» Vomit Pt2

1st Year of Uni
You know the deal; this is the place where you truly discover alcohol. Obviously being raised in the British Isles and hailing from an Irish family alcohol is going to be consumed pretty soon after you get to 14/15 or so. So I was no stranger to the stuff, but I'd never messed with a certain Mr Jameson before, and oh boy was this going to be a MASSIVE fail.

I was a couple of months or so into the course, so me and my hall-mates had got to know each other a good deal over the previous weeks, and this night was a typical Friday like many previous ones before it. Myself and my mates on my floor (plus a few other faces) had gathered to the social hub that is the Student Halls Kitchen, ours being on the ground floor we were the obvious choice for the HQ so to speak. A bit of pre-drinking was in order before we marched off to "cheap Friday" at the union (so called due to £1 pints, but not many pints were touched this night, oh no) and being the adventurous type, I went for a bottle of whiskey at the local Sainsbury’s beforehand. Now being of an emerald shade of heritage as mentioned I decided to skip the scotch and go straight for the Irish (we invented whiskey by the way, not the Scots) to see what this drink was all about. I’d never had any whiskey before, just beer/cider/alcopops etc, standard stuff. But I underestimated the power of the Jameson’s this night (and many subsequently) and it was spectacular.

So we’re in the kitchen doing the usual, drinking, a bit of banter, some joking around etc. Now I clearly stated at the start of the evening when everyone saw my purchase that I was only going to go for about 1/3 of the bottle, what with the union itself I figured I'd be pretty fucked come kicking out time. So I proceeded to drink. Now my memory to this day is as blank as wayne rooney’s expression. Completely gone. But from video evidence and eyewitness accounts I can say I drank my 1/3 and we all left for the union. Now this evening I decided to heed my parents words “don’t mix your drinks”, so I didn’t. What I did do was order double Jameson’s every 15-30 minutes and quickly became more and more lamp-posted as time went on. I came home and, according to video footage I’ve seen, proceeded to down a full (probably 300ml) glass of straight whiskey. I did. I then rushed over to the sink and despite the cheers of my mates and various cheeky insults, I held it in. “Fucking sorted” I thinks and then went upstairs to fetch my bass guitar to serenade my companions for the evening.

Did I fuck.

What happened was I went upstairs and got my guitar and amp, wedged my door open with a chair for “easy” (you’ll see) access later, and went back to the kitchen to set it up. I then straight away walked too far, pulled the amp off the side, smashed it on the floor and snapped the cable. This pissed me right off so in my state I stumbled back upstairs and proceeded to kick my chair for a good 5 minutes, hoping it would miraculously shift and I’d be presented with an easy route into my room. No. My mate who video’d it had to come and shift it for me and then proceeded to put me to bed.

I wake up to Saigon circa 1975. My room is destroyed, my chair is in pieces everywhere and my phone is in a similar state. I looked up and found sick on the ceiling; I say again there was SICK, on the CEILING. What happened the previous night was I had been angry about the amp issue and had then gone into my room and destroyed 95% of its contents. The furniture, my work, my possessions from home were pretty much massacred, and to top it off there was sick on at least 5 of the 6 faces of the cube that was my room, one of which was the ceiling. That must have been some projectile considering I was laying down! Since then, every time I touch the stuff it ends similarly, short outbursts of violence with a big spew session afterwards.

Whiskey = evil

Apologies for length? That is a negative.
(Sat 9th Jan 2010, 1:12, More)

» Random Acts of Evil

Gary Numan
It's been ages since my last post, and I have just woken up after having a mostly non-sexual dream about a certain Mr Gary Numan. So it reminded me of this:

A few years ago there was this pub in the sprawling metropolis of Reading called Pavlovs Dog. (It still exists it's just degraded more than the surrounding establishments so my friends and I have since moved on). Now this establishment was (and still is as far as I know) frequented by a rather studenty clientele, which I have no problem with having been one up to a few years back.

But this was different.

You see, students are meant to (in most cases) be relied upon for a decent taste in music, but this was not the case here, and as this pub had one of those touchscreen jukeboxes with all the "latest (s)hits" it meant Black Eyed Peas and Rihanna & all that modern toss was played continuously. We didn't like this, but it was the only place to go at the time for us, so we had no choice. Occasionally we'd put a few quid in and choose some Bowie or Led Zeppelin but it would usually take 3 hours or so until they played, by which time we'd be too busy trying to successfully remain standing.

But one day we'd had enough. We arrived at our usual time around 9 and banded together a whole pound sterling for an almighty 7 plays in the jukebox (pre-recession times people). We locked and loaded and then sat in to wait until our choices were made. Now usually we'd be looking around in despair everytime another generic top 40 song fell out of the speakers like a loose shit. But this time we enjoyed our anticipation as we knew what was coming.

Sure enough about an hour and a half in we heard the opening drum roll to "Cars" by the man himself, Gary Numan. Most of the patrons were genuinely bemused but we spotted a couple of veterans with approving grins to themselves nodding away slowly. Then it played again. And again. 7 times to be precise, and each time people got more and more desperate looking up at the TV where the music video was going "Why Gary, why?" (probably) which is how our group felt every other song, so it was a nice little comeuppance.

We never did get found out.

Apologies for length but I make no such apologies for the song choice, Gary Numan is a gent.
(Thu 23rd Feb 2012, 11:46, More)

» Vomit Pt2

On the N207
The good old night bus.

Me and my flatmates from Uni decided to head into London for a night out, what followed was a pretty decent one too - I even managed to have a fair few Jamesons without the inevitable sickness (can't say the same about the violent outbursts but that's another story for another time). The place was called On Anon and as far as I know it still is. Look it up it's in central London.

So my good mate Nick was destroyed as per usual and proceeded to be kicked out onto the street, namely the massive Piccadilly Circus street. Now being the supportive mates we were at the time we promptly told him to stay out the front, try not to get raped and we'd see him at closing. Which we did.

Being Nick he'd gone straight to one of the hot dog stands that line this stretch of pavement and not having enough money, he'd bartered a bit of bread with mustard on. Then lost his wallet for the 3rd time that year (he's currently on 9 I think the total score is). Come 2ish me and the boys headed out to find him and trek the street or 2 to find the night bus. We found him anyway, covered from knee to toe in mustard (god knows how a hot dog could have so much of the yellow stuff on it) and got the bus.

We headed straight upstairs and were shortly joined by a rowdy bird who wouldn't shut up (just as our headaches were nicely settling in) and her 2 mates who seemed decent enough. Now all this time the focus was on Nick and making sure we didn't lose him and he wasn't sick on himself (or us) but from nowhere, my mate Tom let loose a river of sick that took on its own currents and tides every set of traffic lights and roundabout!

This set the girl off even more but what she didn't realise was that the sick was slowly closing in on her and shortly she was surrounded (think Admiral Ackbar "it's a trap!" it was that stealthy). Needless to say we were lauging like fuck for the next 2 hours watching her struggle to keep away from this river of bile that seemed to follow her for the rest of the journey, classic.
(Sat 9th Jan 2010, 16:26, More)

» Amazing displays of ignorance

In school in year 6
So I was about 10 or 11, there was this really dim and rather obese girl in the year below. One friday the year 5's were told to go into our class for the afternoon to learn about measurements. We got round to the water measurements and the girl was sat infront of me, who was quite bored not being able to see anything other than fat girl so I thought I'd liven up the afternoon. The question was "what do 1000 millilitres make?" a: a litre. But the girl didn't know so I leaned forward and helpfully whispered the answer. She relayed my answer to the class with great pride: "one water!".

Much laughing ensued
(Sun 21st Mar 2010, 2:07, More)

» Vomit Pt2

Oh yes! I almost forgot this one...
I was on a normal night at my local and there was a group of quite rowdy lads obviously gearing up for a big night out somewhere else (you can't have a big night out where I live, it's called Crowthorne, look it up).

One of these upstanding young gents then decides he needs to be sick but that physics didn't apply to him and thought he could hide it by simply covering his mouth with his hand - cue an epic projectile into the CEILING of the pub! A good 3-4 feet above the young mans mouth.

What happened was that his hand formed a "mirror" if you like, and his sick simply "reflected" off this surface onto the ceiling!
(Sat 9th Jan 2010, 1:27, More)