I got one word for you.
Ouzo.
At 18 I was in Greece celebrating some festival with my SO at the time and some friends. I had never had Ouzo before that, but I was in Greece and everyone else was drinking it.
Bad, bad idea. My only experience with missing time and my first hangover, which was so bad I could feel my hair grow…and it hurt.
Ouzo is my enemy. The smell of it is enough to send me screaming from the room. I can’t even cook with it anymore.
I’m with Medea’s Child. A nice buzz is plenty, thank you. Though apparently I promised someone I’d let them get me trashed on my 21st…we’ll see.
Well, eirroc, I cannot remember my first drunken experience (makes sense, doesn’t it?), but I do remember the first technicolor yawn I did from drinking, and yes, it was the dreaded JD, and yes, I cannot catch a whiff of it to this day without wanting to puke all over again. It’s been 25 years, too (I was 14). I’ve often said when I die, I want people to celebrate my life instead of mourning my death, but there will be no JD at the party. 'Cuz I’m sure if I get the slightest waft of it I’ll rise from the dead to puke all over again.
Another thing I’ll never, ever put in my body again is grain alcohol. You know that punch stuff they make in college? - we called it Hairy Buffalo, some folks call it Jungle Juice or some other such … it’s basically a vat of Hawaiian Punch, fruit and grain alcohol. That one got me coming and going (literally). It’s really sad when you can’t figure out which end to put over the toilet. I finally sat on the can and puked in the sink. If you run across this stuff - do NOT eat the fruit that’s in it, no matter what, I don’t care what they say!
mnemosyne said:
LOL! Oddly this is one of my favorite drinks! I just had one last night! Add a little grenadine and you have a pretty pink drink called a Bombay Cooler. But don’t mind me - half my taste buds were probably killed by the big Hairy B …
My evil drunk story comes in college my sophomore year. There were many overindulgences since then, but this one is the most vivid in my scarred mind.
I went to school at Claremont McKenna College in LA, bout 2 1/2 hours drive from Tijuana. A bunch of us went down there, and I don’t remember a whole lot except rum drinks and numerous exotic dancers doing disgusting things with patrons’ beer bottles. [blackout]
[/blackout] The next morning I awoke in my bed to hear the birds chirping (damn, those devilspawn birds). I smelled some foul mexican food, and opened my eyes to see a half eaten Naugles (Mexican fast food, better than the Bell) burrito sitting on my chest. I willed my immediate gag reflex into submission, temporarily. At that moment, a friend who came with us bounded into the room. I don’t know how he was not as dead is I was, since he had just as much of the demon-rum as I.
He looked at me and said “Dude!! You didn’t finish your burrito.” and grabs it and tears a large bite from it.
That’s what put me over the edge.
Ugh. I’m going to my happy place right now.
I wuz 12 and drank something like two litres of gin straight.
I then got dragged comatose to the hospital by my parents to have my stomach pumped as I had blood alcohol poisoning. I never really even had a hangover, and haven’t to this day . .
There’s no justice in this world at all. And I can still drink gin - I’m a survivor by nature I guess!
Purplesaurus Rex Kool-Aid and Rum. My parents went north to their cabin, and I invited some friends over. We ended up putting a hole in kitchen wall, scraping larges tracks out of the linoluem floor, and made a big mess of the place. I used play-doh to cover the hole in the wall, painted over the tracks on the floor, and refilled the bottle of rum with water. My parents never found out. I told them about 5 years later after they had moved to their new house.
First time I ever really regretted drinking…
First year in uni, stayed up 'til five in the morning with one of my flatmates, both of us drinking a three litre bottle of cider and half a bottle of malt whiskey (Tomatin).
Wouldn’t have been a problem except that at 9am my parents turned up, unannounced, to take me with them on a visit to me brother’s house sixty miles away. Eventually the illness and pain just turned into disbelief that I was still alive.
I was 15. My late, lamented best friend David called me one Weds. night and said, “Dude, Mom and Dad just left for church (more than an hour away). Come over and let’s get drunk.”
I went. We broke into his dad’s liquor cabinet and found 17 bottles of Crown Royal. His dad’s company gave employees a bottle every xmas, and his dad didn’t drink.
We opened a bottle, drank and talked. Pretty soon. That bottle was dead and we felt no different. We opened another. Same story. Into the third bottle, we started catching a buzz. Inside of 15 minutes that buzz had gained momentum and was breaking over the bows of our consciousness like a life raft in a hurricane. Much (we thought) hilarity ensued. Around 10, we’d tidied the place and I left to walk home (3.5 miles away).
I made it safely, went into the house, walked upstairs, flopped down in bed (after my nice, long, 3.5 mile drunken walk home on a warm spring night), got the spins, managed to hit the wastebasket next to the bed and passed out cold.
Dad was not amused in the morning when he came in to wake me up for school, and I STILL can’t drink Crown. didn’t drink anything for five years after that, either. Now, though, I’ve become one of those lucky bastards who can drink anything and (nearly) everything and not wake up with a hangover.
[hijack] This thread gave me the weirdest craving for coolaid. So now I’m sitting here at 8 am in the morning, drinking my grape coolaid. Thanks Arisu and Kvallulf.
[/hijack]
Black Russians (vodka and Kahlua). Did five of these at lunch while working for Alexander’s as a stock boy during college. I remember I had to walk through a park to get back to work. I remember the trees were pulsating and had this weird purple glow around them.
Somehow I finished that day and got home. Don’t remember how, though.
Sheltered life. It was just last summer. Sure I’d had alcohol before but never gotten drunk. I was at my sister the bartender’s house in Mississippi watchign a WWF pay per view with a bunch of her friends and my brother in law.
Between 8pm and 2am, I downed at least 7 Mike’s Hard Lemonades, 2 shots of tequila, 17 shots of Sour Apple Pucker, 5 buttery nipples, half a Gator, and some kind of pink thing that they sell only at one particular bar in New Orleans. There might have been more. I forget precisely because it was months ago. Only visible effect was a pronounced stagger when I walked into my bedroom to go to sleep. I actually went online at around midnight and had an intelligent conversation with my friends.