Now then now then
Christmas 1992, aged 18, friend's parent's huge house, pissed up on Bailey's and Mateus Rose (I AM a girl). Pogoing rather too enthusiastically with the indie kids to Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit, I was tossed gaily into the Christmas tree and knocked out cold by the wall behind it.

Regaining consciousness a full minute later, I found the concerned face of cutest indie kid peering over me and his silken blond hair ticking my snout. I should really have gone to A&E, but in the circumstances it would seem rude not to retire to the master bedroom to play with his winky. It all went swimmingly until, in my befuddled, drunk and brain-injured state, he suddenly inexplicably reminded me of Jimmy Saville and I had to get out of there. Fast.

Thankfully I only lived across the road, as I only paused to put a coat on over my pants before running like the wind.

Length? Girth? It was legendary. If only I'd stayed and finished the job.
( weebear1974 discovering the joy of cat rape since, Wed 19 Apr 2006, 15:32, Reply)

Of many ...
My mother had buggered off to Amsterdam and had left with many worried looks and general "Please don't have a party while I'm away. I'm trusting you this time" etc... I had already arranged the party the week I found out she was going. I mean, she gets to go to the Dam and I don't? Pfft. So theres DJs and lots of people coming. I've heard little bits here and there about gatecrashing but think nothing of it as it's fairly expected.
On the night: Doorbell rings, so I go to the door and find no less than 30 chavs and assorted Raggas. I know some of them and plead with them not to come in. To no avail. Fuck it, I think, there really was nothing I could do.
Roster of damage:
One broken door from my having to kick it down because flower-pot bombs were going off the side of my balcony and into the street, once the door is down I find 10 chavs beating off to my stepfathers 70s B-porn.
My stereo goes out the window also.
the Pizza the DJs had ordered finally comes and the pizza man is greeted by howling boys who grab all his pizza, steal his bike and beat the crap out of him. Later a friend on her way to the party reports seeing a 15/16 year old dressed up in Dominoes Pizza outfit, covered in blood and crying.
someone drinks all my mums' white wine vinegar and throws up all over the hall.
Someone pissed all ver my bed, thankfully I passed out in the living room (woke up unscathed thank fuck). Others not so lucky.
I managed to clean everything up before my mum got home. Mother never knew a thing. Friends can be very helpful when you tell them you've just found a huge bag of coke under a mountain of beer cans... "I bet theres more... Help me look".

A week later my mother knocked on my bedroom door, walked in holding a sock filled with snooker balls (much harder than a koch.. you dig?). "Hmm... Do you know anything about this? I just found it under my bed."
"Um...."
(hung_low, Wed 19 Apr 2006, 15:18, Reply)

Beserker Fuel
I was 15 - my mate Ted's sister was having a party at the parents house for her 21st and I got invited.

It turned out that everyone was much older than Ted and I - and with him being surrounded by his family, couldn't drink. That didn't stop me though and in an act of 6 years younger bravado started ordering pints of red witch from the sister's fiance. Red Witch is SnakeBite's sociopathic sibling - it's snakebite and black with a double pernod in it - actually it's an almost certain motherfuckin' trip to A&E for one reason or another.

I had my second pint, third, was midway through my fifth when I apparently stormed out of the house saying that my girlfriend was coming but was late (I didn't have a girlfriend). What I didn't know whas that the fiance was also putting vodka into my drinks.

I woke up looking at my parents living room upside down, something cold pressing against my neck - my Dad (also upside down) looked at me from off the sofa and said "good morning Son - how are you feeling?". I felt absolutely fine - no hangover, just very cold from obviously sleeping on the cold tiles of the fireplace and confused because I didn't know how I got there after I walked out of the front door of the party?

(The following is an account of what happened during my blackout - made up from conversations with my Dad and Ted's family - to this day I still have no re-collection of any of the events)

My Dad received a phone call from Ted's parents at 10pm saying that they didn't know if they should call an ambulance or not - this of course got him straight in the car and he arrived at their house in 10 mins to find me encircled by Ted's brother's on the front lawn - my trousers ripped, wearing one show, covered in vomit, splattered all over in blood. During my Dad's opening gambit of "WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE TO MY SON?!" and him squaring off with Ted's very large brothers.

They went very defensive and said that they hadn't done anything to me, other than try to stop me hurting myself further and defend themselves. I came to, bezerk, screaming incoherent violence, grabbed one of the brothers legs, brought him down with force and then started pummeling. Until my Dad's fist connected, I went limp - he apologised to the family. They had found me like this - laying on the pavement at the end of their garden path, surrounded by skinheads laughing at me punching passing vehicles - taking great gouges out of my hands and occationally spinning me to the gutter, vomit, repeat. I was dragged kicking and screaming back to the garden spewing my guts up - lashing out at anything - crawling through bushes, being knocked down by the brothers when I came close to hurting them - which was when my dad arrived - just after I had thrown up on one of them then tried clawing and biting him - I got knocked out.

Dad decided to drive me home rather than take me to the hospital - I apparently came to in the car - shouted some slurred foreign crap at him, spewed over the dashboard, tried to grab the wheel, tried to get out whilst moving - then passed out again. I was like a ragdoll when he got me out of the car - Mum opened the front door - I came to again, thew up all over the hall wall - went for Dad again making Bruce Lee howling noises - got knocked to my arse - spat out all the black coffee they tried pouring into my mouth whilst my (very strong) Father restrained me and held my mouth open.

Then I passed out and turned grey for 8 hours - and what did my parents do? They stuck me on the tiled hearth which is about as cold as a mortuary slab.

I still have the scars and mis-shapen right hand as proof of that night, and also found out that it was the Pernod that caused the rumpus - Pernod is my beserker fuel having proved it by getting smashed on the stuff a few years later and bringing a chav's party in Crewe to a knife weilding and door smashing end..... oh the shame!
(Catchag "You know!....For Kids!", Wed 19 Apr 2006, 14:04, Reply)

NO WAY WAS IT ME.....
When i was 14 me and a mate gate crashed a half-friends house party. I got mashed on red wine and did chin ups on her parents open garage door. Someone stirred me from my half- in-the-road drunken slumber to say i had broken the garage door. im now 24 and off to the pub tonight, looking forward to passing out and the fact the pub as no garage door. Could not cope with getting barred from there as well. mmmm beer.
(TurboGEEK is thinking wizards should know better., Wed 19 Apr 2006, 13:56, Reply)

Ooh, a currently relevant story.
My friend who is 16 decided to throw a party while his parents, one of which is a policeman, were on holiday for the weekend.

His first mistake was letting 10 random chavs in.

£100 of Jack Daniels was stolen from his parent's cupboards.

My friend and two of the chavs stole his mum's car for an hour while extremely drunk and suprisingly returned it but parked it the wrong way around.

The parents new wardrobe ended up collapsed.

His dad's airrifle collection was used on a shooting things rampage around the village.

An entire street was kept awake all night long by the loud music and gunshots, although luckily no-one was hurt.

Then someone locked themselves in the parents bedroom, I had to kick the door in and chuck them out of there because my friend had started crying by now.

One of the chavs then got locked in the attic and sat trying to get down and when he was stopped by the other chavs below him with knives he attempted to shoot them with the air-rifles he had up there, so there are now pellet holes in all the walls and floor on the landing.

Then they finally left because his dad was on his way back.

Result: The house is for sale, my friend has to join the navy unless he wants to be reported to the police for taking the car and we're never allowed to speak to my friend again.

(names have been omitted for obvious reasons)

/Apologies for length and the wardrobe - nothing else was my fault./
(DRAGONSLAYER, Wed 19 Apr 2006, 13:18, Reply)

Just a 2 men night
to celebrate the end of the semester. I headed over to my mates house at around 9pm and we opened a 1L bottle of duty free barcadi. The night began with barcadi and 7-up which was complemented with a packet of Marlboros.

We finished the whole bottle in 45 mins and damn i tell u, it was the worse powershit drunk night ever. At around 10 i could feel the first wave of vomit coming so i threw up in his parents toilet. It was the watery kinda vomit which tasted sweet from the 7-up mix. All i could hear after that was my mate saying..."Dun move around! Just sit still and don't let the blood circulate then you'll be alright"

Stupid suggestion cause everytime i tried sitting down i got the balls shrinking feeling that you get when a car accelerates fast and had to throw up. Threw up about 10 times which lasted about 30 minutes, and the climax of the night was definitely the scene in which i was puking into the toilet bowl and my mate was puking into the sink which was about 5cm away from my face. (Hes' was red with bits of food in it)

We then proceeded to his room and put on some Pink Floyd in an attempt to get the "psychedelic feel" which failed miserably as we were too whacked out for that. More puking and then a 14 hour comatose sleep.

Damn i gotta do this again soon!
(deven_shire, Wed 19 Apr 2006, 12:20, Reply)

I'd suck your cock
(warning: long)

It all started with a mutual acquaintance's sister's birthday, which was being celebrated by way of a garage party in their tiny village, which was way out in the boondocks. 7pm sharp, folks. Stay over if you want.

On the sketchiest of pretexts, me and the gang decided to gatecrash because 'everyone we knew was going'. We were also told it was strictly BYOB, which entailed an early-evening visit to the local offie's on the day before the party. It was always best to go after 5pm, as that's when the owner decided it best to put the 11 year olds on the till, and they could hardly refuse to serve someone 5 years their senior.

Drink duly purchased, we decided to stash it in the local roundabout until the day of the party. Of course, Tom being the idiot that he is, we didn't realise the police were following us until we heard the shout of, 'Here boys!'

So we ran, leaving the drink half-concealed in a bush. Of course, the next night this was gone, so more needed to be purchased with much wailing and gnashing of teeth, yea. Taxi up, which cost some ungodly amount of money, drink extracted from boot, and we walked into the party like the raffish young cads we were.

They lied when they said BYOB.

3 large crates of various beers, many bottles of Hooch (it was the 90s) and a large jug with some luminous green crap in it, the main ingredients of which seemed to be potchin (80% spirit that you make yourself) and pain.

So we drank. There was dancing. There was teenage romance. There was general chaos. I remember up until about 8:30, after which everything becomes a strange blur. I'd all but finished my bottle of cider by this point, and sat in a circle of chairs comprising of the people to pissed to stand. I leaned over to Tom and said the immortal line: 'Tom, I love you. I'd suck yer cock if I could...'

Then I started on the beers. More people turned up, I shouted incoherently. Darrell, one of the few late arrivals who stayed, claimed that he was somewhere between incredibly pissed off at all the drunken idiots and incredibly scared by all the drunken idiots. Bottles were thrown. Someone got headbutted in the face. People were flykicked.

It was at this point that witnesses tell me I started emptying unattended drinks into my cider bottle. I did wonder why it suddenly got heavier, but thought nothing more of it until I spewed all over myself. A box was brought, I almost filled it with vomit. I wondered outside, and JB brought a chair out for me and took my drink. His mother drove past and dragged him home; caught with a bottle (mine) in his hand. I then proceeded to be pissed on, pass out hanging over a wall and generally behave like the paralytic twat I was. The dreadful irony is that some arse had put Irish Rover by The Pogues on repeat on the shitty CD player, and to this day I cannot listen to Shane Magowan's Martini-laced mumbling without wanting to spray the contents of my guts over the walls.

I passed out inside the garage in a pool of my own vomit at around 11. Not knowing what to do, the hosts put a sleeping bag round me and locked the garage. Bear in mind this is November - we're talking subzero temperatures here.

Came to in the dark with puke frozen to my face. Still completely wasted, stood up and tried the door. Locked. Attempted to phone someone with my trusty 3210, but I couldn't make hide nor hair of the display, which was oddly pulsating. I eventually made my escape by kicking in a window, climbing through (knocking over a very large bottle of gin in the process) and vanishing into the freezing, foggy night.

I walked the 7 miles home. I collapsed outside my front door at about 4 in the morning. The postman found me at 6. How I didn't die from either hypothermia or alcoholic poisoning I will never know. I remained pissed until god knows what time the next day, after which a 2-day hangover kicked in.

I swore two things after that little incident: never to drink chemcial cider again, which I kept, and never to drink as heavily ever again. That one got scratched at New Year.
(New Lassic; new danger, Wed 19 Apr 2006, 11:48, Reply)

At a friend's party at school
Someone climbed into the attic and dun a wee-wee in the water tank.

The poor family were washing in wee for weeks.
( Mr Gear the gay-maker, Wed 19 Apr 2006, 11:36, Reply)

a bloody mess
A few years ago when me and my mates were still at college we used to get together at my parents house for small parties drinking and the like as my parents didnt care what we got up to and the house was big enough that we didnt usually disturb them.

This one time we had popped to tesco before and ended up buying loads of beer and some really really cheap white labelled vodka.

As we got into the night watching football and drinking beer, we noticed that the supply of beer was getting smaller and smaller so we thought that it was time to try the nasty looking vodka. after a couple of glasses of that i have no memory until i woke up and saw a massive bloody splat on the wall and blood drips on the floor, a fridge tray full of vomit , and a blood crusted mate.

Ive been told that during the night a friend needed the loo and walked to what he thought was the door which infact was opposite to where he was heading and he tripped and smashed his head hard into the wall. someone else woke up and saw this and blood splattered guy said he wasnt feeling too well so the first thing that was found was the fridge tray for him (even though there are huge holes in the bottom).

Then everyone went back to bed.

The next day when we found out what had happened we had to shoot off to casualty while leaving my mum to clean the bloody and mess up.
(hairymonkey, Wed 19 Apr 2006, 11:13, Reply)

My Mates Parents
They hated us and thought that if they didn't tell anyone until Friday afternoon that they were going away for the weekend then we couldn't throw a mad party, right?
By 6pm all of the furniture and carpets had been moved upstairs for protection, vast amounts of booze were chilling in the fridge and I was helping the band by setting up the P.A and drumkit.
Of course we only went to extremes to see if we could.

If they had told us their travel plans a week before we probably wouldn't of had a party. I guess we liked a challenge back then.
( Terry Oblong There's nobody here but us chickens on, Wed 19 Apr 2006, 10:57, Reply)

Smashed on Tequilla
I wouldn't really call it a "party" as it was only me and my brother. But we were celebrating the last day of our family home in Kent before my mum moved out. In order to get there though we had to travel by train from Brighton, so obviously by the time we got there we were already tanked up from copious amounts of larger drank on the way. We were staying at my sisters and she had already gone to sleep but left a bottle of Tequila out, hurrah!

I'm sure those of you who have had a sesh on Tequila will know that it is a completely different kind of drunk, more of a buzz. We done half the bottle before my brother lost his bottle, I got a second wind and encouraged the drinking of the rest of the bottle, it would have been rude not to.

Feeling bloody good I went to have a slash. I woke next to the toilet with my piece out and "piece" all down one leg, I got up and had a second attempt. I woke up again, but this time much later with my brother also wrapped around the loo with a pair of my sisters partners boxer shorts in his hand which he had been using to mop the sick from his mouth with. This time I finished my slash correctly without blacking out and went to crash on the sofa.

I spent the entire next day puking into a bucket as we moved to contents of the home up to Cumbria. Oh yay, I can't drink that stuff anymore!
( Firkinfedup last shat on your wife's tits at, Wed 19 Apr 2006, 10:56, Reply)

Another party
Had a house party at uni, in order to ensure numbers we invited everyone. And then they (apparently) invited everyone else. We ended up with approximately 150 people in our house, most of whom we didn't know.

Did they wreck it? Did they have sex in our beds? No. In fact they protected our stuff.

So much so, that when my mate went to get some money from his room he was stopped by a bunch of guys who thought we was stealing.

Did they believe him when he said it was his room? No.

They beat him up for stealing.
(breakfastwithjam, Wed 19 Apr 2006, 10:31, Reply)

Strangly Fruity
About the age of around 16 a few of us were doing the usual house party that most of you seem to have encountered... one of our group ( John ) was known as a bit of a mothers boy so me and a mate ( Matt ) decided to do a " wizard jape " on him.

We got a condom, and with the help of the owner of the house's fridge we placed a dollop of fruit yogurt in to the condom and placed it in Johns coat pocket (which was with all the other coats on a bed in one of the upstairs rooms ).We hoped that this would be later found by his mother thus elavating the mummys boys to "man of the world" status.

The evening ended as most, with us walking along trying to find a 24 hour garage to satisfy our munchies. Whilst walking along with hands in his pockets John looks puzzled and pulled out the condom to shouts of " Errgg , which Dirty Fucker left his used nodder in my coat ?" . This left me with only one apropriate course of action , I grabbed the condom from Johns hand , opened up the suspect package and dipped my finger into the man custard filling " hmmm tastes like one of Matt's to me " says I.
Queue John chucking up , and a story which has been told many times since.

Although there is no truth in the version thats told where John then takes out another condom out of his other pocket and says " Erggh , this one smells like strawberry yogurt ! "
(phildperv, Wed 19 Apr 2006, 4:22, Reply)

Yesterday!!!
I woke up with a small labradoodle in my arms, vanilla ice ream next to me and my neck smelling like the vanilla, a drumstick between my arse cheeks, various cuts and bruises and a block of cheese was missing from my fridge.
Somehow I got from one end of town to the other totally wasted and stolen a friends dog and ice cream! Drumstick was put there by said friend Binny and I'm pretty sure in this drunken state I decided I was going to make this party awesome so I could post this very post!
( Supersam11 Can I go on the slides please?, Wed 19 Apr 2006, 0:26, Reply)

3/4
Tenuous link to house party theme, but we were teenagers (19) and it did start as an innocent enough Uni house party:

Then 4 of us decided to go to VodBull in the Birmingham Academy. We'll call them mates #1, #2 and #3 to protect the innocent.

We get there and each consume an equal amount (?8 doubles) of vodka.

Story of Mate #1:
I'm called outside by security guards to find mate #1 leaning against the wall, vomiting. He's being consoled by two members of the homeless community. Well, one's consoling, one's stealing his wallet.

I spirit him back to his gaff in a taxi with ALL windows wound FULLY down and him sticking his head out one vomiting. Put him to bed, as he settles the phone at the end of his be rings. Who could this be?

Story of Mate #2:
"Hello there, this is Officer X of the West Midlands Police. Do you know a [name of Mate #2]"

"Er, yes"

"We've found him slumped on the ring road [very busy road in Birmingham] near Snobs nightclub"

"Oh ok, shall I come and get him"

"yes please"

[those of you who know Birmingham will know it's a long way from the Academy to Snobs when you can't walk]

I engage the same taxi driver to return to town . Find Officer X and mate #2 in a doorway, crying his eyes out. Cajole him into taxi, journey proceeds as with mate #1. return him to his bed. He confesses on the way that he accused officer X of stealing his phone, and, when it was returned, throwing the phone across the ring road: "didn't want it anyway"

Return to the academy (why the hell not?) and stand at the bar idly wondering about mate #3

Story of Mate #3:
When, out of the corner of my eye, I spot mild-mannered, bookish mate #3 snogging a girl. "Oh, I didn't realise mate #3's GF was here" thinks I.

[bear in mind mate#3 and his gf were, and still are, THE REAL THING. They were and are very much in love. They are ever faithul to one another]

The snogging couple turn around. It is immediatley clear that the snogee is not mate#3's gf of 2 years, but some entirely random female.

To this day, the GF in question has no idea of the events that transpired.

Sequel #1: The next day, a colleague in the lab tells of seeing a bloke fitting the discription of mate #2 weaving his way over the ASTON EXPRESSWAY.

Sequel #2: The next day, mate #2 is shopping for a new phone. Who should he run into but officer X? Oh how they laughed.

Apols for length and tenuous link to original question.
(drfusion, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 23:50, Reply)

Sprung by the olds
Back when I was at university I heard a host of Bazza stories. Bazza was a bit of a legend in his time, and in this particular social group - which happened to be a university choir group.

My favorite Bazza story tells about a particular post-concert party which was being held at the home of one of the seemingly young, innocent first year girls. Late in the evening, people have had a few drinks and Bazza finds himself having it off with the nubile, young hostess - under the kitchen table. In walk her parents who have been out for the evening and are extremely shocked to see their daughter, pants around the ankles, mid-shag on the kitchen floor. Rather than recoil in horror and make a mad dash, Bazza simply turns his head, looks up at the parents and says "Don;t mind me, I'll be done in a minute." and returns to the task at hand.. Yay Bazza.

Apologies for the crap retelling of a great story.
(pit, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 22:33, Reply)

I could have been on Cops...
I hardly ever got to throw parties when I was a teenager, because I was kind of a juvenile delinquent and my parents didn't trust me one bit. (rightfully so.) So imagine my amazement when they announced that they were going to china for a week in July and leaving me alone. Everything was in place, my brother, who is a complete douchebag and would most definately have dropped the dime on me if he was there was at summer school, my sister who is very nice but prone to annoying fits of integrity was working in Colorado at a summer camp, so I had free reign. We kicked off the party with just my close friends and 6 flats of Milwaukee's Best. After some serious alcohol consumption we decided it would be a great idea to get some meat, then dig a huge pit in my backyard and roast it all over an open fire. We needed fuel for the fire so we raided a neighbor's house that was under construction and took all the wooden pallets that they had, which ended up making a stack about as tall as a person. Needless to say the meat was inedible because of all of the gasoline we used to start the fire, but the fire had an unexpected benefit of attracting just about every single young person in the area. Now my house was full of all kinds of strange people I had never met before, but I was far too drunk to care. Out of the blue at about 4 AM, my best friend comes up, furious that his bag of weed was missing. Now instead of chalking it up to loss, or blaming one of the dozens of random strangers running around, he becomes convinced that I was the one who stole it. I suppose heavy drinking combined with enough meth to keep an army awake will do that to you. I was just sober enough to keep calm and gently explain that I never touched his bag, and that I would be glad to help him find it, or even buy him a new bag if he needed it. This was not good enough. A few drunken swings at me later, and a couple that actually connected, the limits of our friendship were being seriously tested. i earned some points with the other people at the party by actually being able to restrain myself from hitting him back. When my other friends tried to calm him down, he swung at them too and then wrestled free, got in his car, and sped off, yelling obscenities over his shoulder, most of the mdirected at me to the tune of "I can't believe I wasted my life being friends with you you motherfucker." I was worried as hell, but far too drunk to drive after him, so I called his cell phone a few times. No answer, but a few minutes later he called me back with another stream of obscenities, and this time accusing me of making him drive drunk and that he had now blown a tire and it was all my fault. I asked him where he was, and was barely able to make it out with all the cursing he was doing, while vehemently denying that he needed my help, and besides, even if he did I would be the last person he would take it from. In spite of that, and the probably close to .30 BAC in my system, I got in my car to go help him out before he got himself arrested. Well, as much as I was trying to keep him from ending up in jail, he was apparently concentrating on doing whatever he could to get himself there. When he realized who it was pulling up behind him, he got out still cursing, but this time holding a tire iron. First he threatened to smash all of my windows in, then threatened to hit me in the face. I didn't back down, but instead yelled at him to fucking try it. At this point some woman leaned out of her window and shouted that if we didn't shut up she would call the police. In our only moment of solidarity of the entire night we both yelled "shut up you cunt" at exactly the same time. Well she made good on her promise, and a few minutes later the police showed up. Luckily by then the adrenaline had sobered me up enough that I was able to speak for both of us and explain that no there was no problem here and yes that tire iron was only being used to fix the flat and no I did not want to press any charges. They looked suspicious, but left us alone once I promised to drive my still crazed friend home after locking his keys in his car. He woke up the next morning with apparently no memory of what had happened the night before, but did manage to ask me, "I think I did something terrible last night, have you seen my car?" He still owes me big. I was now left with the monumental task of cleaning up, which I was in no mood to do, so i raked all the beer cans to a corner of my yard, filled in the still smoldering hole, and made my escape to Colorado to take shelter with my sister so that I was safely 2000 miles away when I got the inevitable "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY HOUSE?!?!" call from my parents. They never left me alone again.
(raulduke, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 22:10, Reply)

Got drunk on the beach...
The boardwalk was a viaduct - victorian structure with arches underneath. Loads of private areas for snogging, shagging and toilet activities, all connected by tunnels from one to the next.
I had 2 blokes on the go. I kept moving between the arches and snogging them when I got there, then saying I had to go to the loo, at which point I'd go snog the other one. They never found out. I didn't leave with either of them.
Went to the 'Loo arch', only to find my friend had passed out mid piss. There she was, jeans and kickers round her ankles, face down in the sand. Took two of us to make her decent again. Then we left her.
Ahhh, Thunderbird. Happy days.
(Peelmytangerines, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 21:55, Reply)

Skinny dipping
My best friend Phil throws fantastic parties. His family own a bouncy castle rental business so at various times there have been bouncy castles, giant slides, assault courses, rodeo bulls, candy floss etc. Always great, even before you add in alcohol (though not when trying to play British bulldog against an American Football player on a bouncy castle. Losing an eyebrow piercing bloody hurts!).

Aaanyways, his first party was a Christmas party when we were 16/17. His parents allowed and supplied significant quantities of booze. Highlight of the night was a large group of us heading down to the beach (it was only 2 mins away). Phil has been after a particular girl for ages, and she blatently knows. We're all freezing but enjoying the stars etc, when said girl pipes up 'Let's go skinny dipping!!'. I have never seen a man move so fast. Phil was just entering the water and now half-naked as the rest of us were going 'nah, it's a bit cold' and just watched him, in fits of laughter. Bless. He didn't get the girl.
(amasis, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 20:53, Reply)

Check the uniform colour
Was lazing in the hot tub with my mate, in his first rental in Miami. Half a dozen of us there, with enough booze and ganja for a few hours. It was a public hot tub for the complex, and hours posted as "Closed after 10:00 pm".

At 11 or so, the rent-a-cop security guard comes by and tells us to leave. My mate looks at us and says "She does this all the time - she's kewl", and ignores her. She leaves. "She'll be back in an hour or so, we'll leave then" he says.

We smoke another spliff. Another sixer later, she's back. Tells us to leave. My mate replies "We'll be out when we're ready". A male voice replies "Well, if you're not ready right fast, we'll all head downtown to discuss this.".

I turn around and notice that one of them is not in uniform - she's wearing dark blue, and he's wearing tan.

Shite. Miami City cop - not a rent-a-cop.

I stand up very calmly, aplogise to both of them, the rest of us grab our host and the cooler etc, and leave very quickly. I wait til we're back in his apartment and explain to my mate what we just escaped from. Booze = Illegal in hot tub. Ganja = Illegal in city (really). But we left without them confiscating either.

The next time we used the hot tub, we were out of there by 10:01. Never saw her again either.
(nitecruzr, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 20:29, Reply)

Fine china
My Best freind threw a party during winter at the tender age of 16. We're stocked to the brim with tequila, Mr. Daniels and a keg. It was around Christmas time, so front lawns were nicely decorated. Many keg stands and a tequila shot later, me and 2 of my freinds walked around the neighborhood stealing plastic candy canes, lawn lights, plastic santas and even a 7 ft x-mas tree from a lot. Uppon returning to the party with the booty, we decided to celebrate our victorious looting with a nice tall glass of keg ale.

We searched high and low for glasses and alas we find glasses behind a glass case in the living room. It being locked and all, we thought it was a brilliant idea to smash it open with a boot. Few cuts and drinks later. We were asked to leave.

I asked if we could take our glasses. They said no. Well then...how about my tree?
It was fooker lugging that thing home.

In prison, they hate length too.
(The Horizontal Monster Mash Mr. T Pitties Me, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 20:13, Reply)

The Ice
The Ice is something of a legend around these parts. In reality, he's my mate that lives round the corner with a garage we can use for smoking weed and generally monging out.
Anyway, there was this one house party a couple of weeks ago where The Ice happened to cop off with a rather lovely lady, and proceeded to violate her in the ways that a 17 year old knows best.
After everyone had passed out/gone to sleep, The Ice decided to go to the bog (finish himself off/wash his hands) on this journey though, the lodger confonted him.
We didn't know there was a lodger. We didn't really know the host. The Ice especially wasn't aware he wasn't meant to use the lodger's toilet to clear lady juice off his hands.
The lodger wasn't very happy that her vibrator was no longer in her sock drawer, but in the sink.

Nobody at the party looked very happy at being woken up at 3am by a drunken lodger chasing The Ice (trying to hide his hard-on) round the house, wielding a huge pink dildo above her head trying to kick him out the house.

As if to rub salt in the wound, during the next morning's clean-up, the host found a webcam hidden under the stereo, able to see the whole room. Turns out her dad had set up a wireless connection, so that he could keep an eye on his lovely daughter and lovely house.

Oh the shock
(normannomates, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 19:02, Reply)

This wasn't much of an amazing party...
... But I recieved news today which makes it so tragically funny. The party happened about nearly 2 years ago now. I had just finished my GCSE's and had been seeing this girl for a few weeks (we're still together as she's fantastic, but this story has little to do with her). A friend of hers was having a party and I was invited along with a few of my own mates.
I got to the party a little after 8 as I recall and most people were pretty drunk already. However none of them were as drunk as one young lad, the younger brother of someone I didnt know, who was the same age as my sister (11 at the time, I was shocked no one was being responsible for him).
Anyway this kid is off his face and starts coming onto EVERY girl there by simply asking them if they will have sex with him. Obviously he wasn't very experienced with all these 'females'. In the end he fell asleep in a shed and pissed himself.


I have just been informed this morning that my little sister is currently seeing this little piss head.
I'm not sure how I feel about this.
(Monkeyofspong, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 18:56, Reply)

smoking > drinking
if i remember correctly i went to a party that a friend of mine knew about that was full of stupid hicks in their mid twenties (my friends and i were 18). we had smoked a very large amount of pot before hand because we expected it to be boring, and it was. the best thing there was a picture taht i remember having "lots of colors". while we were enjoying ourselves with the picture some drunk chick came and tried to make us play a drinking game. we instead told her to "go make out with a horse you stupid fucking hick". she told us to leave. still very much in love with the painting we stole it and ran out of the house with only minor cuts and scrapes. good thing they had no idea who we were or where we were from, cause i still have that painting on my wall.
(spoonerism2, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 18:30, Reply)

a college spin the bottle game
at a mainly theatre-major party in an apartment. well, being theatre majors they insisted that you kiss whoever it landed on, even (especially) if it was two guys, and being college, this was a roughly 20 second make out for each "kiss." i managed to make enough excuses to escape that fate, despite much jeering. thankfully there was probably a 7 to 1 girl guy ratio.

anyway, this one obnoxious cunt with braces kept getting to kiss the same girls over and over, to the point where these girls were actually becoming revolted with having to kiss him over and over, so they came over to my side of the circle and started making out with me so they wouldn't have to return to the game. score.

that was the good part. the better part comes where I sneak off into the kitchen with the girl that had been sitting next to me (who was also two years older and owner of the apartment) to snog for roughly an hour. finally we break away and she tells me her name and her favorite color, etc.

the bad part comes when obnoxious cunt walks in to announce he is leaving, then says to the girl "hey i need one more" and sloppily kisses her before she has time to say anything. right fucking in front of me. is there no decency in the world? no sense of terri-try?

oh, and she made me sleep on the floor that night.
( AgentMuu hentai coordination, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 18:14, Reply)

Pea Pod Wine
This happened when we were in the sixth form at school. The names have been left the same to expose the guilty. Paul (whose house it was) had parents who were in to winemaking. Paul's parents had unwisely gone away for the weekend leaving Paul in charge of a) the house and b) the entire stock of a batch of pea-pod wine they had just made. I mean we are talking like dozens of bottles of this rats-piss, highly potent with alcohol, but with all the finesse of a rough chablis with the tang of peasant's toenail and a bouquet of athletes' foot.

Party round at Paul's then. Four of us convened. Me, Mel, Jeff, and of course Paul. Several bottles of peapod wine were uncorked and sample. Paul and Jeff were both sick into the sink, and then tried to push the big bits down the plughole with their fingers, all the time giggling like girlies and saying to each other over and over "you know we MUST be pissed to be doing this". I snatched a ceremonial sword off the wall and tried to chase Paul's family cat up the stairs. The cat was not only younger and fitter than me, but was also emplying the considerable advantange of not having consumed enough alcohol to stun an ox. It escaped, I tripped on the stairs and nearly kebabbed my own nuts. I lay there, stunned, while the next bits unfolded.

Paul and Jeff grabbed a "post horn" thingum off the wall and went out in to the garden and started blowing it, causing one of the neighbours, a well known local solicitor, to open his window and shout "would you kindly stop that NOISE" in a sort of John Cleese voice. For some reason we all thought this was undescribably funny and they couldn't blow it again for giggle-fits every time they tried.

Jeff decided he must go home. Mel had passed out on the lawn and lay there, groaning. Jeff skipped merrily over him, saying "see you Mel!" For all I know, Mel is still there. Paul passed out back in the house. I was trying to hold on to the stairs which were doing a very passable imitation of the big dipper at Alton Towers.

Jeff's drunken momentum actually got him quite a long way home. But eventually he fell over with his head in the gutter. He swears that, while he was lying there, a hedgehog came up, sniffed him, and asked if he was OK.

Next after the hedgehog came a police car, manned by two of Humberside's finest, who stood him up and got him to turn out his pockets, which contained a duffle coat toggle and a guitar plectrum. They must've felt sorry for him because they offered him a life home, but he slurred that he'd be OK and weaved off into the night.

Do not. ever. have. a peapod wine hangover. It is. the. very. worst. I would rather set my hair on fire and put it out with a spade than ever ever drink that foul piss again. Thank Christ it never made it to maturity, but the yeast played havoc with my arse for days afterwards and if I close my eyes I can still imagine the taste of Chateu Peapod. Bluergh.

Still we all do these things when we're young.

Length? Excessive. Girth - sadly, these days, also excessive.
(Bookman_Oldstyle, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 17:50, Reply)

tunes
i went to a teenage party where mc tunes (only rhyme that bites) was MCing musical chairs.Sadly i won
(purplehaybailer, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 17:41, Reply)

My first house party
Went to my first house party aged 15. Drank 6 cans of lager and a bottle of homemade wine. Dislocated my shoulder, 4 stitches in my head and a twisted ankle. My first of many killer hangovers.

What happened: Arrived at Nicks for a 'piss up'. His parents were away. Drank lots and ran around his village (rural Northamptonshire) and caused some disturbance. Went back to his house drank and ate everything in the cupboards with the other 15 mates. Went up stairs to puke and couldn't get to bathroom in time. Puked out of first floor window on to Nicks Dads car. Then fell down the stairs and did damage to myself.

Best bit was that Nicks Dads had left his sun roof open on his new BMW!
( Toma_o, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 17:30, Reply)

Monkgate in York
I threw up in someone's sock draw (they shouldn't have rolled a tulip) and possibly the fittest girl ever to have shown an interest in me uttered the words 'shut up and kiss me you fool'. Instead of kissing her I laughed so hard I threw up a little bit more.
(kidcamel is due to call your mum at, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 17:25, Reply)

Random House Parties...
A few stories, but here's a choice one..

When I was 19 and a fresh faced Uni student, I tried to attend almost every house party that happened during the first term. My fellow serial-attendees (3 of them) and I would turn up after the pub or club had shut, with beer in hand and something to smoke. One particularly snowy evening before Christmas we crashed the Uni Rugby team house party (a risk we thought taking), drank lots of beer, chatted up a particularly nice girl and snogged her - to find she was going out with one of the guys whose house it was. Nice move to start with. Then we found a permanent black marker pen and drew the whole of the Star wars trilogy (when it was still a trilogy) across the landing and staircase white walls. We were encouraged by lots of girls you see... had to do it. Then we went outside after being chucked out by said Rugby lads. Someone in my group called them 'Wankers' and a pitched snow ball fight with them happened with about 15 of them and 4 of us running down the road being chased. Then we went back and threw snow balls at their house and broke 2 windows, accidentally. Much chasing happened and the police were called. We ran and hid (very brave). Rugby lads lost their temper with the Police and 3 of them got carted off in a Meat Wagon!!! Result!
( Toma_o, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 17:15, Reply)