From SAMMONAB@ALPHA.aston.ac.uk Sun May 9 12:10:05 1999 Date: Thu, 18 May 1995 12:26:05 GMT From: Nadia Reply-To: SAMMONAB@aston.ac.uk Newsgroups: alt.gothic Subject: Re: Stupid things done while drunk (long one!) One sunny day, bloodkis@industry.org (bloodkis@industry.org) said... > > >OK, it's honsty time boys and girls.. >What is THE stupidest/most embarrasing (sp?) things you've done while >intoxicated/drunk/fuckfaced etc? > > >- I guess mine came after a long night of cider drinking... after a >length visit to th bathroom ;) I came out, smiling and saying I was >fiiiine... and then commenced to throw up all over the table. GREAT.... > > BLOODKISS > OK then...I suppose the following is pretty fucking stupid...mind you, it's the sort of thing that's always happening to me (anyone remember how I got stuck to a chair in the computer lab?)...anyway, here goes... I had been down to the student union getting well plastered. The union closed and I staggered off home. It's about 45 minutes walk to my house, and half way home, an Alsatian dog trotted up to me. I like dogs, so I bent down and patted it. It followed me home. When I got to my front door it was still hanging about, so I took it inside. It didn't have a collar so, at a loss as to what I was to do, I phoned the RSPCA. The nice woman at the other end told me to take it to my local police station. OK, I thought, Bordesley Green nick is only 100 yards away, I'll take it there. So I did. Unfortunately, Bordesley Green nick doesn't have any policemen in it at night. What it does have is a phone attatched to the wall and you pick it up, and a voice says 'West Midlands Police, please hold the line.' and then it plays you a jolly little tune so you have something to listen to whilst you are mugged, murdered or whatever. Anyway...I was eventually put through to a nice officer who say he was very sorry, but the nearest station taking in dogs was Steelhouse Lane, some five miles distant. I resolved to walk there. Just then, a cop car pulled up with some more policemen inside. Could they help, they wanted to know. I staggered over, clutching the dog. Could they take it to Steelhouse Lane? They were very sorry, but they couldn't. They suggested I take the dog home to my place and call the dog warden in the morning to collect it. As I was having difficulty remaining upright, let alone walking, I decided this was a good idea. I took the dog home. When we got back, the dog was overjoyed and set about investigating the house. It investigated the sofa, it investigated the kitchen, it investigated the fridge while my back was turned. I hope the dog enjoyed the ham. I know I would have. But it must have been quite salty, 'cos the next thing the dog investigated was the toilet, whence it took a long drink. Euch! Then it plopped itself down in the middle of the kitchen floor looking pleased with itself. I managed to get the beast upstairs to my room, gave it a coat to lie on, settled it down, took my clothes off and collapsed into bed. So far so good, but in the excitement, I had quite forgotten how pissed I was. I remembered when the room started spinning round. Now in my experience, there is only _one thing_ that can stop roomspin, and that's a chat on the big white telephone. I was going to throw. I headed off to the bog. Problem. The dog wanted to come too. I tried to shut it in my room, but as soon as I moved away from the door it started howling. I would have felt quite touched if I hadn't felt so damn ill. With the chrystal clarity of the terminally pissed, it occured to me that the only solution to my predicament was to take the dog with me while I threw up. The landing-light had blown, so I had to feel my way gingerly down the landing and stairs. The lack of light didn't worry the dog which was zipping back and forth like a mad thing. I started slowly down the stairs. The dog flew past me, got half way down and fell the rest of the way. Thumpthumpthumpthumpcrash! Unbeknownst to me, this woke up my housemate, Clare. I dragged the dog into the toilet and set about the business at hand. Five minutes later I felt much better. In the meantime, Clare had come downstairs to see what all the noise was about, and was waiting in the kitchen. I opened the bog door, and the dog dashed out to give Clare an enthusiastic greeting, shortly followed by myself wearing nothing but a sheepish grin. I could have tried to explain to Clare exactly what I was doing drunk and naked, in the middle of the night, in the toilet with an alsatian, but I was far beyond that. I just muttered an apology and went back to bed. The matter has never arisen in conversation with her, but she does give me some very odd looks sometimes. -- *_*** _**N A D I A******g e n d e r * i s * m i s n o m e r**1 0 0 P E R ( `\/' )'...this cup of mine is empty, seems I've misplaced C E N T D R `\ /' my desires, seems I'm sweeping up the ashes of all O P D E A D `\/' my former fires...' - Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds G O R G E O b l i n d * h e a r t*****L o n d o n & B i r m i n g h a m**U S G O T H