Like Japanese porn, but real
Not me, thank various deities, but my friend Steve.

We're at a big party at my ex-girlfriend's house in St John's Wood - which is an excellent place for amusement, but for her mum's collection of horrible, horrible fluffy white cats (called Turkish Vans, apparently, perhaps in the hope that someone will make them into a donner).

Steve's brought a Japanese girl called Sitomi to the party with him; they've met a few times through a mutual friend. She's perhaps expecting a less drunken evening - certainly she seems slightly peturbed when I meet up with Steve on the way, and head to the offie where we buy a crate of Kronenbourg each. Then again, she seems slightly peturbed all the time.

Now, Steve has an unfortunate drunken habit of drinking six or seven pints with no discernible effect on his personality, and then instantly shifting to helpless incoherent buffoon with the seventh or eighth. Sometimes we take bets on when this will occur. On this occasion, everyone was distracted... so it came as something as a surprise to all concerned when Steve unleashed a torrent of vomit - over the kitchen floor, over the terrible cats, over most of the people in the kitchen - but especially over Sitomi.

Naturally, we assumed she'd want to leave. Instead, being (we surmised) the dutiful Japanese type, she took Steve upstairs to get him cleaned up.

The next recorded sighting of the pair was half an hour later, with the still-sick-covered pair having surprisingly energetic sex on my ex's parents bed. For a while, I considered having my eyes removed to get rid of the image...

The horrible cats form a coda to the story. By the time we reached the stage of getting cloths and other sick-clearing devices, the cats had done a remarkably good job of disposing of the sick themselves. Unfortunately, Kronenbourg-flavoured sick isn't recommended as cat food. So as people passed out in various corners of the house, the cats took great delight in vomiting on and/or licking each one of them in turn.

Steve and Sitomi lasted a few months as a couple. They eventually broke up after he drunkenly phoned her number instead of the rail timetable phone line, and verbally abused her for not knowing the time of the next train to Wimbledon.

Apologies for frankly enormous length, breadth and girth.
(stalinism, Wed 25 Aug 2004, 21:03, Reply)