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Oh help


Work Christmas party last night. Lost bag. Husband found one of my shoes in the recycling bin this morning. Cannot remember how I got home. Money was in lost bag but mysteriously found five pound note in coat pocket. Think someone must have put me in a taxi and lent me fare but have no idea who that person might be.


Please advise.

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The power of the homing monkey should never be underestimated, you made it home and that's the most important thing.


You'll have a bad day of the Type 1 Fear today, that awful not knowing, what on earth happened fear. Don't worry people don't do things they wouldn't when they're drunk, they just do the usual stuff badly and loudly.


Tomorrow you'll have Type 2 Fear, that insidious and unsettling awareness of your own mortality, but that too will pass.


Keep your head down but your chin up!!!

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hoipolloi Wrote:

-------------------------------------------------------

> thank you for the kind words. I completely have

> The Fear. I know I should just brazen it out but

> feel compelled to try and piece together events. I

> know that's a bad idea. WHY WHY WHY?


H, of course knowing it's a bad idea, doesn't stop you from doing it, just as knowing it's not a great idea to go out and get trashed will not stop you from repeating it. I burn with empathy.

It's all part of the human condition.

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better than my missus who used to phone up regularly, tearfully, having been thrown out of the cab halfway home.


Surely your missus has never been asked to leave a cab, she's so sweet to cab drivers when she's drunk! ;-)


hoipolloi, could the person who told you about the cabs not fill in some of the other gaps, and did they know what had happened to your bag?


As Piers has said, you got home, you still had all your clothes on (except your shoe, that is a great touch by the way!), and you're safe. I'd leave it there... Like I say, hair of the dog usually helps :)-D

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I put forward a friend of mine for a job at a previous company. After the interview the boss asked if he wanted to hang around as we were all going out for a drink.


We got pretty trashed and he started chatting a random girl up in a naff city bar. Their conversation got on to what people would and wouldn't dare do, resulting in his standing on a table with his trousers & pants round his ankles screaming "WAHEYYYY".


He won his ?20 off the girl, ended up back at hers (after being thrown out of the bar) and still got the job, so you never know, things might actually work out for the better!!


ps he'd be utterly mortified if he knew I'd told this story, he's a very sensible father of 3 these days.

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I went to a school reunion...which was also a charity quiz for a dear friend.


My favourite moment was returning to the school hall where Liz had just asked a question - I stood swaying in the doorway and announced Plato to the entire room in my most theatrical voice.

I was later seen both high-kicking and putting my fist in my mouth literally... but my finest hour was when I spied the wall bars and decided to ascend to the top.


I later got refused entry to Weatherspoons in Cricklewood.


Cracking night.

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Indeed BB, a fine job!


When I started training for my job, we all went out on the first night. I was the youngest of the group at 23/24, the rest ranged from 27 - 55. Anyway, we all went out and got pretty ratted. I came back to my room and put some music on (at about 2am), I then phoned my ex who I'd left behind in Liverpool for the usual drunken nonsense phonecall.


A couple of minutes later, the door went, and there in front of me was a middle aged Scottish man. "Are you going to turn that music off and let us sleep?" he asked in a raised voice.


"F**k off" was my reply, before closing the door in his face.


It was the next day that I discovered he was the director of the whole organisation, and that he'd suggested I be removed from the course... Kept my head down for a few days after that.

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hoipolloi


I feel your pain, over many years of regret and shame I have managed on various occasions to: persuade a senior partner to sit on a space hopper I'd purchsed as a secret santa present, he bounced once, fell off and cracked his head against a chair. I've accidentally set myself on fire whilst attempting to look suave (I was leaning against a window, a candle was on the windowsill, my shoulder went up in flames. I didn't notice, a kindly soul put it out).


The only comfort is knowing there is normally someone worse behaved than you, and to this day I thank my lucky stars I was not involved several years ago in an unfortunate party popper filled with chocolate cake incident which resulted in several thousands pounds worth of specialist cleaning work to a grade 2 listed ceiling.


That said I no longer go to work Christmans parties.


Chin up.

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My worst was throwing up at (not quite on) the feet of the senior partner of the major CA firm I worked for at the work Christmas party. I knew I wasn't feeling well, was trying to make a dash for the loos, he got in my way and started trying to make polite chit chat. Not good. Worse thing was we were only about 2 hours into the party - dinner hadn't even been served and I had to go home! :-$


My excuse... I'd had gladular fever, had been cleared about a week before the party, hadn't drunk alcohol for about 6 months beforehand, and was the only person at the table drinking red wine - not a good combination.


That was in NZ. I moved to the UK the following year to escape the daily humiliation of having to face him in the office!


Met Mr Pickle at a work function here in the UK where once again I seemed to be the drunkest in the room at early o'clock. Declared him to be "the most handsome man in finance" in front of most of the finance department that I worked for. All this done with my then boyfriend standing behind me watching on. I have never lived it down - yet he still married me!

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One timeI'd been on a particularly heavy leo sayer that may have involved the odd naughty substance and toward the end of the night i noticed I was completely alone in the pub. I wandered behind the bar helped myself to a couple of shots and topped up my pint before wandering outside to realise that half the area had turned up for a good old rumble in the pub carpark.


The bar owner was taking a baseball bat to a someone in front of me, but I was far too battered (figuratively speaking) for any of this to seem real. I wandered through the middle of this huge set-to like a floating apparition nodding my hellos to bemused looking people mid punch, ending up sitting on the back end of a black maria doing what I thought was a great job of chatting up a cute young lady police officer with my pint still in hand.


She politely rebuffed my advances and suggested I go home, despite my doubtless dazzling repartee. My flat mates found me fast asleep in the communal stairwell 2 floors down from our apartment and had to carry me to bed. I didn't venture outside for about 2 days after that one and considered myself fortunate not to have woken up in the cells.

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Oh god, bad christmas do's!!


The black tie one where I ended up snogging 4 women including the girl I brought with me and the girlfriend of a colleague that he brought, as well as 2 other colleagues, and have vague memories of the Chief Exec saying 'See you bright and early tomorrow' as I stumbled out, missing all the buttons from my wide open, red-wine-stained shirt, into the night.


Not my proudest moment and worst case of Type 1 Fear next day I can recall, but very funny looking back on it.

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