to find an empty house; his parents had taken his two youngers sisters out to see some relatives. Just as well, being as he walked through the front door wearing a short, skintight dress that barely covered the little modesty he has.

Anyway, he decided to do what any teenaged boy would do when left alone in a house and drunk; stick on an art video and crack one out in relative peace and quiet. If only he'd factored in the male tendency for slumber after a satisfying expulsion of manfat...

So there he was; lying, passed out, in the middle of the living room floor. With a dress hitched up to his chest, and his pants round his ankles, deflated manhood still in hand and with a 3 inch long crusty mark on his thigh.

And then his family arrived home and...well, see the title. Personally, I would have committed hari-kari the very same night.
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 14:38, Reply)
Bert, a mate of mine...
... once drank soo much he didn't care some of it was washing-up water from the sink.

most of it was campari, though.

the host's dad put a bucket in the room bert went to slepp in and explained: "here you go, bert! If! you! feel! sick! in! here!" (loud party).

fast forward to the next morning:

the bucket: pristine.

the room: scarlett/pink all over.

the mate: nowhere to be seen.

noone was impressed.
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 14:21, Reply)
I vowed never to tell this.
I once went to a party at a friend’s house. The party itself was nothing spectacular, what was spectacular was my amazing ability to get blindingly drunk very quickly.

This story kicks off just as the party has ended, and everyone has either gone home or passed out, I rose from my stupor and felt that familiar rising feeling in my gut. Knowing what was going to happen I quickly ran outside and puked on my (now ex) mate’s doorstep.

That’s when the worst thing ever happened. I shat myself. And it wasn’t you average run-of-the-mill shit, oh no, I’d been drinking Guinness all night so what came out was jet-black and smelt of manure.
Panicking I decided, in my drunken haze, that the best idea was to walk calmly and carefully to his toilet and clean myself up. Mistake number one. This resulted in me trailing shit through his hallway, living room and kitchen.
I cleaned myself up as best I could and decided that to fully finish this “I’ve not shat myself” look I needed some deodorant, to cover the smell of rotting cow dung, so I went up to my friends room to get some. Mistake number two. I walked back through my own shit and ended up trailing it back though the kitchen, living room and hallway, but this time I also trailed it upstairs and into his bedroom. I grabbed some deodorant and ran off into the night.

I’ve not returned to my hometown or seen my (ex) friend since.

EDIT: err... all that was about someone i know, not me, honest.
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 14:18, Reply)
My Little Brother.....
....was the king of teenage parties.

I got a phone call from him at uni asking me for money (oh how I laughed). When I asked him where all the money my parents had left him while they were in Australia had gone, he said "I spent it on my party" I told him to go and eat at his mates.

My parents get back from Australia and phone me to tell me what he had been up to....

1. On the day of the party a new carpet was delivered (all rolled up and polythened)
2. He raced the hamster down it.
3. Hamster wouldn't come out, so him and his mates flicked fags at it.
4. Hamster still wouldn't come out, so they tipped a can of lager down there to flush him out.
5. New carpet is something a tramp wouldn't sleep on.

My parents still cried when he moved out, wetwipes!
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 14:15, Reply)
School Disco

I do remember this - I went to a posh school, so it was customary to bring in some "Lucozade" - which was, of course, everything you could get into it.

Come the disco a couple of weeks later, unless the Lucozade was drunk immediately, we'd neck the bottle of vile, brown shite and turn up at the (no booze) disco - There was always a mate who'd come and get the drunks and put them to bed - never me doing the collecting though. Funnily enough, the school had a no booze policy (somehow I was never caught!!)

This one night, Andy and me were both hammered and we decided that the best way to sober up was to punch each other in the face. Well, I punched Andy a few times - and that was it... The next morning we got up and he came over to me and punched me - no hello or anything... "What?" says I - He remembered me punching him lots - didn't remember anything else though....


Check out the punctuation, and line spacing - hint hint.................
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 14:12, Reply)
Well now...
First off: does anyone else remember meeting at the clock tower in Golders Green EVERY Saturday night between 1978-81? If so, hi.

The one that sticks in my mind though was a fake posh party where we all wore dinner jackets and posh frocks, only two mates (Paul, Keiran - you know it was you) decided to turn up in drag, but not OTT drag, just Paul's sister's clothes, quite weird.

At another one, aged 17, I thought I had just found my first girlfriend through my Saturday job. I'd arranged to meet her at a party, unfortunately my best mate had got us some acid... I spotted her a little while after the drugs took effect, trying to introduce her to my mates I began, "Paul, this is...erm..." shite! I couldn't remeber her name! "Paula" she said. I totally failed to get off with her, shame she really liked me.
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 13:57, Reply)
does exactly what it says on the tin
one particularly good house party:
all very drunk.
as we're all aware beer and fire are not entirely compatible, but i proceed to do my standard party piece and fire breathe.... a few scorched hedges but no REAL damage done. until some lads decided that it looked cool and theyd give it a go.
all the white spirit had been used up by myself, so they broke into the shed (the most obvious place to find flammable liquids), to find only ronseal woodstain.

que lots of brown mouthed young men, gurning, teeth stuck together (but certainly no rain damage!).

goes to show tho, ronseal does do exactly what it says on the tin

**if ingested DO expect to spend 9hrs in A&E, an awkward explanitory conversation with hospital staff members, then a good old fashioned stomache pumping**
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 13:46, Reply)
new years eve stupidity
i was having a shit new years eve spending it with my parents. untill i get a phone call from stephen the ginger cunt. come to jersy farm theres a shit load of partys bring some booze. so i gets my mum to give me a lift to jersy farm and get her to run into the offi and get me a load of cans. my buddies all all very very fucked by time i arrive so i try to catch up with them. next thing i know its 5 in the morning and im walking round some crazy arsed village ive never been to before with no shoes on my very expensive phone has a big old cracked screen my brand new hoodie is wrecked and i have various cuts i can see and various ones that i cant. i try to call my ginger cunt friend stephen to see where he is and more importantly where i am. so im on the phone to him "stephen where are u" "i dont no tom my feet are freezing ive lost my shoes" i tell you if i wasnt scared of getting hypothermia i would have laughed my nuts off. woke up in the morning with no shoes broked phone ruined hoddy big old cut on my forehead where apparently i smashed my face into a wall and sick allover my favourite t shirt. best new years eve ever the stuff of legends
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 13:44, Reply)
Last crap story
Is it me or are some of these stories no longer house parties?

Ahem - Weak link.

It was just after our last Uni Exam so we went out straight after to get shit faced. We were thrown out of 3 pubs and there's this fab photo of Neil projectile vomiting into a wheelie bin from 10 paces (really) - Anyway, it got to 4pm and we were all hammered so, as Mr Woods lived nearest, we all pile back to mine. Joy. Much puking and sleeping it off a bit, we're off out again and more people are banned from our house....

Crap - I'll stop posting now.....

(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 13:38, Reply)
Ooo Another
Same crazy girl as my last post - we decided to go out for my birthday, there were supposed to be loads of us, so we decided to get 2 crates of beer in for before we went out - I was at Uni at the time in the communal house from one of my last posts.

Unfortunately everyone was late so me, Girl X and Nicki drank 2 crates of beer before we left the house (1 of 24 bottles and 1 of 12). Girl X puked all over our stoop outside and we had to carry her to the pubs where we all got hammered - I have a memory blackout that just won't come back from that night.

Girl X was banned from my house by the "House committee" (For committee, read "the 2 crazy women who lived in myhouse")

Blah blah blah. Penis joke.
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 13:33, Reply)
went to jacks house for a party
stephen fort it would be a good idea to buy a bottle of vodka not for himself no doesnt touch the stuff, but for his entertainment. we made mark and dale have a drinking competition a bottle of vodka later dale throws up in jacks plants and mark collapses on jacks bed and pisses himself. oh he provided us with co much entertainmet that night he woke up with pen allover him. oh the joy i had the next day at work telling all of marks fellow roofers that he cant handle nearly a whole bottle of vodka.
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 13:31, Reply)
What's the frequency, Kenneth?
Had 2 other good stories which have nice memories, but I can't post those as they'd incriminate the innocent (Well, guilty obviously).


We were at this girl's house - she shall remain nameless as she's a evil cow who is going out with a good friend of mine (He has poor taste in women) and her parents were away. We (i forget who exactly now) turned up hammered already and proceeded to drink everything in sight - now the details are sketchy, but I do remember releasing her manic cat into the wilds of Sheffield (Bradway to be exact) - I think it turned up about 3 days later.

Hmm, this is a crap post isn't it - no worse than all the others though.

Length, etc
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 13:29, Reply)
Pathetic Girly Screams
One lunch-time we went to yum-cha, typically this involved a great deal of alcohol - especially as we were pretty young.

When we got home we were exhausted and distended and drunk.

So one guy went to sleep.

The rest of us were bored so we got out our makeup and drew very artistic designs all over the face and neck of the sleeping guy. We made sure to draw some nice wounds on his neck.

The only way to wake him up was to play ABBA. Which we did. He started mindlessly 'pulsing' to the music. He woke up, staggered off to the bathroom where he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror and let rip with the most blood-curdling scream I've ever heard.

Being the kind friends we are, me, The Elcat and Wog all fell about laughing while we were drunkenly threatened with violence.
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 13:22, Reply)
Woah that was an odd evening...
Impressionable youths first dabbling with mind altering drugs at the age of 16, we attended a house party with no intention of staying sane for longer then necessary, so tabs were taken, cider was drunk, and skunk was smoken.

After about 90minutes my good mate Dom receives a phone call... "Dom, it's Les, I'm working in The Venue, Dudley, come down if you want." Well, working behind the bar might mean a few pints, and the party had fizzled out a fair wack from everyone getting far too lean.

We headed up, my brain absolutely frying, all dressed in jeans and trainer. Standing in the doorway, my mate creasing in a tiny ball in the shop doorway next door, he then disappears and returns 10 minutes later with mixed meat and chips. It takes about 15 minutes of discussion with the Bouncers trying to get in, when Les walks past the door, so we collar him and enter the building.

Now I've never step foot in this place before, we're all feeling a little 'sticky' at this point, and I've never seen a place like it.

Red carpets, massive stairways, huge golden dangley light things, all in the middle of Dudley, I thought it was the acid playing tricks with me, no was this real. Anyway, we went upstairs into this massive hall, disappeared to the bar got some drinks, and went back into the main room, more of the same, it looked like the Oscars, tables of food and champagne, hundreds of people dressed in Ballgowns and the smartest suits you've ever seen. We sit at our table at the back, trying to take in exactly what is happening, but it's incredibly difficult for a 16year old with no concept of time or space at the best of times. My one mate still creasing as a tiny ball, my other mate vegging, and me starstruck by the whole occasion.

It wasn't until we'd sat there for about 30mins that we realised we were in an Afro-Carribean Solicitors Convention. There were four whiteboys in the back absolutely monged and probably making a rather large and unneccesary scene for all these Jamacian Solicitors.

But how we laughed, better then the poxy houseparty, and I met a lovely yound lady by the name of Antoinette, who unfortunately moved away about 2 yrs ago.

Oh well, nothing will ever top that night for me, absolutely vegging in a room full of Jamacian Solicitors in the middle of Dudley, HAPPY DAYS!
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 13:21, Reply)
My legendary 16th
When I was a teenager, me parents were pretty liberal. I had moved to a new school a few weeks before my 16th birthday and I asked if I could have a party as it would be a good way to make some new friends. Being the liberal (or foolish) parents they were, they bought me a stack of beer, went away for the weekend and told me that I could indeed have that party.

Many events happened that night but one of the most memorable was when a stripper turned up dressed as a copper. I genuinely panicked and, in my Thunderbird fuelled state, really thought I was done-for. It wasn't until she started getting her kit off did I cotton on.

It turned out that my Dad had arranged her as a present. It also turned out that my older brother had been left in charge of the money for her and he got a discount by asking her not to take her top off and pocketed the cash. Bastard!

Another memorable moment was me copping off with a girl who, I later discovered, was affectionatly known at school as "Bucket Fanny". One of my parent's only rules was that no-one used their bedroom. However I had the key and snuck in there with Bucket. I thought that I had got away with it until the next day, when my folks returned, I was asked why there was blood on their sheets. Turned out that Bucket was on her period and we had not turned on the lights. Nice of her to tell me! Didn't matter though, I just blamed it on my brother.
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 13:18, Reply)
Lettuce handprints.
The first time I drank copious quantities of alcohol I was around at a friend's place for a get-together. We had cheese and lettuce sandwiches then got into the wine. Classy.

Several hours, more than a cask of wine between two and much vomit later I was collected by my mother who was informed I had had an allergic reaction to milk. Which she actually believed. I corrected her years later and she was stunned.

My friends rang other friends to come and help clean up the house I vomited throughout. While singing loudly. I was told later about the handprints I left in the vomit. And that I managed to throw up in every room in one wing of the house. I was very proud.
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 13:07, Reply)
College Parties
Ah the heady days of 17... We used to get so boozed up at sixth form college that the novelty hard worn off for us by University. Sorry about the lengh...

Let me just set the scene. College Christmas party, 2001. Theme: Fancy Dress. This is important.

We all went and rented costumes the week before, sadly the Storm Trooper one was stolen. I went as Batman, my good friend Alan was a Cowboy, another friend of mine, Chris, went as a Hawaiin Cop if I recallc correctly. Two of my other friends, Simon and James, went as a gorilla and a wookie respectively.

The problem with being seventeen is that you can;t get served. Some people at the college party were 18, but most were well under leagal drinking age, so we had a few drinks at my house and them moved onto Taunton's most sadly missed udnerage drinking hole - Chambers.

Chamberes was essentially a dungeon with a pricelist pinned over the sign warning you that you would be I.D.ed (hence, it was closed down shortly after turning 18). We figured (quite rightly) that the club would be hard on I.D. so we hit the shots. Big time. By the time we left the bar we were totally smashed but before we were totally smashed I found out my slightly mental ex-girlfriend was attending the party and I told my friends that they were to stop me even talking to her. They pledged, as my good friends that they would keep me apart from her whatever happens. Ah, I thought, what good mates...

Anyway, we rolled onto the club and skipped the cue due to our fantastic costumes. I quickly found out that the foam muscles of my suit and the mask meant that girls suddenly found me irresistable and within 10 minutes I was dancing in the middle of a ring of netball hotties who had no idea I was a History geek. I was soon indluging in more than a tiny bit of clumsy teenage petting with most of them.

All was going OK until problem A appeared: Alan, the Cowboy, was on Student council. He found is a load of wristbands that marked us out as 18 years old. Amazing! Drinking trebled... Soon we were so drunk that the rest of the ngiht is quite literally a daze.

Problem B was my ex-girlfriend. She appeared, drunk and horny for my blood, and where were my friends? The Cowboy was dancing with the wall, the Hawaiin cop was sat on the lap of a girl who was actually a lesbian and my hairy friends were nowhere to be seen. So I ran away.

And again.

And again.

Finally, on the dance floor she caught me with cheeky crotch grab. Oh well I thought, can't help but dance. Problem was, she glued her crotch against mine and soon we were pulling away and to be honest, I was loving her big soft and filthy lips.

Suddennly, I was attacked by a hairy black thing. Pushed to the floor I sprung up and was fronted by an incredibly angry monkey. I was so smashed I didn't know what was going on as he shouted at me. Suddenly he removed his head and I realised it was my mate Simon. Phew... I was saved fromy my ex. Not.

I claming told him where to go and proceeded to snog my ex whilst he stood, arms folded, only 3 feet away looking down on my with sheer disapproval. I don't remember this but apparently I decided to up the anti and undid the straps on my ex-s top and then span her round holding her breasts so it stayed on. Finally my monkey friend, seeing I was undressing my ex on the dance floor, pushed me away towards the door and the toilets where we both sobered up enough to realise that everyone was wasted, there was sick everywhere and at least two couples were having sex in the toilets. One girl had sex with 7 men that night.

On the way home one of my friends told me he was a virgin and said he didnt know when it would end. Very amusing.

I believe another was ejected from the club for being too drunk and I sprained my ankle by attempting to run up verticle monument to our World War veterans in the town centre.

The next day college was awash with tales of the great kisser in the Batman suit. "He must have not gone to our college," one girl noted. Like Bruce Wayne, my identity will always be secret...
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 12:58, Reply)
How Not To Celebrate Your Birthday
One year I was having people around, with the parent's permission, and I managed to mix medication and alcohol. Bad. Very, very bad.

I went to bed. Left everyone to amuse themselves. I had no choice in the matter, I don't remember doing it.

I do remember trying to give my cousin a cheery smile while I was retching into a bowl. Very pretty.

Then someone's friend came in and made me share her joint. Extra bad. Astonishingly worse than just the medication and alcohol mix.

This is when I became unconscious. With my parents in the next room completely oblivious. We're like that in my family.

My friends all came in and stood around pretending to hold the bucket for me while I hopefully puked. And made me hold flowers in the 'death' pose.

I know about it because they showed me the photos later. That they took on my camera. Using my film. And paid for with my money.

I felt like such a lucky girl.
(, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 12:47, Reply)

This question is now closed.

Pages: Latest, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, ... 1