Let's just say...
Mar. 1st, 2004 09:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trinityvixenThat the answer to this quiz:
What Kind of Drunk Are You?
You are a Chunder Monkey!
"I can handle it, honest. No, I've had this much to drink before and been fine, dandy. Hang on ... No, I'm all right. Don't worry about it. I don't throw up when I'm drunk." Cue technicolor yawn, chunky pastel efluvia being expelled in rhythmic croaks and gushes.
Vomit your way across the Web with the following chunky emblem:
is just a little too close to the truth after Saturday....
Right, so Ken, BSD, Q, Michelle, Ben, and I waited for about an hour or so to go do karaoke at village karaoke. There was cheap-ass rum that, as Dave put it, "went down like silk and tasted like ass." It was both these things, which made me quote the Merovingian from Matrix Reloaded. Then there was cider, and I had a bottle of that with a bit of Mike's on the side. We got to our karaoke booth, I sang "Going Under" with Michelle, only she sang good, and I sang like crap. I did better with "Seven Nation Army" and "I Disappear," Michelle had a nice one with "All that Jazz" and Dave and Ken had something from That 70s Show's opener that I liked, as well as their rendition of No Sleep Till Brooklyn. Ben and Q, I apologize, but what with all the insanity, I don't remember what you guys sang, except I think I looked up Madonna and Britney for Q.
Right, so, when the night was over, I think we determined I swilled about 13-14 standard drinks worth of alcohol in about, I'd say, no more than two hours. As usual, when I get plastered, I remember nothing. I remember singing "I Disappear" and swilling the shitty rum like a mo-fo, and I may or may not recall having Grey Goose, too, but, unless it was at a later time than Metallica, which I don't think it was, I really don't remember anything of what happened up until the point I woke up on Dave's floor the next morning, more or less fine.
What I don't remember has been filled in for me: I tried to make out with Michelle and Q but only succeeded in biting them or something and unsuccessfully trying to put my hands down their pants. I also screeched a few times and then passed out, in a manner my friends suggested was 'orgasmic' (if I knew it was that easy to get off, I'd be drunk every night of the week folks, so that's why I doubt it), especially as I was humping my friend's leg at the time or something. I'm a bit hazy on the chronology of events, but I think it was passing out--->waking to say "I need a toilet"-->being dragged to said toilet and dropped so I hit my head (doesn't bother me except it's a bit sore around my eye)--->vomiting all over the bathroom and Michelle's arm--->dead passed out and dragged upstairs with my pants partially unbuttoned (my own doing) and my bra unlatched (my doing again, I think)--->being carried upstairs got my shirt bunched up--->ended the night with flashing most of the people coming in/going out of the karaoke place and the staff. Sole consolation afforded was that the staff was slightly more concerned with presence of large group smoking pot (which is illegal as opposed to alcohol poisoning which is my fault).
Right, that's about it. Oh, wait, Michelle said when we got to Dave's (after a more expensive cab ride due to puke risk), she stayed up to be sure I didn't die of alcohol poisoning, and that at some point I used the toilet and kicked her coming back into the room. That explains why, though I have no memory of being brought to Dave's, I wasn't worried about where I was. Also, I really lose time when I get totally smashed, so I could just as easily attribute it to thinking that no time at all had passed. Brunch followed and I went clothes shopping, which is sooooooo much fun after a night of debauchery, let me tell you. I kept myself to three things, vowing to lose weight before semester end. Without all my outdoorsy activites and hiking around Melbourne streets, I've put on a lot of weight (booze doesn't help either), so I'm determined to eat and act better. More steps, fewer elevators, etc.
And no more repeat performances of Saturday night. That's my new goal, my new promise to myself. If people want to karaoke again, I'm up for it, but I'm bringing food, mixer materials, and alternating drinks. That's my new policy. I owe a big thanks and one hell of an apology to folks for Saturday. You guys are great for helping me out, and even though I don't remember any of it, I really do appreciate what the folks involved did. Muchos gracias.
What Kind of Drunk Are You?
You are a Chunder Monkey!
"I can handle it, honest. No, I've had this much to drink before and been fine, dandy. Hang on ... No, I'm all right. Don't worry about it. I don't throw up when I'm drunk." Cue technicolor yawn, chunky pastel efluvia being expelled in rhythmic croaks and gushes.
Vomit your way across the Web with the following chunky emblem:
is just a little too close to the truth after Saturday....
Right, so Ken, BSD, Q, Michelle, Ben, and I waited for about an hour or so to go do karaoke at village karaoke. There was cheap-ass rum that, as Dave put it, "went down like silk and tasted like ass." It was both these things, which made me quote the Merovingian from Matrix Reloaded. Then there was cider, and I had a bottle of that with a bit of Mike's on the side. We got to our karaoke booth, I sang "Going Under" with Michelle, only she sang good, and I sang like crap. I did better with "Seven Nation Army" and "I Disappear," Michelle had a nice one with "All that Jazz" and Dave and Ken had something from That 70s Show's opener that I liked, as well as their rendition of No Sleep Till Brooklyn. Ben and Q, I apologize, but what with all the insanity, I don't remember what you guys sang, except I think I looked up Madonna and Britney for Q.
Right, so, when the night was over, I think we determined I swilled about 13-14 standard drinks worth of alcohol in about, I'd say, no more than two hours. As usual, when I get plastered, I remember nothing. I remember singing "I Disappear" and swilling the shitty rum like a mo-fo, and I may or may not recall having Grey Goose, too, but, unless it was at a later time than Metallica, which I don't think it was, I really don't remember anything of what happened up until the point I woke up on Dave's floor the next morning, more or less fine.
What I don't remember has been filled in for me: I tried to make out with Michelle and Q but only succeeded in biting them or something and unsuccessfully trying to put my hands down their pants. I also screeched a few times and then passed out, in a manner my friends suggested was 'orgasmic' (if I knew it was that easy to get off, I'd be drunk every night of the week folks, so that's why I doubt it), especially as I was humping my friend's leg at the time or something. I'm a bit hazy on the chronology of events, but I think it was passing out--->waking to say "I need a toilet"-->being dragged to said toilet and dropped so I hit my head (doesn't bother me except it's a bit sore around my eye)--->vomiting all over the bathroom and Michelle's arm--->dead passed out and dragged upstairs with my pants partially unbuttoned (my own doing) and my bra unlatched (my doing again, I think)--->being carried upstairs got my shirt bunched up--->ended the night with flashing most of the people coming in/going out of the karaoke place and the staff. Sole consolation afforded was that the staff was slightly more concerned with presence of large group smoking pot (which is illegal as opposed to alcohol poisoning which is my fault).
Right, that's about it. Oh, wait, Michelle said when we got to Dave's (after a more expensive cab ride due to puke risk), she stayed up to be sure I didn't die of alcohol poisoning, and that at some point I used the toilet and kicked her coming back into the room. That explains why, though I have no memory of being brought to Dave's, I wasn't worried about where I was. Also, I really lose time when I get totally smashed, so I could just as easily attribute it to thinking that no time at all had passed. Brunch followed and I went clothes shopping, which is sooooooo much fun after a night of debauchery, let me tell you. I kept myself to three things, vowing to lose weight before semester end. Without all my outdoorsy activites and hiking around Melbourne streets, I've put on a lot of weight (booze doesn't help either), so I'm determined to eat and act better. More steps, fewer elevators, etc.
And no more repeat performances of Saturday night. That's my new goal, my new promise to myself. If people want to karaoke again, I'm up for it, but I'm bringing food, mixer materials, and alternating drinks. That's my new policy. I owe a big thanks and one hell of an apology to folks for Saturday. You guys are great for helping me out, and even though I don't remember any of it, I really do appreciate what the folks involved did. Muchos gracias.
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no subject
Date: 2004-03-01 07:32 pm (UTC)I think I should have started my response with "we're all going to my place".
no subject
Date: 2004-03-01 07:43 pm (UTC)If nothing else it'll all make for interesting future games of I Never...
no subject
Date: 2004-03-01 08:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-02 06:28 am (UTC)Oh and I'll say for the record, "D you don't need to lose weight". If you really feel the need to do more though, try walking more than you take the bus or subway to things. I takes a little longer (unless you walk about the same pace as me) but it keeps the heartrate up.
no subject
Date: 2004-03-02 08:19 am (UTC)Second, be thankful that at least you were smart enough to get this trashed with friends around you.
Third, be grateful you're not a mean drunk like I used to be. Waking up with someone else's blood on your clothes is NEVER pleasent.
Finally, it was all worth it to hear you whisper in my ear (as I was lifting you from the left) "Could you bring me a toilet?" giving me enough time to tip you so you "chundered" onto the street rather than me.