Is that bottle half empty?? Half full??
Well, it's EMPTY now!
Actually, I honestly don't think I'm an alcoholic - I'm just a little bit obsessive compulsive in some respects (eccentrically, self-destructively so, perhaps).
Sunday, March 04, 2007
The alcoholic's concept of "tidying up"
Did you notice that dangerous statistic in the last post - 8.5 bottles of rum drunk last night?
Is that bottle half empty?? Half full??
Is that bottle half empty?? Half full??
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11 comments:
24 hours too late, I'm stumbling in late, hungover myself. Any chance of a coffee? Pass me that drying-up cloth. Let's open the windows to shift the stench of all-too-recent party.
Any sign of prawn curries, Paul?
Man - I can't believe I missed it. And I never knew Havana Club made white rum as well as dark, or are my eyes deceiving me?
Unfortunately this weekend I was a) sick; b) with a 7 year old and c) dog sitting in a house without knwoing your blog address. So that explains my absence.
It looks like all went well...
Ah, there you are, Cowboy. Better late than never.
I don't think I've ever seen DARK Havana Club. Not over here, anyway. Surely most brands of rum come in both colours (and often 'gold' as well)? I fear this one may be a dodgy counterfeit, though - we get a lot of that out here. Tried some the other day and it tasted..... well, weak, watered-down.
However, it was contributed by a very cute girl called Sam, so I will cherish it anyway.
Minding the hounds for Erik & Sheila again, huh? Hope all's well with them.
And by "prawn curries", Mr A, I assume you mean vomit?
I find that a particularly disgusting euphemism because, as you know, I am allergic to seafood....
No - in that ONE respect, at least - everyone was terribly well-behaved. It really wasn't such a hard-drinking party: I think there were only about half a dozen of us who were "going for it".
One and the same: it refers back to an incident where you denied all knowledge or ownership of a recycled prawn curry on your college room floor, saying "it can't be mine, I'm alergic to prawns".
The weight of opinion was that (a) it probably had been yours, albeit temporarily (b) dutch courage had made you eat it and (c) the "allergy" had triggered the rejection.
Translate in Latin (10 marks).
Ah, THAT....
It was after the Tankies' Troop Dinner, where I had rashly decided to test out the limits of my (then little-explored) seafood sensitivity by eating some the prawn cocktail starter. I later used that as an excuse for the appalling misbehaviour of my stomach later that night; but in all honesty, it was alcohol-poisoning, pure and simple: 'boat race' team drinking competitions with the champagne punch at the start of the evening, and down-in-one challenges throughout the dinner (you remember all too well what the OTC was like - you got me into it in the first place!); crazy, crazy, life-threatening stuff. That's one aspect of youth I'm not so regretful to have left behind.
The major component of my redecorative splurge was, in fact, strawberries. I think it was Owen who started that whole 'prawn curry' thing, but it just ain't so.
Of course, the key detail of the story - for me, at least - was that this happened on the penultimate day of term, and that I had (FOR ONCE) completed my final essay for term, well in advance, with meticulous scholarship - but it did not escape the Mr Creosote-like hosing of my room with projectile vomit.... so I had to cry off my last tutorial, after all. Most embarrassing!
This is the tragedy of word processing. No longer can one use the excuse "I'm sorry, I vommed on my essay" to get out of a tutorial.
Very true, Cowboy.
I also mourn for the loss of the randomness in our social lives back then; there is a strange joy in wandering about knocking on people's doors on the off chance, or staking out likely bars hoping they'll show up. E-mail and the mobile phone have killed that age of innocence.
A final rum note: my chef's tipple in the kitchen was a bottle of Bacardi Dark. I pretty much finished it off. Keith Floyd would be proud of me!
But given that there were only 3 places any of us drank with any regularity and they were within a very short walk of each other, it wasn't that much of a risk to take just to wander around until you found someone.
And with some of us (I'm looking at you, Billy Joe Jim Bob), it was more a question of in which chair he would be found, rather than at which bar.
Yes, I thought YOU might say that. JJJB (or James the Nags, as he likes to call himself these days.... is that a reference to what he puts up with from his other half?? No, no, it's his weakness for the horses, obviously...) and yourself were far more reliably Union-centric than me. Believe it or not, I hardly ever went there in the evenings - although there were long spells when you could find me there almost every lunchtime, playing cards or backgammon. There were probably at least 10 or 12 pubs around town I used fairly frequently during my student days, many more occasionally, and a number of college bars (rarely my own) that enjoyed passing spells of fashionability.
Yes, randomness and variety had a siren-appeal for me.... even before I discovered the Diceman.
Billy Jo...? I thought your trailer-trash nickname for him had always been JIMMY JO Jimbob!
Consistency is important to a lawyer, Cowboy.
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