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.
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chthonic, Thu 13 Apr 2006, 10:20)
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Now then now thenChristmas 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,
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