Ever been so drunk....

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I got so drunk, I found another forum to waste my time on.:beer:

tabler said:

I got so drunk, I found another forum to waste my time on.:beer:

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I'll drink too that:headbang:

choppes said:

Ever been so drunk you didn't realize that comment was not directed at you tabler?

Sheesh....

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Ever been so drunk you didnt realize that you were an Arsehole?:flipthebi

choppes and VEF guys - classic :lol:

-KA- said:

choppes and VEF guys - classic :lol:

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Hey...I was a VEF guy, a vet...but then, well...I got drunk one night, and well...you know...

So now I'm an EXVEF...

But I have to say, my buddies came over to hang with me...tabs, scounds, 69mustang, TriggerGod, etc. And as a reborn NCF member, believe me...we're better off having them!

Of course, I'm not so sure about me...:crazy:

Besides...on VEF they were mods...but here, I can tell them to fuck off! Fuckin A!

Going back a long way now, but on the night after my final exams at college I went to a market town nearby where the pubs were open all day on market day (this was long before the law changed in the UK) and I did get somewhat tired and emotional. All was going fine until I got off the last train home and my "friends" decided that I was not strictly sober and needed to be carried back to Hall. I was sober enough to outrun them and lock myself in my room, and I thought I had had the last laugh, until I lay down...

I didn't even make it to the door of the room. :vomit:

By experiment I had proven that the physical law of the conservation of mass is a myth. What came out was vastly in excess of what went in.

That was about 1am. At 4am I was still cleaning the room: no way was I asking the cleaner to deal with that. Every so often, one of my night-owl fellow students strolled by and time after time, they commented:

"Scoundrel, mate, you look like shit."

It was true. In the bathroom mirrors I could see the reflection of an extra in a George Romero film. Yet here is something really weird: I felt wonderful. I was young and strong and as free as I've ever been in my life and life was bloody good.

This is a true story. One night in late June, 1976, my friend Carmine and me went to Greenwich Villiage in NYC. Late that night we found this little bar called the Red Witch. You had to step down three or four steps to enter. So we had a beer at the bar. The bartender was a Hell's Angel that used to put out cigarettes on his arm.

Anyway, I saw a sign over the bar that said "Flaming Suicide Honor Roll", with people's names and a number on it. So I asked, and the bartender said if I drank 7 Flaming Suicides I could get my name on the board. This was a drink that was a jigger (1 1/8 oz.) of vodka with some triple sec or schnapps mixed in. Then they lit it on fire, and you had to drink it on fire.

So, I drank 8 of them. I asked what the record was, and he said "50, it's mine". So I told him "I can take ya". He said fine, that I should be there next Friday night at 9.

So, by the next Friday, me, Carmine, and a couple of friends went back over the city. (I lived in Jersey). Anyway, I drank a few Colt 45's on the way over. We were late, and started wandering around the Village for a while.

Finally we remembered and went to the Red Witch, where we saw a sign in the window..."Flaming Suicide Championship, July 3rd., 9 PM, Brian blah blah vs. blah blah". I thought "holy shit...he was serious"! So we went in. The bartender was slightly perterbed. "You were supposed to be here at 9! The whole place was filled with people"! (College students from NYU).

I apologized, and asked if I could still do it, and he said yeah. So, we went for it. He lined them up by sevens, with beer on the side. I drank 32. That would be 36 ounces, over a quart, or around a liter. I felt fine, because vodka takes a while to creep up on you, but my friends were a little worried, it was pretty hot out. So they asked if I could take a break, to which he said ok, as long as when I was finished I could walk up the steps by myself.

So, we took a walk. On the next corner, I got a sausage and pepper sandwich, which probably wasn't the best thing to eat at a time like that. But we walked on, over to Bleeker Street. We walked up Bleeker for another block, and while we were crossing the street, I suddenly felt like somebody was pulling me back by the shoulder. I couldn't walk forward, but I managed to grab the lightpole and pull myself to the sidewalk.

Anyway, my friends wandered off for a while, (one of them got a blowjob in an alley). When they came back to get me, I was passed out on a black girl's lap on the hood of a car, as she cried..."get him some coffee"! Carmine brought his car up on Bleeker and double parked while they threw me in the back. I promptly locked the doors and nodded out, with the car running. Bleeker's a one way, so it backed up traffic for blocks, while they were banging on the car and kicking it. I finally unlocked the door. (Or so I was told).

I got third place in the championship, second place was 40, drank by a woman! Unfortunately, the Red Witch closed shortly afterwards. The next day after my performance, July 4th., 1976, was the American Bicentennial. By noon I was sitting on the Jersey Shore, watching Operation Sail, with all the ships sailing up the Hudson past NYC, while I drank Colt 45's.

Brianwp said:

One night in late June, 1976...

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DAYUM! You're as old as the trees. :surprised

-KA- said:

DAYUM! You're as old as the trees. :surprised

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Funny thing, it just seems to happen. You'll get there...if you're lucky.