Your worst Hangover!

[cupid_stunt]

Yep HS,

you'll know it's me at the next EDF drink up as i'll be conspicuously sipping my over-priced orange and cranberry mix.

[daizie]

cupid_stunt you sound great! :)

[cupid_stunt]

Daizie, not sure my ex would agree entirely with you but in my defence, i have my moments... :)

[Brendan]

The Fear is one thing and you can but pray that it is only paranoia because when you have a sudden attack of memory and the revelation of your true sins worms its way through the seething mass of your aching mind, so begins, the Horror.

[bigbadwolf]

Jah Lush Wrote:

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

> After being on a constant five-day bender for 12

> years my pancreas exploded and I spent a couple of

> weeks in hospital with acute pancreatitus. I had

> eight attacks all in all between 28 and 35. Now

> that's a fecking hangover sonny.

Point taken.

[flapjackdavey]

probably when I was 17 , first party I went to , I was so shy that I spent most of the evening in the kitchen helping myself to a bit of everything ... I was as sick as a pig , someone had to walk me to the end of my road . I don't know how I managed to get home and put myself to bed , I had to convince my dad everything was ok ... he was sitting up waiting for me amd watching the snooker .... " hello Son , good party ? " .... " Yesh dadI'm goontoobedg'night" ... I must have reeked I had been puking neat cinzano on the way home .... got up for breakfast next day ( sunday ) .... the sight of my boiled egg and soldiers made me reach .... dash to the bog , throw up ..... back to bed for the day ... still felt shit in sixth form next dsy ...

[PinkyB]

It would be the time I attempted to throw a party in my first term of university,to which precisely eight people turned up. The highlight of the "party" itself would have been two girls wrapping a bloke in toilet roll for a laugh - that's how dull my party was. After this I attempted to drown myself in the sink in shame, and then decided to leave my own party early because it was so bad.

I then attempted to get into the back of a Mini with a strange man who was about to drive all the way to Cornwall (I lived in Leicester at the time), spent an hour in the kids playpark on the roundabout (advice to everyone: don't combine alcohol and roundabouts), and staggered home at the fine late hour of only half past eleven to find the house deserted, the door wide open, my front room full of loo paper and peanuts and a strange girl asleep on the sofa.

The following morning (or possibly afternoon) I awoke (or maybe I didn't), crawled up the stairs on my hands and knees to the bathroom because things were spinning so bad I couldn't lift my head off the carpet, threw up, and crawled back to bed again. I then hallucinated that the neighbours had complained about the noise (well, to be fair, the Dead Kennedys aren't exactly easy listening) and the one broken bottle of Kiwi fruit 20/20 that someone had left in the gutter, that a witch-hunt had been formed to report me to the landlord, and that I'd been evicted and all my belongings thrown out in the street. I woke up absolutely convinced that this had genuinely happened, weeping, hysterical, unable to move my head, and in a bedful of sick.

I haven't had a party since. Or touched Kiwi Fuit 20/20.

I've had other hangovers, of course, but nothing has ever come close to this, mainly because usually when you have a hangover, you at least know that you had a good time first. Sadly, in this case, I can't even say that.

[brum]

Tragic story PinkyB. I celebrated my 21st whilst a student at Leicester Poly. I don't remember a thing after I took the first gulp from a pint of micky-fin topped up with blackcurrant, bought for me by my course-mates. Apparently, I stood on a bar table singing 'get-em down you zulu warrior' and dropping my trousers, only for the barman to squirt my todger with a soda syphon (he must have been a very good shot). I then went on a one-man rampage through the city streets, removing clothing as I went. By the time I arrived at the Halls, I was dressed in just one training shoe and nothing else.

The first I remember is waking the next day with a hammer drill pounding in my head, and my room and everything in it sprayed with a strange, blackcurrant-like substance. I was so scared by the thought I could have choked to death in my sleep, I swore never to add blackcurrant to my drinks ever again.

[PinkyB]

Oh, God, cider and black! It's the devil's own concoction!

I was also at Leicester Poly, although the first year it changed its name and tried to pretend it was a proper university. Perhaps there's something in the water in the Midlands?

I also distinctly remember a cocktail bar called Gaudi's on the ring road that only let you in if you were a student or a nurse, and seemed to have a permanent happy hour. I remember once drinking four Long Island Iced Teas, going to the loo, throwing up, and then coming back out again and immediately ordering another four, because happy hour was about to end.

Leicester was also where I learned that it's better to stick your fingers down your throat as soon as you get home and at least get a decent night's sleep afterwards, than wake up two hours later and projectile vomit on your shoes.

I didn't learn much else there, it has to be said. And even happier, twelve years later, I'm still paying off my student loan! Thanks to the Tory Government for bringing in that one. That's basically a twelve year long hangover, I suppose.