» It was a great holiday, but...

Canadians just don't trust foreigners.
While I was visiting in Canada last year I was writing for this crappy website and had set up an interview and live review for the band Nashville Pussy. I got there and had my passport (no drivers licence and therefore only form of ID) with me to get in thinking that would be enough. I got to the ticket guy and tell him "we're on the list". He finds our names and asks for my ID to which I bring out my passport. He looks at it and says "and the other one?" I ask "what other one?". Apparently you need 2 forms of ID to get in anywhere where theres alcohol. "This is a passport. I got into the country, through immigration, through border checks with this, but I can't get into this club?"
"nope."
So I go outside and I spot some policemen carting off some drunken offenders and stroll up to them, explain my situation and ask if theres anything they can do to help. One of them has a look at my passport asks me to raise my right hand and put my left over my heart and "repeat after me".
After I went through the whole "I will uphold the laws of this country" etc, etc the 2 policemen then escort me into the club. I was treated very well but with some contempt by the patrons.
(Sun 24th Apr 2005, 17:29, More)

» Embarrassing Injuries

too many to mention


I am famous to my friends for my spectacular falls and scrapes. Amazingly I have never actually broken anything, the closest I got was a dislocated shoulder which I tried oh so manly-like to fix myself. I had been very very drunk and ran full pelt over a busy intersection. My friend was running with me and being just as drunk as I was he ran right in front of me. I managed an excellent somersault and landed on my shoulder. The next day gravity had decided to pound itself into my shoulder to the extent that I could hardly get out of bed or get dressed. A half bottle of whiskey later and I was ramming my poor beaten arm into the wall and screaming "Just like Indiana Jones!" I still haven't had it fixed so I must have managed to put some of the bone back in. I hope.
(Sat 4th Sep 2004, 13:47, More)

» Teenage Parties

Of many ...
My mother had buggered off to Amsterdam and had left with many worried looks and general "Please don't have a party while I'm away. I'm trusting you this time" etc... I had already arranged the party the week I found out she was going. I mean, she gets to go to the Dam and I don't? Pfft. So theres DJs and lots of people coming. I've heard little bits here and there about gatecrashing but think nothing of it as it's fairly expected.
On the night: Doorbell rings, so I go to the door and find no less than 30 chavs and assorted Raggas. I know some of them and plead with them not to come in. To no avail. Fuck it, I think, there really was nothing I could do.
Roster of damage:
One broken door from my having to kick it down because flower-pot bombs were going off the side of my balcony and into the street, once the door is down I find 10 chavs beating off to my stepfathers 70s B-porn.
My stereo goes out the window also.
the Pizza the DJs had ordered finally comes and the pizza man is greeted by howling boys who grab all his pizza, steal his bike and beat the crap out of him. Later a friend on her way to the party reports seeing a 15/16 year old dressed up in Dominoes Pizza outfit, covered in blood and crying.
someone drinks all my mums' white wine vinegar and throws up all over the hall.
Someone pissed all ver my bed, thankfully I passed out in the living room (woke up unscathed thank fuck). Others not so lucky.
I managed to clean everything up before my mum got home. Mother never knew a thing. Friends can be very helpful when you tell them you've just found a huge bag of coke under a mountain of beer cans... "I bet theres more... Help me look".

A week later my mother knocked on my bedroom door, walked in holding a sock filled with snooker balls (much harder than a koch.. you dig?). "Hmm... Do you know anything about this? I just found it under my bed."
"Um...."
(Wed 19th Apr 2006, 15:18, More)