Writers are usually the biggest drinkers.

Those writers drink to be clever, whereas I think I am clever and don't want to lose it to drink.

Sir S

i'll get drunk once im famous

@ Taw, I'd like to hear that story.

I've never been out of control drunk. I'm constantly in control. One of my greatest flaws.

But I do have a story about my friend, Lemay.

Me and two of my friends went from the West Island to the East End to my friends school for a party.

It was an ok party despite the rain. My friend Lemay had a Canada (13 shots of Goldslauger + one because it was the first of the night)

Lemay took those shots and took them quick. About 5 min after, my friends and I had to leave as we were dependant on public transportation.

Lemay was in the middle of the party and my friends were on the outskirts waiting to leave. I told him we were going and had to come say good-bye.

At this point, he was clinging to a poll for support. He told me, "Are you crazy man, I can't walk!!" so he held on to me as we walked to my friends.

He bid me and my friends goodbye.

From what I heard, He was dragged though his school by a few of his friends and woke up 12 hours later having no reclection of what happened. I think he said he was in one of his friends houses. He now hates the taste of cinimon.

Life: No one gets out alive.

I drink, therfore I am.
Or was it...Nah, something like that anyway

well RILMS it goes something like this (some of the details are still a bit hazy so i might skip an odd bit)

I was staying in a hotel in Kensington in about 84 (Ramada Renaissance, cr*p hotel) and had been chucked out of the bar cos I was too p*st. I'd hammered the mini-bar and drunk everything that was worth drinking. time was getting on, it was about 10pm, so i went out and got some Sc and beers from an offy nearby and went back to watch hard-core while getting shedded. i got more shedded than I anticipated and ended up in the bath trying to have a shower and boke me guts up at the same time (never touched SC since)

some time later, not sure how long, went down to the lobby to get some grub, couldn't find any grub, had an argument with some foreign types and got told to go back to me room by security, on the way up in the lift I got talking to this woman, very nice, big 80s hair, def foreign, she asks me if i'm on me own, why am i so drunk, whats me rroom number, she'll be along later. yeh right I think, i'm so p*st i want to die anyway.

gets to my room, i crash out, shortly after there's a knock on the door and there she is, looking like a million dollars (i think) she comes in, we have a brief chat, turns out she greek and an air hostess, then well you can probably guess (crackin figure) then after a couple of hours there's another knock at the door, i think it's security but she says it's her friend (friend????) it's another lovely greek air hostess! wow, this isn't happening! i thought. The first one looked like Dana, the second like Sheena Easton, well thats what i thought anyway.

After a couple of hours of bouncy fun, they say "come with us honey," bear in mind I'm still hammered, we all get into a taxi, go on this insane trip to Heathrow, they get me a boarding pass and we get on their plane, do more nasties in first class (don't worry its empty, going back home due to some problem or other, can't remember what) eventually as per usual i fall asleep as i always do on planes. i woke up in the morning on a bench in the arrivals lounge at Athens airport, wearing these booze and perfume soaked clothes, me wallets back in london, i had about a fiver on me, stonging headache and hangover, i felt like something had died in me mouth and guts, me face was covered in blood (no idea how, well actually i do but i shudder to think) and no means of getting back home. btw i don't speak greek apart from parakolo and efkaristo. I did remeber they said they worked for Olympicair so I went to the desk and asked if they knew a Lydia and whatever the other one was called, and they said they had no idea what i was talking about.

Eventually i was able to skank a phone call to England and get me dad to pay for a ticket home, which of course i had to pay back with interest.

LOL.

---

The first one looked like Dana, the second like Sheena Easton, well thats what i thought anyway

---

I have this mental image of you dressed in a miami vice white suit (with sleeves rolled up of course), big "flock of seagulls" hair piece and Lionel Ritchie on the radio.....nice

Dude....the blood? Please just tell me that the painters where in and it wasn't something slightly more gangland-like....?!!

skinhead, black drainpipes and docs and a Southern Death Cult t-shirt, and yes the painters were in disgraceful isn't it?

Edited by - Tawakalna on 1/8/2004 6:38:20 AM

lol. now thats a photo I'd like to see

@Taw: just out of curiosity: were you married already back then?
Okay, one of the more interesting "adventures" when drinking (I don't remember anything, my friend told me ):
So, I was drinking at work (after the working hours, but in the office). A colleague of mine had an original German Wehrmacht cup which I wanted to purchase, and, as we both liked booze, we decided that the negotiations should take place in the presence of "liquid currency". After a bottle of vodka we felt what we call "a hook", i.e. a desperate need for more. Since the only drink we had was liqueur, we decided to add vodka, thus getting another two bottles. In the effect a friend of mine (he's working in a homicide dept.) called, so we invited him to join us. After another bottle of vodka there was nothing left but ca. 0.3 l of moonshine. We finished that alright. Then we decided to smoke. As we were walking into the room for smoking, there appeared my boss. She's an old maid and veeery mean. The accusation was that we're not only drunk but were going to pee into the sink (as we found out later, this did take place, but had nothing to do with us - there was another party going on in the same building). So my buddy, totally, drunk, took out his badge and proudly announced that he was here to investigate the case. My boss, unfortunately, did not believe it, and got pi**ed of as hell.
The bad thing about it was that I she had a serious talk to me the day after (though I felt so bad I didn't care much) about drinking at work and bringing over drunk cops () and didn't speak to me for several days (which is for the better ).
The good thing is that we had a good laugh at it when trying to remember the events and, the best thing is that I finally got the cup for free!


"Beer is proof that god loves us and wants us to be happy" - Benjamin Franklin

no it was quite a few years before I met either of my wives. in fact i didn't even have a girlfriend at the time

aaah now I wish I had an interesting story about drunken cops and air stewardesses....alas...I think I need to get out more

I went to a stag weekend last year, the first night has now gone down in history as being my most drunken night. Here's what I recollect....

The stag night was in blackpool (NW England for our US friends), I live in Kent (SE England) and we were all meeting up first at the Best Man's house in Manchester (Central North England). Ok, so now we've sorted locations here's what happened. I travelled to Manchester from London with a good friend of mine, and along the way picked up one of the Groom's workmates. No sooner had the workmate got into the car, he'd sparked up an enormous joint. Now...me being me and physically being unable to refuse a smoke, I partaked. But we got stuck in traffic, so the journey began to take much longer than it should have - 5 hours in fact. Which gave our new stonehead friend plenty of time to keep rolling them up....and for me to partake a little more. Cutting a long story short, by the time we hit manchester I was absolutely trashed - and it was only 5pm.

I know this so far must sound like a smoking story, but trust me its not. Many of you will know that Grass and Alcohol truly do not mix. I knew this as I've been stung several times in the past, but because of the length of the journey, I stupidly smoked anyway....oh dear...

So we arrive in Manchester and discover everyone had been there an hour and was waiting for us. Our punishment, laid out by the best man, was to "play catch-up". In the last hour the guys in the room had managed to put away a respectable 4 cans of lager each....so we were given 2 minutes to do exactly the same thing. Now, still considering that we had another 2 hour sobering journey to blackpool ahead of us, I thought "why the hell not" and promptly downed the lot. Oh how wrong was i.

2 minutes later we're climbing onto the minibus...the best man turns around in the drivers seat and lifts a blanket of what I thought was a large box. He then announces "Gentlemen, what we have here is 4 crates of lager, 3 crates of cider, 2 bottles of port, 2 bottles of Glenfiddich, 1 bottle of Vodka and a £200 bottle of Single Malt Whiskey - that one's for the groom. The rest of you have 2 hours to finish the lot. Begin". So, stupidly, the 9 of us did.

I remember nothing else.

However, this is what actually happened according to my best mate....

We turned up 2 hours late and downed a few cans to catch up. We shotgunned all of the cans in the first hour, then stopped on a motorway embankment to take a leak. This is apparently where the groom decided to take off all of his clothes and run across the motorway and then back again singing "doowah diddy". We then passed all of the spirits around taking large swigs from the bottles until they were all empty. This took another half hour. Then I needed a leak (I have no bladder control once the seal has been broken )....but the best man thought it would be funny to refuse to stop - and told me to do it out of the window. So in desperation I did....and with a little help from the 60mph wind that was flying by the window managed to piss on three of the guys in the bus. (shame I can't remember that )

So then we arrived in blackpool, dropped our stuff off at the B&B and staggered to the nearest pub. This is were I started the fight....which is totally unlike me may I add. Apparently I walked in, walked up to a pool table (where oblivious to me some locals were in the closing frame of a very important competition) and promptly started messing up the balls with my hands. This is when the only sober person in our group, the best man, whipped out his cheque book and payed every person in the pub £20 each to stop them kicking the living **** out of me there and then.

Thats as much as my friends remembered, as most of them were in the same state as me....but needless to say I woke up the next morning, fully clothed, crouching on top of my bed with my head in my hands (apparently I slept like that) with a bill for £640 in front of me courtesy of the best man.

And that my friends was the most drunken night of my life - and my only saving grace is that I don't remember a damn thing about it.

haw haw haw! and i bet you stank of p*ss too!

yeah I was a bit ripe...but not as much as the three guys I'd p*ssed on lol