Why I should never drink alcohol, Part 453.
God. Damn.
After two pints, I was pleasantly tipsy, but felt compelled to top myself up with approximately three hundred litres of vodka directly afterwards. Jesus. After the first two hours, the rest of the night was a blur and a half and my memory is suffering from more black spots than a teenager's face, mid-puberty, post-chocolate binge.
Things that I do remember:
Oh, wait. Sorry. To top THIS off, I was awoken the next morning by my mobile phone alarm. I started picking it up and slamming it around, frantically trying to hit the button to shut the son of a bitch up, before I was conscious enough to realise that it was actually ringing.
"Herghuh."
"Oh, hello, is this GBE?"
"Ungh."
"This is Important Lady from That Job You Really Want. Did I wake you?"
Ho. Ly. Shit.
Turned out she wanted to get my supervisor's contact details but I convinced her to hold off until she's certain she's going to give me a job. She probably felt sorry for me, because I sounded like I was about to collapse in a hungover heap and DIE. I gave the convincing argument of "How about I DON'T tell my supervisor that I'm desperate for another job when you're not even sure if you want to hire me or not? HMM?"
And then.
I won a dodgy espresso set at work.
The end.
God. Damn.
After two pints, I was pleasantly tipsy, but felt compelled to top myself up with approximately three hundred litres of vodka directly afterwards. Jesus. After the first two hours, the rest of the night was a blur and a half and my memory is suffering from more black spots than a teenager's face, mid-puberty, post-chocolate binge.
Things that I do remember:
- Having two glowsticks down my top.
- Accidentally whipping the glassie in the face with said glowsticks, because I was swinging them around like nunchucks.
- My drink being smashed out of my hand on the dancefloor.
- Tripping over said drink several times whilst dancing.
- The drunken wanker who hurled his Coke at us, and walking around with my jeans drenched and brown.
Oh, wait. Sorry. To top THIS off, I was awoken the next morning by my mobile phone alarm. I started picking it up and slamming it around, frantically trying to hit the button to shut the son of a bitch up, before I was conscious enough to realise that it was actually ringing.
"Herghuh."
"Oh, hello, is this GBE?"
"Ungh."
"This is Important Lady from That Job You Really Want. Did I wake you?"
Ho. Ly. Shit.
Turned out she wanted to get my supervisor's contact details but I convinced her to hold off until she's certain she's going to give me a job. She probably felt sorry for me, because I sounded like I was about to collapse in a hungover heap and DIE. I gave the convincing argument of "How about I DON'T tell my supervisor that I'm desperate for another job when you're not even sure if you want to hire me or not? HMM?"
And then.
I won a dodgy espresso set at work.
The end.
posted by GBE at 7:04 pm
11 Comments:
oh dear...
I guess the thing we want to know is whether the dirty-slut-dancing was good..? We want to know if all those lessons have paid off?
Espresso all round then I say. Preferably with Mr Darcy if possible
Ugh! I hate the nasty way skin feels after a drinking binge, like there's enough oil pumping out of the pores to solve the world's energy needs for a hundred of years.
Oh dear. Some things are better left to someone else's memory.. no?
Sweet! I've never won anything at work, least of all an espresso set. One day, if I'm ever an employer I will allow my employees to win stuff by: a) working hard and b) covering up mistakes I make. They will totally love me for it, plus all the espresso will make them work even harder.
You sound fun/scary/random. You should come hang out with other brisbaneblogites on the 16th of December.
I do believe the details are being discussed and gladitorially fought over at delightful jen's blog.
kekekekekekekekeke
Dude I could've written this myself. I usually have a few more drunk dials and swearing in mine though.
And less dirty dancing because I am absolutely rubbish at the dancing.
Marcheline, ha indeed! But was it a "that was funny" ha, or a "you are rubbish" ha??
Actonb, funnily enough, the way I was informed about the dirty dancing was via a text message saying "the dance lessons are paying off." Though I don't imagine I did any slow-quick-quick in my drunken state. In fact, I think my instructor would be quite ashamed of me.
Killerrabbit, well, I have sent him an invite but I am still waiting for a response. It is difficult to get him away from that Lizzie wench, I fear. Mr Darcy, make haste!
Don Quixote, the first thing I do is climb into the shower. And then I normally curl up into a ball and blast scalding hot water over my head to try and make myself feel better. Doesn't normally work, but does sometimes make me feel a little cleaner.
Miss Devylish, I agree, though it is a bit annoying when people say, "wasn't it fun when this happened? Oh, and do you remember what that happened?" and having NO idea what they're talking about. I must have destroyed too many brain cells, because it's normally not so bad.
Mark, you would most definitely be an awesome employer. I won an AFL jersey at work once and sold it on e-bay. About a month before I started there, every single employee was given a bloody iPod. Can you believe that?
Adam, I have been keeping abreast of the situation, but at this stage it looks unlikely as it falls on my only long weekend before Christmas PLUS it's the day of my work Christmas party. But, I may well pike out of the party because it will be bollocks, so we'll see. I wouldn't want to commit to anything though.
Ilse! I do not know what that means, but I think you are giggling evilly at me. This does seem to be the general concensus amongst people who have heard my drunken tale.
Lucy, I absolutely cannot dance unless I am completely pissed. Not just partially pissed, but completely. When it gets to the point where I am no longer aware of other people, I will dance. And I am monumentally rubbish at dancing. I wiggle around and shake my arse and those are the only moves I know. We should go out together, and I'll practise my swearing and you'll practise the dancing and then we'll both have a full range of drunken behaviours to display.
Hehe, you are right GBE I am larfing it up big time.
But only because the drunken silly ho virus appears to have decided NOT to infect me for once, and has done the nasty to you.
(Actuallly, I did get revoltingly drunk on Friday and ended up doing a fair few things I regret so much they make my stomach hurt... so... there goes my theory.)
Ilse, maybe it takes turns, because it completely left me alone this weekend. I think the virus must be transmitted by the lethal combination of vodka and Top 40 dance music that I would never listen to in (sober) daylight hours.
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