Five Sly Naps in the Disabled Loo
That there finely crafted piece of graphic art is the flyer for the Toad Night happening on Sunday at Sneaky’s. Beauticious, isn’t it – took me almost fifteen minutes. It should be a fun night though, particularly if you get lubricated at the Shipping Forecast Garden Party at the Pear Tree beforehand.
I was a guest DJ at Born to Be Wide last night, which was rather fun. My assignment was to play about half an hour of unsigned Edinburgh bands, so it was a fine opportunity to make a club crowd listen to tunes by the likes of The Leg, Enfant Bastard, the Pineapple Chunks and eagleowl. I can’t imagine there are many clubs where that sort of stuff is on the playlist, so that made me smile a little on the inside – particularly when I was approached by someone during eagleowl, demanding to know who was playing this wonderful song. Score one for the wol.
The other comedy about last night was the lineup of guest DJs. Born to Be Wide is a good night anyway, but last night Derek and Olaf truly excelled, getting porn director Ben Dover, actor and former Fire Engines singer Tam Dean Burn, and Orange Juice/Josef K/Low Miffs guitar hero Malcolm Ross to do sets at various points during the evening. So yes: me, Ben Dover, Tam Dean Burn and Malcolm Ross. I might as well retire now.
To make matters even more surreal, Malcolm did his Postcard Records set after my Unsigned Edinburgh one, and didn’t know how to use the DJ stuff, so I had to show him. Talk about the blind leading the bloody blind – me with my almighty two sets of DJ experience having to show someone else how to use the equipment. In future, of course, I am going to simply refer to this incident as ‘that time I taught Malcolm Ross to DJ’. If any of you let slip the fact that this is a gross exaggeration to the point of pure fabrication, then I’ll kill you.
“What did you do last night Toad?”
“Oh the usual… played some tunes, had a couple of gins, taught Malcolm Ross how to DJ. You get up to much?”
Not sure where I was going with that, actually. Apart from trying explain the fact that it’s Friday and once again I have a massive hangover. If only the day was 30 hours long I could sleep this shit off quite happily – curse you, Earth, and your excessively hasty axial rotation! The only real consolation is that Mrs. Toad went on one of those corporate circle jerk team building buzzword bingo tossathons last night, staggered in so pished she didn’t even turn out the light in the bedroom and is now probably feeling far worse than I am.
Although knowing her, she’s probably curled up on the floor of the disabled loo having a crafty nap, the cheeky little minx.
1. Best ritual to get you to sleep.
2. Best tip for getting ready for work and out of the house fast with a stinking hangover.
3. Best hangover treat.
4. Best comfort food your mum made.
5. Best drunken debacle which happened to someone else and was hence very amusing instead of mortifying.
Orange Juice – Love Sick
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Josef K – Sorry For Laughing (Vinyl Version)
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Fire Engines – Get Up and Use Me
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The Shop Assistants – It’s Up to You
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Parenthetical Girls – A Song For Ellie Greenwich (Who is dead. Ruth from the Bowery and I recorded a podcast yesterday, which will go up next Saturday, which goes into this in much more detail, but for now just look her up and marvel at quite how many truly legendary songs the woman wrote. I genuinely had no idea.)
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1. I need no encouragement whatsoever.
2. I think I’m down to five minutes now. Up, into shower with toothbrush, spit, fling toothbrush across bathroom into sink, shampoo, baws, rinse jeans, t-shirt, out door. About five minutes, max.
3. Erm, Haribo Star Mix usually features.
4. Lasagne. I can cook, but I’ve never been able to match that.
5. Neil’s reindeer antlers at Christmas?
1. Best ritual to get you to sleep.
It must be said that whatever ritual I chose to employ would be wasted because my zzzs are regularly truncated by Mr Toad gracing the bed several hours after I went. If its video editing, usually 3am, gigs 2am and gigs + a trip to Mr bear’s house 5am. The consolation is that I get to swear and shout at him when these occasions arise, particularly if he is particularly reeking in which case I up the ante and throw in some narrow eyed hissing too.
2. Best tip for getting ready for work and out of the house fast with a stinking hangover.
Brush teeth in shower. Consol yourself that being moderately careful the other days of the week entitles you to dress in whatever is clean and to hand even if you look like Helena Bonham Carter on a bad day. Shout at husband to make him do chores you don’t have time for on tenous excuse that he promised to do them yesterday. How the fuck would he know anyway, its not like he listens.
3. Best hangover treat.
Fried tatties with bing loads of garlic and some rosemary. A Mattesons pork sausage is also appreciated.
4. Best comfort food your mum made.
Stovies. I fucking love stovies.
5. Best drunken debacle which happened to someone else and was hence very amusing instead of mortifying.
My colleague slept at work last night, his wife drove 15 miles in this morning with two kids in the car to give him a shirt, razor, toothpaste and a right old bollocking.
1. Watching late night trash on TV.
2. “Sorry, I’m going to have to work from home today, as someone is coming round to fix my oven/boiler/plumbing…”
3. Ice cream. Or hair of the dog.
4. Don’t think she ever did.
5. I like Richie’s story of when he was at the house of some friends of his girlfriend – I think meeting them for the first time.
After a few drinks he went to the toilet. When coming out he found the door to be a bit stuck. Applying some pressure it wouldn’t move, and so he thought someone must have been holding it from the other side. He tried it a few more times, without success. So he took a few steps back and then came at it with a charge, sending the door flying off it’s hinges.
He returned to complete silence, shocked faces of the other guests, and his girlfriend telling him:
“that was a slide door”
1. I sleep so much it’s silly, I need no encouragement.
2. Sleeping in generally helps me get ready quick as fuck.
3. Soup, always soup. Loads of it on a hangover.
4. It’s worrying how bad my mum is at cooking. My gran was always ace though, macaroni is always comforting.
5. A pal of mine felt up my girlfriend infront of both me and his girlfriend.
Oh and cheers for the mention Mr Toad.
Mrs Toad – Brushing your teeth in the shower is one of the least pleasant sensations around.
1. Count backwards from 100. If you get down to the seventies it’s not bedtime, go back to the pub.
2. Put yesterday’s clothes back on.
3. Breakfast roll with any combination of bacon, egg, haggis slice, black pudding, sausage, tattie scone. You Scots do know how to do a breakfast. Slathered with brown sauce and a mug of hot tea on the side. Oh yes.
4. Trifle. Another great hangover treat. Cold, cold trifle. Refreshing and comforting at the same time.
5. A bunch of us were walking home from the pub in Cardiff Bay, where there has been extensive urban redevelopment and landscaping so there are a lot of water features, pools and fountains about the place. I was walking along a low wall which formed a sort of pond feature, and my mate Jim, convinced that fifteen pints of lager had given him devasting ninja skills and lightning-fast reflexes, came lumbering at me with the obvious intention of puching me into the water. What made it funny was how slow and uncoordinated his assault was, giveing me plenty of time to simply step out of the way and watch, baffled and amused, as Jim sent himself arse over tit over the wall and straight into the pond! Cock.
He actually turned to me while he was sat on his arse in the water, looking all hurt and dejected, the rest of us crippled with laughter, and said “What did you do that for?!”
I was like “What? Get out of the way and let you hurl yourself headlong into a pond?!”
1. Reading an English set text – usually I’m out in a page. Ulysses is the best for this sort of thing, although Paradise Lost runs a close second.
2. Brush teeth and shave (if necessary) in the (cold) shower. Skip washing hair. Skip breakfast.
3. Packet of salt & vinegar crisps and a pepsi. Got your starches, salts, fats, sugars and a nice helping of caffiene all in a bag and a can. Is also impossible to prepare incorrectly.
4. It wasn’t her gluten- and dairy-free carob cake with peanut butter ‘icing’, I’ll tell you that much.
5. Friend of mine locked herself in the toilet on New Year’s Eve and was so drunk she couldn’t find the key again. We all spent about half an hour talking to her through the door, until she could see straight enough to find it.
It is true Dav, that lukewarm water is not the ideal accompaniement to a gobfull of Colgate. But needs must.
Also Dav, what was amusing about your friend feeling up your girlfriend?
Did he do it with a ‘Gladiators’ style giant foam hand?
That would be a world class fondling. He’d probably get away with that just because of the confusion it caused!
When Bart said Gladiators I thought of Russell Crowe and figured I must have missed the “giant foam hand” scene in the movie.
I get it now, though.
Actually Bart, you are quite right, in retrospect there is little amusing about this. The part where my friends father gave his 25 year old son a row for his inappropriate actions did give me a snug glow though.
Also Bart you do have to see my friend when he’s drunk, his mouth gets really really big, it’s rare you see a man so happy.
Gobby when drunk? We don’t like that sort of person around here.
I’d laugh my arse off if someone tried to feel up Mrs. Toad – just break out some popcorn, sit back, and wait for the gentle scrunching sound of torn scrotum…
Hang on Dav, he felt up your girlfriend in front of you, his own girlfriend, and his dad?!
What sort of 1970s rock n’roll tour lifestyle do you live?!
Nah not gobby, physically his mouth gets really wide and he’s really smiley.
Ah, so he smiiiiled as he groped her. That explains everything.
Dylan, please call or get on Messenger asap.
1. Usually the time comes when Charles Gibson takes over the BBC late night news and shortly after I chuckle at the american shock tactic headlines, he sends me there.
2. I just get dressed whilst swearing at myself. Quite impressed you all leave room for showers and the brushing of teeth. I’m ususally so late that a quick date with a can of deo and some listerine is a luxury.
3. Porridge with honey.
4. Her Banana Bread was second to none.
5. A friend of mine was staying with some germans he knows. He was wearing a kilt (true scotsman) and they proceeded to get him rat arsed on all kinds of fucked up moonshine. He shat himself (plaster casted their kitchen floor) and then was undressed and showered by his german host, who had previously been involved in an industrial accident with a power saw and therefore had decided to attach a hook to his arm as a joke before the drinking had begun. Can you imagine going down to breakfast after that one?
1. Best ritual to get you to sleep.
I’ve been finding it harder & harder to get to sleep of late, regardless of how exhausted I am. I think my body clock has been so over-wound this past year+ that it has now started eating its own tail & exists only as an abstract. I don’t have a ritual that works anymore, it would seem.
2. Best tip for getting ready for work and out of the house fast with a stinking hangover.
If you correctly dose up on Vit B1 you’ll seriously minimize or eradicate any hangover. I have been wearing insect repellent Vit B1 patches for the past 2 years when I tie one on & these days (as long as I remember to slap one on an hour or so before first drink) I don’t get hangovers.
The skeptical may poo poo the notion, but everyone I know who has raised an eyebrow but then tried a patch as a ‘what do you have to lose’ suggestion has come back & said they worked perfectly.
There are B1 patches marketed specifically for hangovers out there, you just need to know where to look & what to look for.
3. Best hangover treat.
TWoTH can attest to this, I get sugar craving when I have been hungover & have been known to scoff a LOT of shit in the fizzy Wham Bar end of the sweet/candy spectrum. BUT my absolute must when hungover is freezepops/Mr. Freezes/tip tops/whatever they’re called. a good handful of them & I’m right as rain in an hour. Not so much a treat, moresomuch an e-number based cure.
4. Best comfort food your mum made.
Custard Slices (or Iced Slices as we used to call them in Wales)
5. Best drunken debacle which happened to someone else and was hence very amusing instead of mortifying.
A brilliant guitarist friend of mine has a number of terrible stories to his name. Far too many. The best one was about 16 or so years ago: he & his then GF turned up at my then GF’s shared student house after attending their first ever outdoor illegal rave. They both had been massive indie heads & the lure of the variety & quantities of drugs saw them headed for the first ever outdoor illegal rave held in Wales. They came back completely & utterly changed (music taste-wise, outlook-wise, etc.), & were both still very much fucked off their faces. At one point my mate excused himself to go to the bathroom. After about 45mins his GF suddenly realized he hadn’t returned, so decided to go & investigate. After about 20 mins me & my GF realized that now she hadn’t returned, let alone him. When they eventually came back in she was clearly trying not to piss herself laughing & he looked the most sheepish I’d ever seen him look.
He explained he’d been in the bathroom and feeling very ill sat down thinking he needed a shit to clear his system. After a while he started retching, so jumped off the toilet & stuck his head down the bowl. However, nothing happened but his stomach steadily got worse. He decided to try & take his mind off the pain by reading one of the bathroom magazines while he was sat on the bathroom floor. He remembered that as a kid , when he got ill, he would help the pain go away by masturbating; why not give it a bash to see if it worked now? he thought.
Suddenly, as he’s thumping away, the bathroom door opens & it’s the mother of one of the other girls who shared the house. She looked at him, squatting on the floor, trousers & pants around his ankles, cock in hand, reading Just Seventeen, & said “I do apologise. I did not know you were busy”, turned around & shut the door.
What made it worse was the mother had come to check the accommodation was suitable because they were muslim & her daughter was being granted a very special privilege within the family to be allowed to go to university in the first place.
The girl left the house & university the next day on instructions of her father.
1. Best ritual to get you to sleep.
I love to listen to National Public Radio. It’s the only decent news in America and plays the World Service every now and then. Although I have been known to put on a good detective story.
2. Best tip for getting ready for work and out of the house fast with a stinking hangover.
Coffee coffee coffee.
3. Best hangover treat.
Spicy V8 Juice. It a vegetable juice concoction and the spicy one really has a good kick. Barring this, spicy noodle soup from down the road. Either way the chilly will defeat all the evil that is going on in your body.
4. Best comfort food your mum made.
Matthew is absolutely right. Mum lasagna is is truly the greatest food ever made. I have no idea how she does it. But now that my wife eats meat again I can go home and demand lasagna. Sweet sweet happy days.
5. Best drunken debacle which happened to someone else and was hence very amusing instead of mortifying.
My friend Kevin tried to do a backflip of a snow back on an icy New York pavement (sidewark) and knocked his two front teeth out. He didn’t have dental insurance so the only thing he could afford was a pair of removable front teeth. Incidentally removable teeth make for the best bar gag in the world…
1. I listen to non-music podcasts. Football Weekly, InBiz, Moneybox Live, This American Life, etc etc etc. I’m generally pretty terrible at getting to sleep or subsequently staying asleep though.
2. Sleep in your clothes.
3. Irn-Bru.
4. Probably something relatively mundane like shepherds pie.
5. Sadly most of the episodes that come to mind are of my own creation and quite mortifying. We had a flat party recently for my flat mate’s birthday, we were all talking in the kitchen when he promptly lost the ability to stand and went down not unlike Ricky Hatton in his most recent fight – boring.
Given how rock ‘n’ roll this is starting to sound, Dav was probably snorting finest Colombian off his mate’s erect penis at the time, which puts a rather different spin on things.
Meaurgh. i’m leaving work in just over an hour.
Oh. Managed to interrupt your nap long enough to tell us that, did you?
1. Cuddle up to Mrs. 17 Seconds and the cats, put Sigur Ros on the ipod and…usually works
2. Fear of the sack and a lot of black coffee used to work in my drinking days
3. Diet coke and Orange Juice, and a big (vegetarian) fry-up
4. She is a great coke but never went for comfort tale.
5. My brother ringing my house at university (when I was away) and getting so drunk hepissed in the phonebox and dropped his wallet in it.
Think this was about ten years ago, mind…
1. i also need no encouragement, i sleep on the sofa when i am in the flat int he evening, then i sleep in bed, then i get up and sleep on the commute – no encouragement needed.
2. Disgustingly, it is to not shower, throw clothes on grab make-up and just get there, i keep toothpaste and stuff at work so chewing gum does. Every last minute of snoozing counts
3. Coffee and a sausage roll
4. My Mum does not tolerate hangovers and generally feeds me nothing, so i have to hide them in order to get some treats…
5. A less disgusting kilt story – at a party at my folks house, my friend fell asleep in his kilt on their stairs and slid from the top to the bottom causing said kilt to cover the wrong half of his body, he was there for about 3 hours before someone woke him up…
I am not coming on Sunday – have to go back home. Rubbish!
Yes Matthew, I understand from Facebook and Twiitter that inane updates on my life dispensed throughout the day will “connect” me with people who will then deem me important enough to “poke” or play “Pirates” with.
I am now typing at my desk and eating cake.
I want cake.
..then i get up and sleep on the commute
Don’t you drive to Glasgow now?!!
If Mrs Toad had twitter, how often do you think her friends would be tweeted with a hearty ‘Mind your own fucking business”?
1. Best ritual to get you to sleep.
The best ritual generally involves a few pints followed by some lovely whisky. Or if it’s not a drinking night then a hot bath, fresh PJs and some sudoku.
2. Best tip for getting ready for work and out of the house fast with a stinking hangover.
Get up before the hangover kicks in so I’m doing all the necessary ablutions while still drunk. It doesn’t hurt quite so bad.
3. Best hangover treat.
Pretty much anything hot (or ‘with a wee bit of heat in it’ as the wifies always tell you) from Greggs. I think Greggs are missing a trick by not offering hangover grab bags at a fiver a pop for 3 mixed baked savouries.
4. Best comfort food your mum made.
Lentil soup with sliced hot dogs. Her macaroni cheese is also pretty ace.
5. Best drunken debacle which happened to someone else and was hence very amusing instead of mortifying.
That would be the time my pal got up during the night after peeing all over a sofa bed and moved to a neighboring couch to sleep there instead. Then pished all over that. Then had the drunkenly genius plan of hiding his pishings by pouring milk all over both very damp patches. And then hearing about how he was questioned about the pishy milk smell by his mate’s mum a couple of days later since he hadn’t ‘fessed up at the time.
1. Reading Samuel Beckett. Eurgh.
2. Hearing Olga up and around the house and having to leave before risking conversation.
3. Pizza.
4. As much as I love her, my Mum is not a very good cook. I think it’d have to be something like Corned Beef Hash, but that stopped when the cows went mad.
5. I heard a story about one of our Junior Squad athletes who got very drunk at the World Champs party, and had a very drunk Czech girl grinding about on his lap in a very flimsy skirt. Aforementioned Czech girl hadn’t realised that her time of the month was upon her, and the poor boy turned up at the coaches door white as a sheet, with his trousers soaked in blood, asking for help with his serious injury. Oops.
The less funny one is Andy Nonimage ringing me at 3am trying to figure out where he’d ended up on the wrong Nightbus. Greenbank will forever be a special place in my memory. But that wasn’t really mortifying, just a bit silly.
Piss and milk, Flora? Sounds like some sort of cocktail, probably involving Advocaat.
1. Counting Neil Pennycooks, er, sheep.
2. Have your mates set your house on fire.
3. Greasy bacon with lots of liquid fat. A potent emetic which never fails to bring relief.
4. Same as # 3.
5. Teddy Kennedy’s biography.
C&B
Too soon? Maybe just a little…
I think a piss and milk cocktail would be more graciously received than anything involving Advocaat.
The trick is to close your eyes!
standing in the shower going oh fuck, normally sorts me out
Strong Coffee and roll and bacon
can’t recall anything that was comforting.
i once got very drunk and my friend carried me home put me to bed and generally looked after me, once his duty was done he went to his bedroom and pissed all over it and then got into his wet bed.
lovely
C&B….Ted who?
Little Ted Bear.
1. Best ritual to get you to sleep.
I like to watch an episode of Friends. It automatically turns your brain off.
2. Best tip for getting ready for work and out of the house fast with a stinking hangover.
Finish off the half-eaten cheese toastie you made the night before.
3. Best hangover treat.
McDonalds breakfast. I’m just never up in time to get one.
4. Best comfort food your mum made.
Spaghetti. I wonder what it is about pasta made by mothers that is so comforting?
5. Best drunken debacle which happened to someone else and was hence very amusing instead of mortifying.
Not particularly disgraceful, but a friend of mine drunkenly pulled a girl in the pub around 9pm and spent the next 3 hours trying to convince her that the place was closing imminently so they might as well just leave together. That one didn’t end well for him.
Ben, if you think I’m at it too soon, check out the Onion:
http://www.theonion.com/content/from_print/kennedy_curse_claims_life_of?utm_source=b-section
And I actually liked the guy.
Yikes!
I liked him too. And we can’t really complain. I don’t think I was all that reverent when Regan went.
It’s a shame Kennedys dead though, he might have provided a genuine insight into the ‘best hangover cure’ we’ve all been debating.
1. Falling over and hoping I hit my head on something.
2. Don’t.
3. Cold pizza.
4. I agree completely with Mrs. Toad. Stovies are fucking amazing.
5. A friend of a friend fell asleep on a traffic island…
Ted Kennedy Hangover Success Tips :
- leave the car keys where you can’t find them. You’ll regret driving.
- err… thats it.
1. Best ritual to get you to sleep.
lying down on the couch after dinner, snooze-athon time
2. Best tip for getting ready for work and out of the house fast with a stinking hangover.
Get drunk enough that you are still drunk in the morning, then everything is still funny
3. Best hangover treat.
anything baked from Greggs, eat until you feel sick
then sit and feel sorry for yourself even more
4. Best comfort food your mum made.
Macaroni! although the wife makes an even better version
5. Best drunken debacle which happened to someone else and was hence very amusing instead of mortifying.
I can only think of really bad things, the worst was a friend of a friend who got drunk and went down on a lady of the night (for a long long time). Still makes me boke at thought of it.
Haven’t seen the guy in over ten years so i feel I can share now
My avatar has gone all spazzy.
the same mate i was talking about in my five…..once shat himself when drunk and in his sleep form the shite into a cricket ball sized thing…..he also cover his wall with shitty hand prints
“shat himself when drunk and in his sleep form the shite into a cricket ball sized thing…..he also cover his wall with shitty hand prints”
Easily the funniest thing I’ve heard all day!
1. As soon as I lie down I can pretty much sleep anywhere, so I guess lieing down would be the ritual?
2. Drink enough so you are still a bit tipsy when you wake up, get ready full of beans and the joys of the day. This backfires though as soon as you get into work and the horrible reality of the of being at work with a hangover kicks you in the knackers
3. Any take-away food or a pub meal. It’s the only time I’m not too stingy to shell out the cash, as using some bizarre logic, it feels like I’ve ‘earned it’
4. Chocolate pudding
5. I wasn’t present at this, but it was brought up in the pub earlier in the week., and we all had a good laugh at the ‘victim’ of this debacle. I won’t go into details, all I’ll say is Ladyboy
1. Put on some Harold Budd, drift off.
2. Cold water in the face, a few deep breaths.
3. Egg n’ cheese on toasted bagel + bottle of Orangina (or Purdey’s if in the UK; that stuff is magic)
4. Eggplant parm was always the go-to, but it has since been outed as being ‘not very healthy’.
5. In keeping with the drunken shitting theme: Guy across the hall during freshman year of college def had an issue with getting drunk and going to the bathroom. Having peed into the corner of his closet on several occasions already, one Saturday night found himself in the girls’ wing of the dorm, an unlocked darkened room, and a bed he mistook for the toilet. Left a giant steaming dump in the center of it for the girl to come home to, then stumbled back to his own room and went to sleep. He was immediately fingered as the cuplrit and spent the entirety of the next day laundering the poor girl’s bedding, walking up and down to the laundry room for hours with fistfuls of quarters and a raging shamed hangover. (Why she didn’t just demand new bedding altogether is beyond me but, then, it was college.) A few weeks later he would mistake his windowsill for the toilet and shit out the (4th story) window.
*and yes, the inevitable joke the next day was, “Andy shit the bed!”
1. Ritualistic fantasization about guitarists accompanied by occasional twittering usually does it. Well, and the prescribed medication to turn off the brain.
2. Diet Coke the night before, tho that does nothing for the first problem.
3. Hmmm been years now but I seem to remember it being something to do with fully inhaling.
4. She only made one and I now make it better, mac n’ cheese, the old fashioned, baked in the oven kind.
5. You lot are a bunch of sicko perverts! You’re even making DC look good today. All I’ve got is a crazy former roomate who came home, knees full of gravel, to find that the door to the birdcage was open. After combing the house looking for the stupid parakeet (and applying first aid to her, getting story out if her regarding parking lot drunken debacle) she was just sobering up and collapsing on the sofa when she glanced across the room to the fish tank. There, of course, was floating the dead bird. More than hysterical at this level of tragedy, she stripped off her clothes to a room full of friends (her usual MO -that’s how the parking lot escapade happened) and lie on the floor sobbing demanding more alcohol to ease her pain. Needless to say, we complied, after a few rounds of film with the dead wet bird flung across her beautiful bare breasts (she was a natural redhead, gorgeous skin, mind you). And put on her favorite Tina Turner record which was the only thing that would calm her in these states. I tucked her into bed with the little drowned pet clutched firmly in her grip. The pics were priceless and we showed them to her husband on their wedding day a few years later. He was from of of town
I’m with Tart on this one. Question number five degenerated very quickly into a long, almost encyclopedic list of time people had soiled themselves.
The British are a scarey bunch.
You stay over here with us, sweetie. We’ll keep ya safe with our unconcealed assault weapons and flags as big as the AIDS quilt. You’ve seen how easy those Scots are on terrorists, haven’t ya?
America scares me.
And rightly so. They need to be walled in.
A good honest bed soiling is surely better than snuff animal porn Ben?
The friend I was talking about once passed out on the floor (after 2 straight days ripped to the tits on E) in the middle of the last strains of a party at his massive shared student house (4 floors, 8 bedrooms, 12 people living there). After an hour he woke up with a start & announced loudly he needed to take a piss & exited the room very quickly.
We heard about 5 minutes of crashing & smashing and a few screams & we all raced out to see what it was.
We found him in the previously (locked from the inside) downstairs spare room, that his GF used as her storage room, where 2 partygoers had been in what we could only imagine were the vinegar strokes; he was stood, cock in hand, pissing into the now smashed in, but once locked, warddrobe in said room.
After his girlfriend had finished bitch slapping him we discovered exactly what it was he had been doing: he had been semi-comotosed but all the while subconciously taking in the segment on TV, which was about some company that had come up with floating toilet games (bullseyes, goalposts, etc.) designed to aid/encourage men to aim their piss into the bowl rather than around it.
Something in the back of his drug-addled mind led him to head for what he thought was a toilet with one of these floating games in.
That was when we all discovered that the warddobe he had smashed into was full of “outfits” his girlfriend would wear for him in their kinkier moments & the thing he was aiming his piss at was the red cross in a white circle on the pocket of a patent leather pink ‘dirty nurse’ dress.
1. The ending tune to Robot Chicken is the current cue to go to sleep.
2. Eat Something like toast, ginger ale w/ice, cold shower and keep moving. Mota, if you can pull it off, also works really well.
3. More sleep is the best hangover treat.
4. Jellies and preserves on big bread slices.
5. Driving on the LIE with 5 people in the car who were all drinking (1992). Cops begin to follow the car and eventually go lights and sirens. Driver panics and jumps out of his seat and into the back with us, unfortunately we are still moving @ highway speed. Through the chaos one backseat passenger grabs the wheel and guides the coasting vehicle to the side of the highway. Trooper walks up to the window, looks in, scans all the faces and says’ “YOU, OUT OF THE CAR” Can’t figure out how he knew which one of us was driving. We still laugh about George crying in handcuffs, and the rest of us trying to get a cab to pick us up on the shoulder of the LIE.
Americans scares me.
For the purposes of todays debate I will be Canadian.
Actually, the constants self-soiling action is less terrifying than DC’s friend denying a girl a chance at a decent future and condemning her to a life with education or prospects of a better life.
Amurika scares me too.
Is the wall to keep us in or everyone else out?
both andrew, both
1. “If I’m still awake in an hour I’m getting up”.
2. Just do it. Having an alarm that goes off stupidly early that you have to switch off before it wakes anyone else. Knowing that if you miss that one train you’re going to be pushing it to be on time.
3. Bacon sandwiched in french toast.
4. So far as hangovers were concerned, unmitigated scorn. Otherwise, shepherds’ pid.
5. (With apologies, but I though of this immediately before reading all the other soiling oneself stories) My friend Nic remembers finishing a bottle of vodka in the kitchen at a party, and then remembers waking up the next morning in the garden. He started walking home and bumped into another friend on the way. “Nic, you look a state… oh my god, Nic, you’ve shat yourself”. “No, no I haven’t, I wouldn’t do that.” He shat himself and didn’t know.
4 should be ‘pie’ obviously. I’m already worrying about what shepherds’ pid might be.
Once you shit yourself in public you’ll never be lacking for an amusing anecdote. To make true art, however, one must choose one’s fecal forum with care. Here’s to the man who soils himself in Times Square, lo one New Years Eve.
Adam, having only one train you can possibly catch does focus the mind very well indeed.
All these soiling stories just make me wonder. I drink far, far too much far, far too often and I have never ever come close to soiling myself. How the hell do you ever get that bad? That’s fucking Olympic levels of self-harm. I horsed an entire bottle of gin in one night the other night an was no more than ‘really quite’ drunk. How much do you have to polish off to actually shit yourself?
I imagine it’s not so much the booze as what one eats before drinking it. Have you ever “horsed an entire bottle of gin” after downing a box of fig newtons?
For the love of Dog! I’ve never realized what a common “attribute” this is, nor what a fascination it holds for people. Even in my brief but successful alcoholic career I never came close to such heights, as Matthew reports. Are we perhaps some super race of spirit-guzzlers that perfected, early on, the truly professional path to gargantuan consumption? I’m beginning to think, yes, yes we are. I’m also starting to think this is a male trait. But don’t disabuse me of this idea. I really don’t want to hear your horror stories of women you’ve dated or shagged who’ve been your shitting equals! Thanks, but no thanks, darlings, just please make it stop. xoxo
I like rhododendrons.
I just remembered a truly gross story I was told by a friend about a an utterly pissed friend of his guy who ended up in hospital after shagging this equally pissed woman up the Gary in a carpark of a nightclub in the Welsh Valleys. But I won’t tell because Tart might implode.
That scans well, doesn’t it? Now that’s hangovers for you…
http://forwardbutton.blogspot.com/2007/08/priceless-photos.html
Theres all the evidence anyone needs here.
I just thought I’d say that a cheese and onion crisp sandwich is the best hangover food. Ever.
NOM NOM NOM NOM
I bet Ben Dover names some character in his next film Matthew or Toad……