Friend's house
Was handed a pretty vile brew of something like blackcurrant squash and red wine, which I downed like a trooper (may actually have sipped gingerly at it, finishing perhaps two-thirds of the glass before deciding that my innards would prefer me not to continue), accompanied by a hefty amount of lager, then staggered home an hour or so later.
By the time I got into bed I was already feeling considerably shaky, but I decided it was a case of mind over matter and I would CONQUER my errant guts.
That didn't work out.
However, instead of chundering into my bin, I hurled out of my window and down the wall, onto the porch roof. Treat for the neighbours. I was woken up by a fucking irate sister yelling at me to clean up the bathroom, which I must have reached at some point, and the porch roof as well.
Cue me, hungover, bleary and crusty-boxers clad, cleaning off the front of my house with a mop, flicking chunks into my face and trying not to add to my previous efforts.


Oh, and at Reading festival this year, I thew up Strongbow out of my nose then passed out on the last night
(SoneMe, Wed 13 Jan 2010, 20:57, Reply)