Work - The curse of the drinking class.
Apologies for the length - my first post, might as well make it a good one.

One sunny day, I decided to go for a few beverages down in the local tavern at about mid-day. With a couple of mates, we decided we should just stay out all day, and call it an early night; Sounds so simple doesn't it?

At approximately 6pm we decided to go to the local pool hall and make complete tits of ourselves. This was about the only part of the day that went to plan.

2am - At the local pizza shop announcing the slurry of gibberish that was to be the name of an item of food. A Chilli burger sounds nice at about this time of the day, don't you think?

3am - Passed out in the kitchen, with my face hovering a little over an inch above the remains of the jalapeno smothered burger i'd acquired the night before.

05:30am - I'm up for work. A little groggy, and smelling like i'd just been dragged arse-first through a brewery that manufactures, and smokes Chilli flavoured cigarettes. Apart from that, I'm feeling (surprisingly) fine.

08:30 - Spewing my guts up in the facilities at the place where I work.

09:00 - Sat on the very same toilet - praying to god. My arse felt like Nigel Mansel had just completed the "lower intestinal circuit" at record-breaking speed, and punched through the other end - in a car made of PURE FIRE.

9:30 - Still sat on the very same toilet, receiving phone calls on my works mobile. What a giggle - "Hi, are you available to go into a meeting?", "Yeah sure, i'm just doing some paperwork" *FLUSH* "What time does it start?" *SPATTER* *FART* "Erm, erm, 20 minutes." *SPATTER* *FART* *FLUSH*.

10:00 - The torment ended, and the runners up in the "race of fire" managed to finally finish. It's all over.

Wrong.

11:00 - Running to the toilet to spew again. All the cubicles and urinals were occupied. I decided to run up to the next floor. I get up the stairs, and couldn't quite make it in time; managed to vomit all over the door. The cleaners loved me for that one.

13:00 - Just after lunch. Perhaps mexican chicken wasn't the clever idea. Back to the toilet for a take-2. PURE FIRE. Bloody Hell, it was a nightmare. I couldn't have picked a busier day for it either. Bloody work.
(beer_molester, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 9:18, Reply)