School Age + Alcohol = Stupidity
Our champagne breakfast included the highlight for me of drinking Kahlua mixed with milk (curdled) and champagne. All as a delicate cocktail.

Surprisingly I didn't vomit. Not even once.
(Dog Bum Cute, wiggly, has scary anal glands, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 12:36, Reply)

FORE!
One NYE (do you detect a theme here?), at 5am, or something like that at first light, a half dozen friends or so and I decided to go to the local park with a hadful of golf clubs, and golf balls, stand 40 or 50 metres apart in a line, and ping off shots at each other. The fact that we were still pissed and crap golfers added acertain random aim factor into all the shots.
(David CopAFeel Used to be The_Elcat - Spouting crap since 1970., Tue 18 Apr 2006, 12:36, Reply)

Don't Get Creative With Daiquiris
One Christmas Night me and the boyfriend (The Elcat is my boyfriend and he's been posting his stories on here), went off to a friend's house for drinkies.

Many hours of drinking followed but by midnight we'd run out of strawberries for the daiquiris. We'd also run out of rum for the daiquiris. Inspiration! We'll make the strawberry daiquiris with strawberry jam and champagne!

I was the volunteer taster.

I spent the rest of the night projectile vomiting while seated in the bath. And crying. And refusing to let anyone but my best friend inside. So no one could go to the loo. I wouldn't let in The Elcat either, who had confidently told my best friend I wouldn't let her in either. She just smiled at him, walked past, asked if she could come in and between heaves heard my teary assent.

The next morning on the way home we had to stop on the highway so I could puke again. All the truckies driving past sounded their astonishingly loud horns while I chundered into the gutter. Glamorous.

We were told the next night that the home-owner found a stray pea under a shampoo bottle on the side of the bath where I'd forcefully chundered my Christmas lunch.
(Dog Bum Cute, wiggly, has scary anal glands, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 12:27, Reply)

Urm
I've been to loads of parties where there's drinking, falling down, but not always vomiting.... Well, not me anyway.

But is it me or does the phrase "I've got a really good idea" (or the equivalent) never lead to anything good....

.
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 12:20, Reply)

Ready, aim....
Part way through another NYE party, at a friends place, I decided that the best way to dispose of empties was to hurl them at a lemon tree down the bottom of the garden from a verandah. Everyone, as pissed as me, thought I was genius, and joined in.
My friend was picking up bottles from the garden, and out of next-door's pool and its surrounds for the next week.
(David CopAFeel Used to be The_Elcat - Spouting crap since 1970., Tue 18 Apr 2006, 12:08, Reply)

New Years Eve
Don't say you weren't warned: this isn't short. Like me.

New years eve, straight out of high school. We had the use of a friend's place, sans parents for the night. We were all warned not to do any damage to the glass-topped coffee table (it was the 80s).
My best mate, who still trusts me to this day, was there with his looooong term girlfriend, who had him very much under the thumb, and ruled with an iron fist. She left to go find food, as none of us had planned for that in the slightest.
Right, thinks he, it's time to get the drinking done while she's gone.
Bacardi and Coke. The drink straight from Satan's bottom, is the tipple of choice that night. He downs one, two, 6, whatever.
"Gimme another" he demands of me, who was acting as barman. Problem: No Bacardi. Solution: Fresh bottle of Bundy instead. Sorted. As I was quite pissed myself, I poured a "nip" which would have been about a quadruple. Another problem: No Coke. Solution: check the bar fridge. So I go under the bar, and by the time I return with Coke, my mate's standing there, holding the bar for dear life, shocked look on his face, as he'd just downed the lot in one gulp.
The girlfriend returns with the only food they could find - dodgy hot dogs, which everyone eats lots of because it's food and we're drunk and stupid.
Cue music, and midnight mayhem, which was relatively civilised, until one friend thought it would be great to make very pissed mate dance, which was hilarious to watch, and another mate thought it was an even better idea to tackle him, and throw him, rag-doll like into the ground (leaving a face imprint, I swear).
Then the vomiting starts. Chunks of part-eaten, part-digested hot dog are sprayed all and sundry.
Vomiting mate goes round the front, then a larger friend decided it would be better to take him out the back, so he doesn't get run over by traffic. Carries him, fireman's-lift style through the house. Part way through, mate starts to make ill noises and is going to spew. Quick thinking friend behind him dives forward and catches copious handful of spew, to selflessly save the cream pile carpet.
We put the sick one out back on the verandah, on a banana chair, after hosing him down, and cleaning as much sick off him as possible. It's Sydney, NYE is usually warm-ish. We didn't take into account it rarely is at 5am.
6am, he wakes up, we're barely conscious on the floor of the lounge room comes inside, freezing, wet, and covered in his own vom, and says, totally seriously "Hey, some bastard threw up on my shirt"

The coffee table was untouched, until the next day, when after all the cleaning up had been done, someone leaned on the corner of it, and it snapped off.

I copped off with a girl, and spent a long time playing tonsil hockey. Then some well meaning friends took her into a bedroom and made her sleep, and stood guard outside so I didn't get in, despite her demands that she wanted me to keep her warm. Bastards.
(David CopAFeel Used to be The_Elcat - Spouting crap since 1970., Tue 18 Apr 2006, 12:05, Reply)

This lass I know...
Owns the flat above the local pub, we rang to see if we could pop over and have a bit of a knees up, we couldn't.

b3ta QOTW answer narrowly averted.
(Peter Sutcliffe's Right Bollock, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 11:50, Reply)

Best party I ever went to...
After finishing our GCSEs at our humble comprehensive we were released into the world of sixth form college, thus coming across kids from the local private school who were far posher than us. One of them mentioned that his mate was having a party and we were welcome to gatecrash, so we did.

Turned out the 'houseparty' was in fact in a small castle. They had a ballroom with decks on a balcony and a 30 piece Jamaican steel band. They had a free bar stocked with enough beer to put the entire Austrian military in a permanent coma. They had servants walking round with trays of caviar and quail's eggs. It was cocking BRILLIANT.

Unfortunately we got thrown out after about an hour for hotboxing their porch (which you could fit about 14 people in) with some evil skunk whilst reciting 'No Diggety' at the top of our voices. Luckily we managed to fill my mates car with crates of beer before leaving.

Happy days!
( Damien's Hearse, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 11:35, Reply)

Not proud
I'm ashamed to admit this, but at one 'parents away' teenage party I was ever so slightly involved in chucking this lad down a rather grand staircase. He was taken to hospital where a broken leg was duly diagnosed, cast put on, etc.

When the cast was finally removed some weeks later it turned out his leg hadn't been broken at all, but the cast and treatment had left with with a permanent limp anyway.
Oops!
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 11:15, Reply)

formulaic reply anyone?
phwoooaaaar teenage parties, yeah so i went to this party mate.... blah blah blah blah alcohol blah blah blah blah leads to either sex or perhaps hillarious misdeeds.... blah blah blah moral of the story is we had a right old knees up.
(Comrade Tom, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 10:53, Reply)

Ahh, memories
During one of a spate of parties a few years back (of which all but one were ridiculously underage) I decided I really didn't like the person whose house I was in.

After stubbing fags out on almost everything on his porch (each individual brick, paving slab and gnome in reach) I wandered inside, necked another half bottle of vodka and found a huge wad of post-it-notes.

Step forward 30 minutes where I've got a slave army post-it-ing his entire house from the inside out, while said occupant was out 'helping buy more booze'.

Step forwards another 10 minutes to see the house owner return, throw all his toys out of the pram and blame someone other than me, and start something resembling a drunkan brawl between two 15 year olds.
The house owner was winning, and convicingly, until I threw his widescreen TV at him.

Luckily, after about 3 hours of vodka, tequila, rum, aftershock and beer, I managed to convince him he threw it at me and he still apologises for throwing that TV at me.

Personally, I still think he's a dick.
( Pointy Head poked another hole in my anorak on, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 1:38, Reply)

Ship Ahoy
A former British Colony, The Dark Continent, 1982.

The gym teacher at our school, a very excellent and eccentric chap, called me up to see if I could DJ at a party he was involved with as he liked my record collection. Sweet 16 for the daughter of a rich oldtimer. Celebrities to attend, maybe even Mick Jagger. Sure, I'm in! What to do for a sound system? Hmm...mines too small...we'll have to "borrow" the schools.

Cover of darkness, sneaking onto the grounds, wink to the nightwatchman, slip away with the monster speakers and whatnot. Off into the hinterlands! Up and down and around and about on dirt roads...suddenly we're going down a long driveway all lined with candles. Voila le kidney shaped swimming pool. Voila le big tents full of tasty food. Voila le sweet 16 herself, dressed in fishnets and a t-shirt, and hotter than hell. I was 16 too, and had only seen pictures of women in fishnets. This was almost too much for starters.

Quick drink, quick puff, up goes the equipment, records out, music checks out, cool! Guests start to arrive, put on some dinner music, check out the scene. Tasty nosh, almost time to start the dancing when a massive thunderstorm breaks out. Run to the tents! Mud, hilarity, and suddenly...no power.

Well, so much for DJing. However theres plenty of candles, plenty to drink, and a high dose of madness. Some nutter finds a guitar and starts singing horribly. People are attempt to construct a diving board out of tables. Several (male) drunks invade the lady of the house's dresser and appear in her underthings, grab candles and jump into the pool. No sign of Mick. Broken glass, more weed, booze and mud. The beauteous sweet 16 flits by in her now wet t-shirt, sweet Jesus. Still no power. Debauchery decays, party winds down, time to pack up and get stuff back to school before daybreak.

Pull the car up to the tent, load the little used gear. Rain starts pouring again. Pile in. Oops, too much mud to get out the way we came. What the fuck? Head up there between those trees! No, thats no good. Try there! Ok, we're on our way.

Suddenly we are headed downhill, sliding thru the mud, breaks full on, toward the kidney shaped pool. Slowmo as we get closer and closer...and just manage to stop in time. Find a landrover. Give a tug out to the road, careen home.

They don't invite me to parties like that much these days, more the pity.
(Ennui Kissinger, Tue 18 Apr 2006, 0:04, Reply)

Less of a party, a sleepover actually.
So at this sleepover last year, at the house of a girl I fancied quite a lot at the time, there were several of my friends, and several of her friends. We stayed up pretty late, but eventually decided to go to sleep. I go to sleep on the floor next to the girl, Kaz, who I fancy. My best friend Luke is sleeping on a chair with Jaz.

Next morning people woke up before me. Unfortunately, as it turned out, Luke had climbed into bed between me and Kaz in the night. So when he woke up, he was greeted by me hugging him in my sleep.

Bastard won't ever let me live it down.

-Nick
(ratthingbazzterd, Mon 17 Apr 2006, 23:30, Reply)

Brackley - halloween
If you were involved you'll understand...
Has the photo with the dog lead been destroyed?
(lankymike, Mon 17 Apr 2006, 22:54, Reply)

Last Night in Fact
Aaaah.

I planted a small cheese biscuit in a plant pot, in the hope it would grow, and then I fell down the stairs face-first into a bean bag.

But that's not it. One person god shitfaced and some vodka within an hour of getting there.He gets violent. He collapsed twice, threw a hot-cross bun at the wall, and broke his glasses and pushed people around. We (well, my friends.. I'm a pussy) took him outside and tried to get him to go home. I heard of escapades with him punching phone boxes and the like. His Dad actually came and got him in the end.

Cue two hours later the phone is ringing. The party's host is attending to a passed out girl on the stairs, so he instructs someone else to answer the phone.

It's the police. They have reports of violence in the area and they're ringing to just check that things are alright, and if it's necessary for someone to be sent down. The collapsed girl wants to be a police-woman, and when she hears of the call she bursts into tears. All of this is obviously auidble to the police on the phone, who ask for a second opinion from someone else in the party (the most sober person we could find).

I run to the kitchen and drank the most water I've ever drank in 2 minutes in my life; fueled by drunken panic. I thought I was going to fucking explode, it was like an oral enema.


Panic is rife. Then the host comes down an says it was all a joke. The policeman, who was very formal, was one of his mates who he had told him about the nights events over MSN- for a realistic police call (being able to refer to specific events.. a broken bottle, violence with a phone box..)

Cue a torrent of violence truly worthy of the police being called. Of course, being dopily drunk, none of us twigged that the police wouldn't bloody know the telephone number to contact.

Twats.
(The One That Time Forgot, Mon 17 Apr 2006, 21:10, Reply)

Coming out?
Was at a party my best mate was having and a lot of very 'cool' people were there that i didnt really talk to but made an effort to try and be nice. Earlier that week my seemingly straight (male) friend kissed and fondled my very gay male mate.

Well this was being kept a secret yet i wasnt informed that this juicy bit of gossip was to be told to others...

so night goes on and i drink two whole bottles of martini and feeling mighty sick i stand outside leaning against the shed.. talking to one of these girls when i said somethin along the lines of..

' ohh **** got off with robbie last nite! i saw everything, had to make me a cup of tea and sit down!'

Silence from the other person who then preceeded to tell everyone in the WHOLE 6th form and outed my not very gay friend who did not speak to me for about a month.

my dad was phoned and i was promptly sick on the kitchen floor. That was a good nite.
( squiddylyd Once you pop you can't stop!, Mon 17 Apr 2006, 21:02, Reply)

What ho chaps
Well, when I was 17 and had just scarpered off from Eton for the last time, I decided to venture out on the Grand tour, what. I popped over the Channel into France and gradually made my way down to Cannes just in time for the film festival There I met up with mumsy and a few other relatives.

At the opening night party a complete riot was had by all, except for the fact that Aunt Dahlia lost her shirt at baccarat and Angela nearly got inhaled by a shark while aquaplaning.

I don't know if you were at Cannes this summer. If you were, you will recall that anybody with any pretensions to being the life and soul of the party was accustomed to attend binges at the Casino in the ordinary evening-wear trouserings topped to the north by a white mess-jacket with brass buttons. I must admit I looked quite splendiferous.

Towards the end of the night, after toadying with all my chums and the notable dignitaries I began to feel amorous. Enter a complete stunner. She was tall, dark and sultry. I studied her in a profound reverie for the best part of two dry Martinis. As a matter of fact, it baffled me how she had not been seduced by my immediately apparent charms. My manly beauty and chiseled physique, my dashing attire and the complete lack of competition at the gathering should have caught her attention instantly. "Ho, she's playing dashed hard to get this one," I recall thinking to myself.

I must admit that by now I had imbibed several cocktails and, as it was quite late, a few snifters of brandy. Even so, I felt confident that her resolve would crumble in my immediate presence and I made to go up to her and engage her in conversation.

As I stood up to leave the table my very stylish jacket buttons caught my glass and tipped the contents over my groin. Unbeknownst to myself, it appeared that I had lost control of my bladder...

However, the dear lady didn't let on to this fact and I spent a good ten minutes talking to her before I caught a glance of myself in the mirror behind the bar (just to check that her attention was on me, don't cha know - not to check my appearance which is usually immaculate. I am not in the least bit vain. Everyone I ask tells me so)

Well, from the instant I saw what it must have looked like to her I turned a bright crimson and my small talk dried up like a prune. I made my excuses and left the party via the kitchens. I was so ashamed I didn't leave my hotel suite until it was time to travel to Monaco a week later!
(monkeyseemonkeydo, Mon 17 Apr 2006, 20:36, Reply)

Shoe
Another night, can't remember details, in the same house as below. Me and mike had our own party - well, we went out to get shitfaced - we succeeded and decided when we got home to have a fight/wrestle.

Mike's bigger than me. Twice my size in fact. Of pure muscle.

Me calling him a fat sod every time he let me up usually meant he'd jump on me, pummel me and let me up out of sympathy and I'd call him a fat sod, etc.

The shoe, however, was that everytime he let me up, he'd take my shoe and sling it out into the road - we lived on a main road and I had to dodge traffic to get it back. Well, at 3am, there wasn't much traffic.

Then it went missing - very odd.

Anyway, the next morning my housemates were pissed at us - turns out we'd woken them all up - Boo hoo I said.... Well, I didn't as Sian was angry at us and she was "Mum" in the house.

My shoe turned up in the tumble dryer. And the other in the fridge. I didn't even notice the other one was missing.

/Urk

Frequency, other penis joke, etc.
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Mon 17 Apr 2006, 20:04, Reply)

Erm
I've done the rounds at parties and I've often been the drunken arse....

At Uni, at our housewarming, I got arseholed on a lot of beer and nearly got into a fight in the kitchen. For reasons that I now forget I stormed out followed by my best mate - straight into the pouring rain that is - I proceeded to walk about 5 miles across Sheffield (if you've been there, you'll know it's just a bit hilly)....

Anyhoo, I turned up about 2 hours later, piss wet, still pissed to some alleged worried housemates - all of whom carried on partying without me anyway. [I bet the worried-ness went "Oh, where's James", "don't know", "oh well, let's get pissed"]

For reasons that I forget, the 6 of us in the house ended up back in my (giant attic) room hammered and all of us in tears (3 boys and 3 girls) - I still can't remember why....

Length, etc ;-)

BTW - Cheesman - is it that you like cocks?

.
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Mon 17 Apr 2006, 20:00, Reply)

cocks
spam
( tolin its me, Mon 17 Apr 2006, 19:23, Reply)

pukefilledpillows.
I was 17, but had a couple of friends who were in the year below and were celebrating the end of school year. Great, I think. I'd never really experienced much drinking at this point nor was I particularly fussed, but I thought that night "Lets get fucked". Some friend of a friend was hosting a big-ass party in her very lavish house.

At the time my best friend had just split up with her boyfriend, who prior to being with her, was my boyfriend. First rule really, never date the same guy. Anyhow, she was pretty messed up after this and proceeded to drink an entire bottle of vodka, washed down with copious amounts of "haribo" and a few joints for good measure.

I, on the other hand, had consumed a few beers and was nicely merry. Until I drunk the punch, laced with several bottles of Archers. I cannot drink that without feeling ill now. Anyhow, I ended up copping off with my ex boyfriend, who then vomitting down my top as I realised he was too, very drunk. My best friend found us locking lips and threatened to kill me with a vodka bottle, then blew chunks all down my new jeans. Ex boyfriend vaults a gate but misses, lands legs either side of it and promptly chucks up in shock. On my jeans. Friend then shags ex boyfriends best friend (this is where it gets hazy) in a tent and throws up in a pillow case, which is then used to sleep on later on.

I only lived down the road, so coated in puke (but not my own) I walked home, had a shower and promised never to drink alcohol again. Ha.

I lost my beret that night too.
(medic_girl85, Mon 17 Apr 2006, 17:28, Reply)

cocktails
bout 3 am at liams house joe and stephen manage to find the parents stash also in the cupboard along with the copious ammounts of booze is a cocktail shaker. so joe and stephen fort it would be a good idea to make some cocktails these consisted of a bit of every thing plus orange juice not really a cocktail i know but still. so i walks in and the cocktail shakers full. "joe come on let me throw it up in the air ive got skills" "no tom youll drop it we dont want to make a mess, ill do it" i tell ya ive never laughed so hard the cocktail shaker hit liams brand new cream living room carpet and the contents went everywhere. i dont think liams parents laughed so hard when the got back. they probably would have if they had seen joes abortion of a cocktail trick. i nearly soiled myself.
(fwack bang on it, Mon 17 Apr 2006, 17:11, Reply)

is it me
or is there allways some wanker at all of the teenage parties that ive been to that doesnt drink and then takes allmost orgasmic pleasure at poking fun at how drunk you was the next day. i hate them so much. the complete cunts
(fwack bang on it, Mon 17 Apr 2006, 16:48, Reply)

Oh god
Having read most of the posts, I thought I'd have a look back through my photo collection to see if there were any interesting ones from parties I went to. There were. There were also some videos I'd apparently recorded for myself:

(@Legionary) oh god
(@Legionary) I've just found a video from Sarah's 18th :/
(@Legionary) about 80 people drunkenly singing "happy birthday" :/
(@Legionary) er
(@Legionary) and me getting progressively more drunk
(@Legionary) quote: "I am sufficiently pissed, that recording a message to myself seems like a good idea"
(@Bodzilla) from you? :)
(@Legionary) yes :/ I've just found another bit where I forgot my own name
(@Legionary) also, I'm wearing a Megatokyo tee
(@Legionary) it doesnt get much worse
(@Legionary) eheheh. "Sober Andy, my friend. You will probably have a hangover in the morning."
(@Legionary) "Dan's just fallen over, I'm going to give him a hand. Dan! Get up. Up! Up is this way!"

I'd post the videos, but then I'd have to commit ritual suicide (even if they are from a few years ago now).
( Legionary - My god, Brian, there's a message in my alphabets, Mon 17 Apr 2006, 16:36, Reply)

Oh just a couple of saturdays ago
[First post, go easy on me]
Due to most of us having some previous engagements on said party day, the party wasn't starting til like 11pm; we'd all chipped in to get many bottles of vodka. There were about 20 of us I'd say, so we're playing the usual drinking games of "Lets get wasted QUICK QUICK". About an hour or two later we're all pretty drunk, and me and a couple of friends decide its time for our customary walk to the local 24hr BP garage; except we've only been gone about 15minutes (Its about a half hour walk each way, maybe more in the state we were in) and it starts to rain, we don't think much of it, but as we're going over the bridge at the train station its really tipping it down. So we decide to camp out in the station waiting room for a bit, its not stopping, so we all have a bit of a falling asleep mong in there. About an hour later we decide its not gonna stop so we walk on our way back to the party. As we're about 5minutes from the party, we're going past the HSBC bank, and for some reason we find ourselves pulling the "S" off the sign.. "Ohh, this is fun" we think, so we run off giggling that we have the "S" from the sign. We then decide to take the other letters, and the little red sign thing too.

This was the said sign collected at Party-house. After this we're all pretty happy yet still very wasted; we then decide to go and egg this guy's house, I didn't actually know him, but the others who did decided he deserved whatever he got. Problem: No eggs! The inventive teenagers we are, we decided to make a lovely mix of yoghurt and pasta salad, about 2 pots full. So there we are walking to this guys house. We get there and its me and tash with the yoghurt mix, Tash: "C'mon you do it first.." Me: *Throw* "KERSPLAT!" The front door is coated in it, she throws her lot too, and we run laughing our asses off. We get back there and everyones like "What have you done?", we're proudly exclaiming "We covered rory's front door in yoghurt!" (Plus drunken slurring).

What makes this only better, was when waiting for my lift home the next day, I walk past the HSBC and see a couple of HSBC workers standing outside on their phones looking pretty angry about the lack of a sign.. I chuckled. Oh and also, Tash told me a couple of days later that This guy and his family had gone on holiday for 2 weeks, so the yoghurt pasta mix had gone *solid* on his front door, did we feel guilty? Not one bit!
(pixiepie, Mon 17 Apr 2006, 15:43, Reply)

Mostly a tale of caution....
Vodka and diluting orange do not mix.

That is all.
( Iki I think my camel is dead., Mon 17 Apr 2006, 14:47, Reply)

17th birthday
Had a barbeque. In the dark. While playing bongos. On a hammock. Whilst party guests spanked each other.

This, to me, is the epitome of 'seemed like a good idea at the time', except that someone got me a dictaphone and had recorded all of it, and without a visual guide, it sounds a lot dirtier than it looks.
(thePontificator, Mon 17 Apr 2006, 14:40, Reply)

On New Years Eve 2004-2005 as in 11:59 2004, 12:00 2005
I hid behind a sofa most of the night and very drunkenly re-enacted the whole year in sock puppetry, I had my hand nearly broken by a friend who was stoned when I popped my hand up as George W Bush and he went about maliciously attacking Georgey the sock with a Metre stick rule of all things... it was a very odd night, I got very drunk and in the end my friend dropped a bottle of some cheap shite like WKD and I told him I'd clear it up as I was least drunk (I was probably in the worst condition) I perforated my thumb a few times

a girl called Sam also turned out to be scared of just about everything, knives, scissors, socks, weetabix, you name it she probably feared it.
( GrandmaOfShoes, Mon 17 Apr 2006, 12:39, Reply)

yesterday
i was at my cousins. after necking a few drinks we decided to see who could throw a handful
of squirty cream in the air and catch it in their mouth.

i ended up with it in my hair all over my clothes and i looked like i was foaming at the mouth.
the living room looked like sea gulls had come in and shat all over the floor.

*edit*: just found out after i left some kid had to be rescued from the upstairs toilet with a screw driver.
(torture bunny lives under the kitchen sink, Mon 17 Apr 2006, 10:38, Reply)

two parties...
in the last 12 months, two parties come to mind. as i'm 17 at present, they both qualify as teenage parties.

1) end of the last year at secondary school, and we have the big leavers' ball, everyone looking lovely in suits and dresses, all very civilised. drunken teachers calling students "cunts" and the occasional scrap. that was civilised for my school...
anyway, post-ball, a group of about 12-15 of us head back to our friend Tessa's for some booze and some good times. we sit around for a couple of hours, just drinking and chatting. now, personally, i didn't drink all that much, certainly not enough to be classed as "really drunk", but enough to pick up the rather lovely rachael from a bench in the back garden and carry her back into the house, hero-style, even though i didn't really know her.
of course, my dear friend poncho (sean...), he has a habit for drinking just a little to much. apparently he got through about 18 bottles of beer and alcopops, before throwing up all down himself, and the sofa, in the living room. so me and kyle (who is always sober as a judge.) take sean into the bathroom, remove his smart shirt and suit jacket, and prop him up in front of the loo. he's drifting in and out of consciousness, so fearing that he might end up choaking on his own vomit, i volunteer to sit with him for a while, just to be on the safe side. i attempt conversation with him, hoping to keep him awake, when all the while, from the living room i can hear "whiney danielle"'s voice, surprise surprise, whining. for an hour and a half. then kyle took over for half an hour, and i went into the kitchen, to get flashed by tessa. that was a good thing.
we plonked poncho on the living room floor, and left him to sleep it off, while we all talked and chatted in the kitchen.
of course, when it got to about 8AM, we decided we should be leaving, so after a brief clear up (not really all that much mess...) we wandered out into the streets of brockley, and caught a bus into lewisham. i proceeded to get a bus to blackheath, as i was playing guitar at a 5-9s childrens' holiday group at my church. in a suit. hungover. good times.

2) so, the other party that springs to mind was a little less... nice. me and two of my closest friends (poncho, again, and the almighty sammo) are headed to this party of a friend that myself and sammo vaguely know, in a nice big house in lewisham. we turn up, and basically just loiter in the hall, because we dont' really know anyone else, apart from this guy called rich, who's stoned and sells me a can of old speckled hen for a pound... there's about 30 people in the living room, just sitting around, smoking draw, drinking and generally being convivial. so the four of us decide to go to the back garden...
cue rich pulling out his pipe, which was his method of choic for smoking weed. sammo and poncho but have a tug, and pronounce it "rubbish", and i politely decline, not being the smoking type (heavily asthmatic).
we return to the indoors, where it's warmer, and meet a random guy called jimmy in the kitchen, who ended up being quite boring. then we found some random cherry spirits-type stuff. it was 'orrible, but we finished the rather large bottle between the three of us.
then we decided, we were feeling sociable, so we headed to the living room. everyone was still sitting around, smoking draw, drinking, chatting, but it was all a little louder and more excitable, due to the amount of alcohol that had been consumed. somehow, me and poncho get hold of a large bottle of red wine, which is full when we get it, but empty when we finish with it. then we start drinking gin. half a bottle of bombay sapphire is ingested between us, and we're both feeling fairly woozy. sammmo's disappeared off somewhere, to have a philosophical discussion, probably. so me and poncho are feeling fairly mashed, so we decide to see who can drink 3 cans of kronenburg the fastest. i win, in about 4 minutes.
i get bored of all this, and decide to go and sit on the sofa. now, at this point, my memory is vague, and i can't really remember anything for the next two or three hours... i remember talking to a girl called eve, and then not much for a while, then meeting a girl called jess upstairs about radiohead and bob dylan, and i'm still fairly good mates with her... then i was on the landing shouting abuse at someone... then in the host's parents' bedroom... then on the landing. then i woke up on top of a girl called katie, and we decided to leave. it was about 8 in the morning. once again, i had to be at church, for half nine, because i was playing guitar in the morning service. on the walk to church, i was hand in hand with katie's friend molly, the whole way, who asked me to fondle her baps about three times. so i obliged.
finally, i got to church after a 3 mile walk with a hangover, and nearly nodded off during the sermon. i felt very ill that day.

oh, and the girl called eve i mentioned above, during the blurry section, apparently we were sucking each other's faces for about half an hour... don't remember that.

lesson learned: drunk tony = horny tony.

edit: fuck... that was a long post. erm... "i've got a massive knob" do alright?
(notjustahatrack peeling a sausage..., Mon 17 Apr 2006, 10:31, Reply)