Alcohol can not only have a profound effect upon the individual but it can also be detrimental for those around them. Part One.

As I continue to delve into the dark and murky crypt that is the archives, I bring you a tale of debauchery and sin. A story of such grave magnitude that one cannot help but be disgusted by such wantonness and lasciviousness…OK, It’s just a story of me being drunk. But there is a little bit of debauchery in there…honest…now would I lie to you? Yeah you’re right, I would. Anyway, this is the true tale of…well, read for yourself…

The time I tried to bring sexy back…and failed. 

 I can still clearly recall the events surrounding my first drunken moments, the images vivid as they settle like fresh stains upon my memory.

It was a blazing summer, the hottest it had been for a while. I was in my teens and for the first occasion in my life, I found myself no longer bound by the parental restraints of any time restrictions that had been previously placed upon the clock. Buoyed by my new sense of freedom, my big sis and I, accompanied by a couple of friends, attended to a party being thrown by my cousin. 

As the night wore on, the drinks flowed, the lights dimmed and before long, I found myself in a corner of the living room attempting to ‘bring sexy back.’ My venture to dirty dance was hampered somewhat by a boy who seemed to possess the limbs of an octopus and whom also appeared to have a third leg residing somewhere within his trouser region.  Meanwhile my best friend Julia,who was now in a near state of inebriation and who had also, it would seemed, lost all use of her fine motor skills, had hit upon the cunning idea of dancing atop a bench with uneven legs. (That’s the bench with uneven legs, not Julia) 


With all the flair of a dancing wildebeest, Julia proceeded to flash her knickers intermittently at the boys who initially, had gathered to see if the fat girl would bounce if she fell off the worktop. Their curiosity however, was soon replaced by the unabiding question as to whether Julia was a natural red head or not. Wagers were made as enthusiastic eyes waited for confirmation, they didn’t have to wait long. One swift turn, a swish of skirt and a quick flash of lacy see-through undies and all was revealed…quite literally.  For those who had been correct in their gamble of ‘natural’, the spoils of £20 was awarded as they emerged victorious…and feeling a little queasy.
Julia also attempting to bring sexy back...and killing it in the process.

Julia also attempting to bring sexy back…and murdering it ruthlessly in the process.

 By 3:00 am, the party was beginning to wind down whilst I, was starting to feel a tad green around the gills. My uncle had offered to drive myself and my companions home and despite my protestations that I didn’t want to get in the “sodding car”, my pleas went unheard. With my head resting in a drunken stupor upon my sister’s lap and my stomach seemingly performing an array of back flips and somersaults, I groaned aloud as my bastard uncle, not only seem to go out of his way to drive along every pot hole and speed bump that he encountered but it appeared as though he was hell bent on only driving down roads where the singular requirement was to execute a sharp right at EVERY fucking turn. I remember staring down at my sister’s shoes, anything to distract from the feeling that my insides were trying to escape the confines of my stomach. Big sis, (who is the size of an Oompa Loompa but smaller) was daintily shod in a pair of two toned black and red stilettos that had cost her a pretty penny. Except that by the time we had exited the car, they had taken on a beige hue with an encrusted carrot finish.
Once safely home, I  trudge wearily over to the bunk bed, heaving my hefty arse onto the top, whilst Julia slumping unceremoniously, took the bottom bunk. Having been deep in slumber, I awoke to the sound of  my name being called and a lone voice, somewhere in the darkness, asking if I was OK.

Peering over the side of the bed, Julia’s hair seem to glow like a Belisha Beacon in the moonlight as she looked up a me, a note of concern etched across her freckled face.

I  nodded slightly and opened my mouth to assure her that all was well…and then promptly threw up in her face. Not only that but later on, I found out that the guy with the wandering hands and the protuberance in his trousers, the same guy whom I had been ‘sexing up’ on the dance floor, was in fact my cousin. I vowed there and then to give up drinking forever. I lied.

 *Stay tuned for part two where I actually vomit on people some more. I know, I am ONE classy lady.

40 thoughts on “Alcohol can not only have a profound effect upon the individual but it can also be detrimental for those around them. Part One.

  1. Whoo hooo I am not the only one who has experienced the “let me show you how much I care about you with a shower of my discarded innards!” And why is it that when we are drunk, we think that we have the grace of Lady Bey, when really its like the trampling of wild elephants on heat!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Mr D, that was all in the past. I’m now a good church going, god fearing, responsible woman who…hell, who am I kidding? My family regularly joke that if I enter holy ground, I’d burst into a ball of flames. As for letting it all hang out, surely that’s an arrestable offence?


      • I think you can get arrested but with me there wasn’t much to see so I don’t think anyone noticed. I think my worst ever episode was going to a friends wedding. My girlfriend and I were staying at my mum and dads. I think I must’ve eaten a dodgy vol-au-vent (I’m sure the twelve pints of beer had nothing to do with it). I woke up and rushed to the loo and kinda of made it in that I got the door open and pointed my face at the bowl. Gotta say my accuracy was outstanding except the last person in there had been my mum and she’d put the lid down! The ricochet was pretty catastrophic. Cleaning the ceiling was an absolute bastard! Now though, I have the occasional beer watching the footie on TV with the kids. I can’t be dealing with three days of a head stuffed full of cotton wool perched on top of a body that feels like a sack of poo. As for dancing? Think Scott Tracy from the original Thunderbirds. It was fun back in the day but I am simply not able to do that kind of thing now. The aftermath isn’t worth it!


        • There is NO amount of therapy that will EVER make that image go away!

          I’m pretty sure that the Twilight Zone resided behind the toilet in my old flat, cos I remember my friend missing the toilet completely and puking BEHIND it. The weird thing was, that when we went to clean up, nothing was there.

          Haha! I would so like to see your Scott Tracy dance. Damn, now I’ve got that song ‘Puppet on a string’ in my head.

          Liked by 1 person

      • Just reading through all the comments and thought how nice it is to discover you are not the only person on the planet to make a complete arse of themselves when you’ve had a bit too much to drink.


        • I’m loving hearing about everyone else’s experiences. It’s a great comfort to know that I’m not the only one who has gone through the act of drunken arseholery.


  2. Oh my! So many morels of awesome in here! (and I still need to finish your alphabet…this is how I am planning to kick Monday morning’s ass!)


  3. I do not drink alcohol and there are times when I am glad about that. Mind you it can be a terrible burden being an ordinary sane chap in a world full of strange mad folk saying you are their best mate in all the world.


    • Mr Z, I get drunk on the non alcoholic stuff, so I wouldn’t be able to handle the harder stuff anymore. I gave up the hard drinking years ago and I don’t miss it one bit. I was always one of those drunks that would say ‘I love you,’ before then insulting you…ahh, good times…


      • At least you were not cooking well done steaks and hiding them under the cushions of the sofa as happened in one rather memorable party in Australia. which ended with us being raided by the police in force (there were about twenty of them arriving through both the front and back doors at the same time. . . . . . . It is a very very long story .

        Liked by 1 person

        • As is often my state of mind most days, I am confused. Why were you cooking steaks only to hide them under the cushions of the sofa? And why do I get the feeling that your life has been somewhat more eccentric then what is written in your posts? As always, I’m intrigued.


    • Heehee, Just let it go G! Why can’t you just let it go?! WHHHHHHYYYYYY?!!
      Hey, at least it was a memorable night! 😛 *hides face in shame*


  4. I’ve never been much of a drinker, or as my husband puts it, “I turned in my little red uniform” a long time ago. One or two drinks is my limit. My tolerance for alcohol is pretty low, but that’s okay, because our daughter drinks my share and hers, too.


    • Susan, I have NO tolerance for alcohol anymore. But back in the day, what started out as fun, became a serious problem. I can’t even remember the last time that I had alcohol in the house. I can’t even handle the fizz from a can of Coke nowadays! Give me a can of root beer and I’m a happy woman.


  5. ahhh the memories… well actually tricky much of my worst alcohol adventures led to blackout and therefore sketchy recollection of vomiting on pavements, car bonnets (A rolls Royce to just piss the guy off), out of train windows, crawling around train stations, policemen with that certain look of disdain in their eyes, wet trousers etc.

    Robin Williams once described blackout as being when your conscience vacates the scene: “Dude, you’re about to fuck a hobbit–see ya!” Apt description Robins… very apt


    • Oh goodness this made me laugh. But they do say that former addicts have a perverse sense of humour…apart from the guy that emailed me, but I’ll address that on the second post.

      I couldn’t even document half the stupid and dangerous shit I did whilst wasted, but the blackouts were generally seen as “wow, that must have been a good night!” And let’s not forget waking up the next day still drunk. Looking back now, I’m quite scared by the fact that I may have actually shagged a hobbit or two…

      Liked by 2 people

  6. Lily, love this wanton tale of your first drunken teenage party!! You did it with style with lots of drinking, dirty dancing (oh no about your cousin but it was a blazing hot summer and lights were dim I’m sure!!), Julia’s flashing knickers (noting the name Julia here!), lots of vomiting on people and stuff, and redecorating the shoes of your big sis in lovely shades of “encrusted carrot finish.” LOL! Staying tuned for part two! 🙂

    Gotta share that when I was young, I dated a college guy (Dave) whose dorm was literally on a ship docked at a port. Dizzy from drinking too many Tom Collins’ at a party on the ship (which is why I stick mainly to wine now when I drink, not mixed drinks!!) I found my way back to Dave’s dorm bathroom and hurled all over the toilet and floor. Then I felt hot, looked out a porthole and swore the ship was moving (it wasn’t!), promptly took off all my clothes (well, it was a warm night!) and passed out on the bathroom floor. Problem was, this was not Dave’s room!! I was awakened by a couple of drunk college guys saying wow, a naked lady in our bathroom, score! And quickly ran out of there…oh, I did take my clothes LOL! I vomited all the way down the hallway to Dave’s room too. I was so embarrassed at the time but now it’s really funny looking back on it. Oh, I wasn’t bringing back sexy there either LOL!


    • LOL! Oh Madilyn! Those guys must have thought that Christmas had come early when they saw you! I’ve done a lot of things whilst drunk, but even I haven’t stripped naked and slept naked on the bathroom floor of a college dorm. Absolutely Priceless!!

      Liked by 1 person

  7. LMAO… wow this is epic!! that ending, was pretty orgasmic… and orally orgasmic in the most of regurgitative of ways…. damn!
    At a family party 2 years ago, where a bunch of non family members attended, I was making a move on this beautiful subject, until she was like… “Don’t even think about it. I am related to you and I’m also married.” She was a cousin I had no idea existed. The married part simply went out the other ear.


  8. Noooooo. It reminds me of the first night I was allowed to stay out ALL NIGHT, when I was 16. Got drunk, threw up the fried egg sandwich which we all thought was a good idea at 3am and then had to go home next morning and pretend all was fine to my parents who never let a drop of alcohol pass their lips. Not because of any religious conviction or anything – maybe they’d got pissed when they were 16 too and regretted it. Oh and when I hit home I had to eat a full roast dinner too. Yes, lovely Mum, just not very hungry today.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Kimberly, the last time I threw up fried egg, was the last time I ever ate fried eggs. Bringing up fried egg is a traumatic experience in itself. And why do we always think, I’m so drunk that I can’t think let alone speak, but i’m gonna cook me some food at 3 am?”

      Haha! I would have died…literally, if I had to eat a full roast dinner. Maybe you’re mum knew and that was her way of punishing you.


    • That would be the biggest car crash EVER, considering that I can get drunk on water. My tolerance level since I quit, is zero. I had a drop of Ribena the other day and started insulting people’s mamas.


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