Unexpected Nudity
There you are minding your own business, looking neither to the left, nor to the right, when suddenly... SURPRISE TODGER!
Tell us just how un-erotic unexpected encounters with nudey people can be.
(suggested by wanderingjoe)
( , Thu 28 May 2009, 13:32)
There you are minding your own business, looking neither to the left, nor to the right, when suddenly... SURPRISE TODGER!
Tell us just how un-erotic unexpected encounters with nudey people can be.
(suggested by wanderingjoe)
( , Thu 28 May 2009, 13:32)
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Footballs coming home - In the nudie
Unfortunately I seem to spend my life being that person, the one that's always in the wrong place at the wrong time, well, for surprise nudity that is. I seem to have a talent for seeing things I’d rather not see, whether its men pissing up the side of buildings outside night clubs, or women with their skirts tucked into their pants walking in front of me (I do chase them and tell them I promise) so yes, this probably won’t be the only post from me this week!
So yes nudies – Names have been changed to protect the innocent… well not so much innocent as just plain drunk and stupid.
This story takes place in the dodgy market town of March back in swingin’ 2004. After finishing up a night of too much booze coupled with bad Chinese food and a trip to the emergency room to have a glass ashtray removed from a friends head (that’s a whole other story) we finally made it back to my best friend Alison’s house for a cheeky drink and 3.00am South Park madness. Alison’s fiancée Tom had a bit of a rough time and was barley functioning on planet Earth when we tucked him into bed and closed the bedroom door allowing him time to sleep off the booze… or so we thought.
About 15 minutes after leaving Tom we heard an almighty bang (which I have still not worked out the whereabouts) coming from the bedroom. Alison got up and wandered out of the room muttering that Tom had probably fallen out of the bed (if only)… about 30 seconds later she came out of the room begging for help - Turns out Tom was still tucked up in bed but had vomited up his entire Chinese meal all over his face. Nice. As if this wasn’t enough of a horrible thing to deal with, Tom has also clearly felt constricted as he had taken off all his clothes and was completely starkers underneath the covers. It was at this point all the guys in the house ran away. Cheers.
Now I didn’t really want to see any part of Tom’s tackle so at first we tried to lift him out of the bed with the covers wrapped around him, the plan… erm… get him out of the bed and then into the bathroom. Problem was in his drunken state he thought we were trying to hurt him by pulling his arm so he kept thrashing around in the bed shouting that we were ‘evil doers’ and he was going to ‘stop all the games and eat pie’?? After 5 minutes of nonsense and whirling swirling bedcovers we decided this wasn’t the way forward, we needed him to get out of the bed of his own accord (not Honda Accord).
We left the bedroom and got one of the useless guys to shout out Tom’s name in the hope he would get up. We then ran back into the room and told Tom he had to get up as his friend Rob was hurt and needed his help, it was a lame plan but it only bloody worked, well… sort of. Tom fell out of the bed shouting ‘I’m coming Rob’. Managed to crawl half way across the bedroom floor before pulling a hoover on top of himself sobbing ‘It’s too far, its like the two towers’?
Eventually after much drama we managed to steer him into the bathroom and he crawled into the shower along with the duvet and cried while we turned on the water ‘why do you hate me, I’m so lovely, why do you hate me’. Once most of the vomit had left his face I abandoned Alison to deal with peeling off the wet vomit-soaked bedsheets.
I waited outside the door with the cowardly blokes and exclaimed ‘I can’t believe I just got through all that without being flashed by Tom’… cue Tom, bashing through the bathroom door, falling on top of me, bollock-naked and unnecessarily aroused. Cue me screaming, Tom singing ‘footballs coming home’ and Alison crying.
Ah Friday nights in March.
( , Thu 28 May 2009, 17:12, 7 replies)
Unfortunately I seem to spend my life being that person, the one that's always in the wrong place at the wrong time, well, for surprise nudity that is. I seem to have a talent for seeing things I’d rather not see, whether its men pissing up the side of buildings outside night clubs, or women with their skirts tucked into their pants walking in front of me (I do chase them and tell them I promise) so yes, this probably won’t be the only post from me this week!
So yes nudies – Names have been changed to protect the innocent… well not so much innocent as just plain drunk and stupid.
This story takes place in the dodgy market town of March back in swingin’ 2004. After finishing up a night of too much booze coupled with bad Chinese food and a trip to the emergency room to have a glass ashtray removed from a friends head (that’s a whole other story) we finally made it back to my best friend Alison’s house for a cheeky drink and 3.00am South Park madness. Alison’s fiancée Tom had a bit of a rough time and was barley functioning on planet Earth when we tucked him into bed and closed the bedroom door allowing him time to sleep off the booze… or so we thought.
About 15 minutes after leaving Tom we heard an almighty bang (which I have still not worked out the whereabouts) coming from the bedroom. Alison got up and wandered out of the room muttering that Tom had probably fallen out of the bed (if only)… about 30 seconds later she came out of the room begging for help - Turns out Tom was still tucked up in bed but had vomited up his entire Chinese meal all over his face. Nice. As if this wasn’t enough of a horrible thing to deal with, Tom has also clearly felt constricted as he had taken off all his clothes and was completely starkers underneath the covers. It was at this point all the guys in the house ran away. Cheers.
Now I didn’t really want to see any part of Tom’s tackle so at first we tried to lift him out of the bed with the covers wrapped around him, the plan… erm… get him out of the bed and then into the bathroom. Problem was in his drunken state he thought we were trying to hurt him by pulling his arm so he kept thrashing around in the bed shouting that we were ‘evil doers’ and he was going to ‘stop all the games and eat pie’?? After 5 minutes of nonsense and whirling swirling bedcovers we decided this wasn’t the way forward, we needed him to get out of the bed of his own accord (not Honda Accord).
We left the bedroom and got one of the useless guys to shout out Tom’s name in the hope he would get up. We then ran back into the room and told Tom he had to get up as his friend Rob was hurt and needed his help, it was a lame plan but it only bloody worked, well… sort of. Tom fell out of the bed shouting ‘I’m coming Rob’. Managed to crawl half way across the bedroom floor before pulling a hoover on top of himself sobbing ‘It’s too far, its like the two towers’?
Eventually after much drama we managed to steer him into the bathroom and he crawled into the shower along with the duvet and cried while we turned on the water ‘why do you hate me, I’m so lovely, why do you hate me’. Once most of the vomit had left his face I abandoned Alison to deal with peeling off the wet vomit-soaked bedsheets.
I waited outside the door with the cowardly blokes and exclaimed ‘I can’t believe I just got through all that without being flashed by Tom’… cue Tom, bashing through the bathroom door, falling on top of me, bollock-naked and unnecessarily aroused. Cue me screaming, Tom singing ‘footballs coming home’ and Alison crying.
Ah Friday nights in March.
( , Thu 28 May 2009, 17:12, 7 replies)
I like it...
... and therefore I shall click.
I love drunken, half concious non sequiturs. My friend Touri (I think that's how you spell her name) was brilliant for them.
My favourite was when she half rose from a comatose state one night, while we partied around her, and said "Rotimer, do they have photocopiers South of the Tyne" to which I replied, "Yes, I believe they do".
She ended this insightful exchange with a muttering about a "solid metal guitar" and lapsed back into sleep.
( , Thu 28 May 2009, 18:36, closed)
... and therefore I shall click.
I love drunken, half concious non sequiturs. My friend Touri (I think that's how you spell her name) was brilliant for them.
My favourite was when she half rose from a comatose state one night, while we partied around her, and said "Rotimer, do they have photocopiers South of the Tyne" to which I replied, "Yes, I believe they do".
She ended this insightful exchange with a muttering about a "solid metal guitar" and lapsed back into sleep.
( , Thu 28 May 2009, 18:36, closed)
"It’s too far, its like the two towers"
Semi-lucid LOTR references FTW!
( , Mon 1 Jun 2009, 23:23, closed)
Semi-lucid LOTR references FTW!
( , Mon 1 Jun 2009, 23:23, closed)
See I can only assume that's...
what he was referencing - I can't think of anything else it applies to!?
Bless, anytime distance is mentioned by Tom the immediate response is 'It's too far, its like the two towers' - Drunken ramblings are for life, not just for Christmas!
( , Tue 2 Jun 2009, 11:34, closed)
what he was referencing - I can't think of anything else it applies to!?
Bless, anytime distance is mentioned by Tom the immediate response is 'It's too far, its like the two towers' - Drunken ramblings are for life, not just for Christmas!
( , Tue 2 Jun 2009, 11:34, closed)
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