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This is a question My Worst Vomit

We all love a drink. Some of us love them so much they want to see them again on the way out of their mouths. I once got caught by surprise by the boozy sickness while chatting to some friends in my kitchen. Quick as a flash I grabbed a nearby pan and chundered away merrily in it. Realising it was probably time for bed I staggered off to my room. Unfortunately, my co-ordination failed just as I reached the landing and I somersaulted down the entire flight of stairs with my saucepan full of vomit. Beat that!

(, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:00)
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Chunder ~Mountain.
Ahhhh.....the last time I drank vodka...

And NO spologies for length.

I'd been sniffing around a young lass I with for ages and she'd finally put me out of my misery by telling me to 'go fuck yourself, my boyfriend's on leave from the Paras this weekedn and you've got 5 minutes to disappear or I'm telling him who you are and what you've just been saying to me', it was friday night so I thought 'stuff it, I'll do what any sensible person feeling fucked by love(or the trouser-based equivalent anyway) does and get drunk.'

Off I headed to my local boozer, having first consumed a bottle of what can only be described as Spanish Anti-Freeze.
I then proceeded to drink 6 pints of Greene King's then legendary Winter Ale(about 6.5-ish-% ABV CAMRA members and people with beards).

I then started to feel a little bloatted out, so my mate suggested I go onto Vodka and Orange, which I did until 8 or so drinkies later,the landlady threw me out at around 1:30-ish(closing times are things that happen to other people in my local back home in Suffolk)for the crime of having run out of cash.

My mate Phil then says 'Hey, Micks having a party as his dad's away for the weekend'.

So off we wobble up the road.

When we got to this party the only thing left was BLue Nun.
One sip of it and I was on the front lawn puking my RING.
Thr resultant orange mound must have stood proudly six inches tall. The last thing I remember is my dad putting me to bed.

Fast forward to monday.
I bump into Mick in the street.
He gives me a glare and has been banned from holding parties EVER again.
Apparently despite Mick's valiant efforts to destroy the mound by pouring 3 buckets of water it had stood firm.
His dad probably wouldn't have minded the fact that there was an indestructible pile of chunder on his front lawn were it not for the fact that he'd trodden into it on his way in and sank up to his ankle in it.....

I didn't visit Mick at home again until he found his own place to live.
(, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 14:15, Reply)

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