I contemplated writing this post while drunk, just for something different, but it's only 10.30 on a Monday morning. Oh wait...perfectly good excuse to drink! Especially when you wake up with a rotten cold, sore throat and headache. I couldn't feel any worse, could I? Hmmm...on second thought, I'll stick to tea.
The thing is, I don't really enjoy that drunken feeling. I don't tolerate alcohol well. One or two drinks are OK. I feel relaxed and pleasant. However, if I make the mistake of pushing on to a third or fourth drink, it very quickly goes to my head. I detest that seasick, head-whirling sensation. Consequently I've never made a habit of getting drunk.
I've noticed that other people can drink and drink and drink AND DRINK and it seemingly doesn't effect them. No such luck for me. Sigh.
But let's get back to the story of the one and only time I wasshit-faced slightly intoxicated.
Picture it. The Hunter Valley, 1992. A young 21 year old Ness with a poodle perm, wearing a body suit with high-waisted jeans. I went away for a Rotaract Wine Weekend.
Those were 'the olden days', as my boys call them. There was no internet. You couldn't meet people through such classy things as Tinder, so you joined something like Rootaract instead. Oops, I mean Rotaract. And you joined because you really cared about making a difference through community service. Yep. Totally for that reason. If you also met people and made friends, that was just a bonus. Ahem.
There was a bunch of us rotaractors who went away to this particular 'Wine Weekend', including Mickey Blue Eyes, but we weren't a couple at that point. (I think it was on this occasion, or one of the other wine weekends, when Mickey managed to be drunk the for the duration of the whole weekend while only drinking diet coke. A sign that we would make a groundbreaking, avant garde couple, if ever there was one).
But back to my being drunk story. My friend Kim and I took a peculiar liking to this vile, sickly sweet wine called Tyrrell's Blanquette. There is a photo floating around somewhere of the two of us proudly holding our packs of this beverage, but a) I would have to find it ; and b) Kim would probably kill me if I posted it here. So you are spared this vision.
Such a shame, because if I recall things correctly, I had ditched the high-waisted jeans for this occasion. Instead I was wearing a most fetching headband and brown jumper combo with stirrup pants. Yep, I've always been a smoking hawt, cutting edge, fashion icon. Try not to be jealous.
The point is, we drank rather a lot of this wine and were quite merry. After a day spent wine tasting, we all arrived back at the Caravan park where we were staying.The drinking and merriment continued.Well, as merry as it gets for some one as quiet as me. Shut up.
Then, inevitably, we had to visit the bathroom. So myself, Kim and my other friend Pam, wandered off to the ladies toilets in the caravan park, giggling like the silly young things we were. I managed to go to the loo without any incidents. Then, as I was waiting for Kimmy and Pammy, I suddenly decided it would be a tremendous idea to have a good lie down. Right there. In the public toilets. Of a grotty caravan park in the Hunter Valley.
So Kim and Pam emerged from the loo to behold me resplendent in a starfish position on the floor. Classy.
The next morning we were all a bit seedy. We trudged to the reception office where they had a shop to purchase paracetamol for our pounding heads.
"Not feeling too well, are we ladies?" The gentleman behind the counter asked dryly. There may have been some requests from other patrons to keep the noise down. Not that it was me making noise. Even alcohol doesn't make me 'come out of my shell'. But it does make me do starfish impersonations. I like to be different.We sheepishly mumbled something and slunk away with our drugs.
As the years ambled on, I looked back on this incident and kind of dismissed it with a "Wasn't I cute when I was a bit tipsy" thought. I considered that I'd never really been drunk in my whole life.
But then I thought about it some more. I do tend to overthink stupid, pointless things. Hang on a minute, I thought, I did a starfish impersonation on a grotty public toilet floor. EW. Yep, I was certainly shit-faced.
So there you have it. The one and only time Nesski has ever been drunk. Unless you count right now, because I just referred to myself in the third person, so clearly I'm drunk. And I lurrrve youse all! Thankshs for reading...!!!*hiccups*
Linking up for I Must Confess
When was the first time you were drunk?
I've never been much of a drinker, unless you count tea. And I do. It's totally addictive for me. Plus it leads to harder, more sinister addictions. It's serious, people. First it's an innocent cup of tea, then suddenly it's progressed to tea AND cake. Shocking.
Anyway, what was the point of this post? Oh yes, I was going to entertain you with the scintillating details of the first and only time I got drunk.Yep, I'm SUCH a party animal. There was only once. I've been tipsy many times, but pissed? Not really.
The thing is, I don't really enjoy that drunken feeling. I don't tolerate alcohol well. One or two drinks are OK. I feel relaxed and pleasant. However, if I make the mistake of pushing on to a third or fourth drink, it very quickly goes to my head. I detest that seasick, head-whirling sensation. Consequently I've never made a habit of getting drunk.
I've noticed that other people can drink and drink and drink AND DRINK and it seemingly doesn't effect them. No such luck for me. Sigh.
But let's get back to the story of the one and only time I was
Picture it. The Hunter Valley, 1992. A young 21 year old Ness with a poodle perm, wearing a body suit with high-waisted jeans. I went away for a Rotaract Wine Weekend.
Those were 'the olden days', as my boys call them. There was no internet. You couldn't meet people through such classy things as Tinder, so you joined something like Rootaract instead. Oops, I mean Rotaract. And you joined because you really cared about making a difference through community service. Yep. Totally for that reason. If you also met people and made friends, that was just a bonus. Ahem.
There was a bunch of us rotaractors who went away to this particular 'Wine Weekend', including Mickey Blue Eyes, but we weren't a couple at that point. (I think it was on this occasion, or one of the other wine weekends, when Mickey managed to be drunk the for the duration of the whole weekend while only drinking diet coke. A sign that we would make a groundbreaking, avant garde couple, if ever there was one).
 |
| Me circa early 1990s |
But back to my being drunk story. My friend Kim and I took a peculiar liking to this vile, sickly sweet wine called Tyrrell's Blanquette. There is a photo floating around somewhere of the two of us proudly holding our packs of this beverage, but a) I would have to find it ; and b) Kim would probably kill me if I posted it here. So you are spared this vision.
Such a shame, because if I recall things correctly, I had ditched the high-waisted jeans for this occasion. Instead I was wearing a most fetching headband and brown jumper combo with stirrup pants. Yep, I've always been a smoking hawt, cutting edge, fashion icon. Try not to be jealous.
The point is, we drank rather a lot of this wine and were quite merry. After a day spent wine tasting, we all arrived back at the Caravan park where we were staying.The drinking and merriment continued.Well, as merry as it gets for some one as quiet as me. Shut up.
Then, inevitably, we had to visit the bathroom. So myself, Kim and my other friend Pam, wandered off to the ladies toilets in the caravan park, giggling like the silly young things we were. I managed to go to the loo without any incidents. Then, as I was waiting for Kimmy and Pammy, I suddenly decided it would be a tremendous idea to have a good lie down. Right there. In the public toilets. Of a grotty caravan park in the Hunter Valley.
So Kim and Pam emerged from the loo to behold me resplendent in a starfish position on the floor. Classy.
The next morning we were all a bit seedy. We trudged to the reception office where they had a shop to purchase paracetamol for our pounding heads.
"Not feeling too well, are we ladies?" The gentleman behind the counter asked dryly. There may have been some requests from other patrons to keep the noise down. Not that it was me making noise. Even alcohol doesn't make me 'come out of my shell'. But it does make me do starfish impersonations. I like to be different.We sheepishly mumbled something and slunk away with our drugs.
As the years ambled on, I looked back on this incident and kind of dismissed it with a "Wasn't I cute when I was a bit tipsy" thought. I considered that I'd never really been drunk in my whole life.
But then I thought about it some more. I do tend to overthink stupid, pointless things. Hang on a minute, I thought, I did a starfish impersonation on a grotty public toilet floor. EW. Yep, I was certainly shit-faced.
So there you have it. The one and only time Nesski has ever been drunk. Unless you count right now, because I just referred to myself in the third person, so clearly I'm drunk. And I lurrrve youse all! Thankshs for reading...!!!*hiccups*
Linking up for I Must Confess
When was the first time you were drunk?
