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  • 2 weeks later...

Today has been an absolute fucking monstrosity.

 

Went out with some mates for a Japanese last night, all going well with the Sapporo flowing freely and cracking grub.  Ordered a few vessels of sake when all still coherent, then just completely lost track at some point and kept buying more.

 

After going to some pubs and back to a gathering where my mate's wife's family live for beer and whiskey, I ended stopping in to a bar 5 minutes from mine for a nightcap, and after bumping into an old acquaintance joined him and his mates in someone I don't knows flat for a supposed house party, having what became an increasingly spiky exchange with some tit under the impression he could browbeat me into drawing out loads of cash to buy them all twat powder.  Ended up telling him he was fat and ginger with an extra chromosome and just walked home, last thing I remember is her having a go at me for slamming doors and where had I been. 

 

Today began at 15:00 and has been spent spewing and feeling like I've gone partially blind.  An immense hangover to the extent the dog has kept to the other side of the room, looking at me as though I've been invaded by an evil spirit, which in a manner of speaking I probably have.  She got back a little while ago from a mates, and said when she left around 16:00 I was sat down eyes closed in the bath with the shower trained on me, slumped and unable to keep my own head up like a tired old dog.  Now wide awake like it's morning but still feeling sick as a pike.

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I'm at my brother's house, ostensibly for his upcoming 50th birthday, but really because I want a bit of family time, on the 3rd anniversary of my mum's death and the first anniversary of the cunting bastard aneurism that took a week to kill my sister. I have drunk all I need. My spelling and grammar is still impeccable, you dog fuckers.

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Went to a Hungarian/Brazilian/Italian wedding yesterday. Ace although Brazilian men do seem to cry a lot (and it's a bit embarrassing trying to dance anywhere near a Brazilian, they make you look shit). Anyway finished the evening decking a bottle of palinka with the groom and his brother. I feel fucking terriible this morning

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Defo sounds like he was suffering from a serious cocaine hangover there. He must have sniffed all of Fat Ginge's beak and then refused to chip in for any more.

Chance would be a fine thing mate, it bizarrely cuts a huge chunk out of any hangover for me.

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Without sounding like an old lush we used to go to the pub on a Thursday night, have 8 pints then back in around 4 on a Friday. Meet for footy at 1 then in the pub from 5 til 11 then Bredbury Hall till 4. Back in the pub at 1 on a Sunday and there till closing.

 

Now I have 2 large bottles of Peroni, am pissed by the start of the 2nd and so times struggle to finish it. Fucking light weight.

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It used to help me with hangovers too but they're killing me these days. Anything over 8 beers and the following day is pretty much a write off. Throw some of that into the equation and I'm in even deeper trouble. I'm 26 and it's starting to feel like I'm too old for drinking. Bad times. What would I do for fun?

That shit always just froze the ensuing hangover at a certain place for me so I only ever felt a bit tired. Its like a cheat on a computer game.

 

There's definitely a trade-off though, as when it carries on too long into the next day(s) - all but inevitable - instead of a standard hangover you end up like Super Hans when he's honked too much crack; wired, grey, feverish, staring at the walls in bright sunshine and having ridiculously contrasting thoughts such as "What would my grandparents think if they could see me at this exact moment?" and "I wonder if it's possible to squeeze a wank out to Beryl Reid?"

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Today has been an absolute fucking monstrosity.

 

Went out with some mates for a Japanese last night, all going well with the Sapporo flowing freely and cracking grub.  Ordered a few vessels of sake when all still coherent, then just completely lost track at some point and kept buying more.

 

After going to some pubs and back to a gathering where my mate's wife's family live for beer and whiskey, I ended stopping in to a bar 5 minutes from mine for a nightcap, and after bumping into an old acquaintance joined him and his mates in someone I don't knows flat for a supposed house party, having what became an increasingly spiky exchange with some tit under the impression he could browbeat me into drawing out loads of cash to buy them all twat powder.  Ended up telling him he was fat and ginger with an extra chromosome and just walked home, last thing I remember is her having a go at me for slamming doors and where had I been. 

 

Today began at 15:00 and has been spent spewing and feeling like I've gone partially blind.  An immense hangover to the extent the dog has kept to the other side of the room, looking at me as though I've been invaded by an evil spirit, which in a manner of speaking I probably have.  She got back a little while ago from a mates, and said when she left around 16:00 I was sat down eyes closed in the bath with the shower trained on me, slumped and unable to keep my own head up like a tired old dog.  Now wide awake like it's morning but still feeling sick as a pike.

 

Yeah, sorry about that.

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We had a preseason friendly of the unmentionable Wednesday. Jimmer had been in court that morning and somehow was found not guilty on a GBH and intent to supply charge.

 

Was on pints of thatchers and red wine, coke, pills and MDMA from lunch time and turned up for the unmentionable in a state that was rather impressive. He put his boots on the wrong feet, headed a goal post when the ball was no where near him, threw up and walked off the pitch after 20 minutes.

 

By the time the second half started, he'd gone for a shower, got a couple of pints and was stood at the side of the pitch right as rain shouting abuse at everyone. 

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We had a preseason friendly of the unmentionable Wednesday. Jimmer had been in court that morning and somehow was found not guilty on a GBH and intent to supply charge.

 

Was on pints of thatchers and red wine, coke, pills and MDMA from lunch time and turned up for the unmentionable in a state that was rather impressive. He put his boots on the wrong feet, headed a goal post when the ball was no where near him, threw up and walked off the pitch after 20 minutes.

 

By the time the second half started, he'd gone for a shower, got a couple of pints and was stood at the side of the pitch right as rain shouting abuse at everyone. 

 

That's fucking brilliant!

 

Not long before I met wor lass I had a Saturday like that which went through to last thing Sunday night, with a bird I used to knock off donkey's years ago, before I went home as I was starting a new job the following morning.  Halfway through the classic awful, tired, corporate induction day all us newbies were having together, the woman running it said to me, "Excuse me, why have you come for your first days work wearing odd shoes?"  I thought I'd done so well to get up, go in and style out how rotten I was.

 

Having said this, I got the job after interviewing in a similar fashion, thankfully with a friend of a friend, having been at a party the night before that ran through til morning.  I remember him reaching over and touching my arm to make me stop speaking when I replied "Still tempted to move back to London, don't see myself as being very settled here currently, not really into banking, to be honest" in response to the staple "Where do you see yourself in five years time?"  He just quietely moved onto the next question with a constipated expression.  What a fucking hero to do that for someone he'd never met.

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I had 6 pints and a whole litre bottle of JD about a month ago. Stayed in bed for 24 hours the day after, apart from going the toilet. Was sick through my nose when I went the bog.

 

I haven't been able to face having a bourbon since so I've been on the rum. Just poured myself a maker's mark though and it's still fantastic. I've got a load of those 330ml cans of Heineken in, loads of bourbon and rum and the lads coming round in a bit to watch the unspeakable.

 

I will update this thread tomorrow.

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Hangovers are fucking horrible and they get worse and worse for me. 

 

I reckon it's the smoking. I'm a sucker for smoking when i'm drunk, i'm like  chimney. Funny things is I hardly ever smoke sober. Loads of times i've tried to go a night on the ale without smoking just to see if the hangovers bad but I always end up lighting one 

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Hangovers are fucking horrible and they get worse and worse for me. 

 

I reckon it's the smoking. I'm a sucker for smoking when i'm drunk, i'm like  chimney. Funny things is I hardly ever smoke sober. Loads of times i've tried to go a night on the ale without smoking just to see if the hangovers bad but I always end up lighting one 

 

No two ways about it Stig.  You feel poisoned the following day rather than just beaten up and queasy.

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Hangovers are fucking horrible and they get worse and worse for me. 

 

I reckon it's the smoking. I'm a sucker for smoking when i'm drunk, i'm like  chimney. Funny things is I hardly ever smoke sober. Loads of times i've tried to go a night on the ale without smoking just to see if the hangovers bad but I always end up lighting one

 

same as me. Can smoke maybe one cig all week, then do 20 on a Saturday night.

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Went to a Hungarian/Brazilian/Italian wedding yesterday. Ace although Brazilian men do seem to cry a lot (and it's a bit embarrassing trying to dance anywhere near a Brazilian, they make you look shit). Anyway finished the evening decking a bottle of palinka with the groom and his brother. I feel fucking terriible this morning

The phrase "a bottle of palinka" is usually followed, before long, by "I feel fucking terrible".

 

May the Lord have mercy on your soul.

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