Sunday, November 18, 2007


... of my life, for the five billionth time.

And what better time than when your long-lost childhood friend appears from nowhere so you head for the bright lights of London where you don't just drink him under the table, you manage to knock back a small distillery's worth of booze without flinching while he spends the dying hours of the evening with his fist down his throat in a vain attempt to vomit it all out.

My Evening's Substance Abuse Tally

Lagers: 5
Whiskey chasers (neat): 4
Whiskey and cokes: 3
Mojitos: 2
Strawberry beer: 1
Snakebite & Black: 1
Sambucas: 1
Unidentified shots: 1
Cigarettes: 30 (approx)
Cocaine: 6

Now don't get me wrong. I am not proud of this. My tally is not meant to be an idle boast, but a worrying indication - as I shocked myself recalling this list - that I should probably buy a puppy and spend all my money on dog food instead. Not only do I find this record vaguely disturbing, I'm also concerned by the fact that after I chucked it down my neck or up my nostrils, all I suffered from was a mild slurring of speech. I am also pretty sure that I was undoubtedly a devilishly witty raconteur and bon vivant to all who encountered me last night.

This morning, Steve and I went to a cafe for breakfast. While I threw an omelette down my gullet, Steve held his head in his hands and apologised profusely for his state. I simply pointed at his untouched toast and asked him if he wanted it.
He didn't.


He then ran out of the cafe and threw up behind the Qantas building.

Steve did say he enjoyed himself, once he regained his equilibrium. Apparently, he barely drinks now that he's married with two kids, and wants to do this again immediately. I tried to remind him that I'm not living in a fantastic bachelor's paradise and that I actually want to change my ways.
A lot.
One day.

But that's really not going to happen, let's be honest. Basically, I need a meet a woman to retrain me. I am quite happy to submit to whatever she wants, churn out a small family of whinging bastards, then die.

Life. Tschh.


Z said...

So, the just say no! campaign didn't quite sink in, then?

Seriously though, whiskey and coke is an appalling drink and I'm shocked to read that you drank three of them.

fwengebola said...

Hey, it worked when I was a kid.
It's a damn fine drink when you go home and you've got a bottle of both of them waiting to adulterate each other.

Anonymous said...

Tsk tsk, Fweng. *insert self-righteously judgmental look here*

British Gal Does Tokyo said...

Fweng: drink more, think less

Wotcha Jerkhat said...

Too rainy to work today so pulled a sickie and spliffed it away. Word Verification: Jerkhat.
I kid you not x

Peach said...

ha ha good going dude! although just one time I will have to hear/read/see you being as wankered as your drinking companion, if only to prove you are human

luna said...

Unfathomable.You go through all that stuff and surface fresh as a daisy,while at the exact same time I have a dodgy chicken soup and am instantly laid up for days suffering protracted death throes.

You must be part of a genetic experiment,what with your obscure,confuse origins.
Otherwise God's not fair and a man.

fwengebola said...

LFM ~ I'm so, so sorry.
BGDT ~ Sage.
WJ ~ I'm afraid I don't approve. The work would pile up and be left for me if I wasn't in, and I don't smoke drugs. I inject.
Peach ~ I am human. I'm just very, very good at appearing sober. Trust me, the facade can get wonky.
Luna ~ Of course God's a man, and a typical bastard. Tschh. Don't ask me why I can imbibe more. Size, possibly.
Peach ~