Teenage PartiesAh, 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.
(
chthonic, Thu 13 Apr 2006, 10:20)
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Oedipus wrecksI 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)
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