quote: A 21-year-old Perth man is lucky to be alive after having his stomach ripped open during a beer-skolling game using a home-made device powered by an electric pump.
The drinking game at a 21st birthday party in a southern suburb 10 days ago went badly wrong, rupturing the man's stomach and forcing beer straight into his abdomen.
The man, who is in St John of God Hospital in Murdoch and spent a week in intensive care fighting for his life, was among a group of friends at a private party who used the device.
Is it just me, or does "St John of God Hospital in Murdoch" sound like something out of Brass Eye.
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I accidentally saw an interview on BBC local (London) news that was clearly directed by Chris Morris. The wannabe-Paxman presented swivelled excitedly between Head of London Trains and Random Bloke at Charing Cross- "he says YOU have dirty trains!"....."he says YOU make the trains dirty!" It was embarrassing.
-------------------- What I object to is the colour of some of these wheelie bins and where they are left, in some areas outside all week in the front garden. Posts: 4941
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oh really? This is a proper Guiness & Cava earthquake of a hangover. I feel like my eyeballs are about to burst out of my head, but that wouldn't be so bad if it could relieve the cranial pressure that is rendering me almost deaf. Everything is swimming and I can't turn my head without wanting to vomit, yet I've been awake and drinking tea and water for four hours now. I've got the shakes, my eyes are blood red and I don't think that I'm ever going to recover. Ever. In fact, it's getting worse as the morning progresses.
[ 15.12.2004, 06:06: Message edited by: Dr. Benway ]
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If your hangovers teamed up and got in the ring with my hangover you wouldn't last a fucking round, you soft bastards. I'm telling you, this one's fucking nails. Just sit down, sunshine.
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My hangover is quite small, but distressing. I've already eaten a smoked salmon and cream cheese beigel - should I eat some macaroni cheese as well, or is that just taking the piss? Will I do a sick into my bin? Would that be at all funny, or just vile? Once I ate macaroni cheese and did a sick into the sink in our bathroom. I was only a little girl so it was ok, and I didn't have to clear it up. My dad did, but hours - maybe even days - later. That's grody. What's the best sick you ever did, forum? My first ever alcohol-related sick was rather classy - I sicked Martini sick out of the window on a train back from a party the next day, but the sick got blown against the window so we had to sit there looking at my sick on the window all the way back to Bromley. Which was nice. This other time my parents were driving me and Uber to see our other sister up in Leeds. We were all singing along to my dad's Queen CD - I was still drunk - and then I quickly unwound the window and sicked up out of it. The best bit was the way the car behind - which had been totally riding our tail - suddenly dropped back as the sick hit his windscreen. Transport sicks! The very best kind. Posts: 6175
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Louche
Carved TMO on her clit just to make you feel bad
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I've got prickle goosebump shivers alternating with swamping hot flushes, a headache concentrated in the base of my skull yet expanding spider fingers of pain every time I so much as think about moving faster than a tortoise with slowness disease and a complexion the white-grey of underwear washed in Ecover-not-very-good-but-environmentally-friendly washing powder. I am alsoin work which makes my hangover stratospherically worse, and I am in work solely because said hangover is completely attributable to work's do. Three people have called in sick. Two have said sorry, blatant hangover, book it as leave. One, who was last seen crooning in a karioke bar in Deansgate with the guy from Business Management, is claiming 'migraine'.
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The best/worst Alcohol related vomiting I've encountered was probably when I attended my grandfather's cremation. The night before, I went out drinking with my Welsh cousin, and suffered at the hands of what my uncle described as a "bad pint". The puking started first thing in the morning, but I didn't want to do it in the house so that my aunt, uncle etc could hear. I went outside to find a discreet hedge, but I couldn't, and before I knew it, I'd puked chips all over their neighbour's drive. Whatever. I went back in the house, and lay down in bed, but I had to get up to be sick another two or three times, so that I no longer had anything left in my stomach. Still feeling like death, I put on my suit for the funeral, and after one last small retch, I got in the car. The neighbour was hosing down his drive. My uncle drove to the funeral.
I was sick every twenty minutes until five o'clock in the evening. Sick during the funeral, the wake, everything. After exhausting my bile, I ended up bringing up this bitter white foam, and I'd retched so much that my whole upper body was burning. I seemed to stay locked at the very moment of puking for hours, bent over, face frozen. That was a truly, truly dark day.
I was about nineteen or twenty when that happened, and since then I've had that kind of violent reaction about ten times. It feels like something beyond a hangover, and it is the worst I have ever felt in my life.
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Feels like you've got something alive inside your head? Something big, maybe a giraffe. Calm down, boy. My gulliver is Noah's fucking ark in a storm. They're having a disco in there. It's the Christmas season and, guess what, they're not used to it. No code at all. Baboons humping hippos, howling wolves on the karaoke like a proper pair of pricks. There's two elephants spit roasting an ostrich. And it's all going on in a bloody great wooden boat, being tossed around my cage like a fucking pinball.
Louche
Carved TMO on her clit just to make you feel bad
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Wine. Just wine. The evil, evil grape of doom. The grape is a vicious little fucker and it has designs on mt sanity. I am currently contemplating two things 1) how to get vitamins intravenously into my system in one huge reviving whack and 2)if Carol Vorderman's 30 Day Detox is worth a shot.
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I don't really do alcohol anymore, but I've just been given three bottles of Oxford Landings Cabernet Sauvignon as a gift from my employer. Does anyone know if this will be good enough to cook with.
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quote:Originally posted by jonesy999: Something big, maybe a giraffe.
I had to fit a dog door thing the other day so the ridiculous puppy thing can go and wee all over my garden whenever it wants. Mrs Dang said it was very nicely fitted but did I think it would let a giraffe in? Is this a common issue with pet doors?
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I haven't had any serious incidents in this Christmas party season, which is pretty good. I hit the deck pretty hard outside East Croydon station on Friday, and I was on the phone so I didn't put my hands out - just ploughed into the ground face first. It didn't hurt much at the time. Other than that, it's been relatively restrained and with only two more events to go, I reckon I could make it through Xmas 2004 without disgracing myself in a catastrophic manner. We shall see.
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quote:Originally posted by Louche: Wine. Just wine. The evil, evil grape of doom. The grape is a vicious little fucker and it has designs on mt sanity. I am currently contemplating two things 1) how to get vitamins intravenously into my system in one huge reviving whack and 2)if Carol Vorderman's 30 Day Detox is worth a shot.
1)Seek out a juice bar and have something, fresh, frothing and preferably lurid green. Then get yourself a big bunch of bananas and about a gallon of green tea and sip/nibble for the rest of the afternoon. I realise that this would involve moving from your desk to procure these things.
I was going to fit a catflap for Dave, but by the time I got round to thinking about it, Dave had started coming in and out of the dining room fan light window. So I didn't bother.
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Astromariner
Going the right way for a smacked bottom
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My best sick was when I was on a pill at a party. I'd been feeling a bit queasy for a while, and I was concerned about the queasiness: it seemed to reflect an underlying mental unease and weird sense of being disconnected from the world. I slunk off to the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the bath, gripping the cool enamel with my clammy palms, taking deep breaths of fusty bathroom air, and then suddenly I was poised over the lavatory, directing a perfect jet of partially digested pizza right into the centre of the bowl. Because I was pilling, I didn't feel at all distressed by this recent turn of events: I kind of disinterestedly watched my body doing the sicking, stood up, got a headrush like bunjeeing off the Forth Road Bridge, wiped my mouth, took a slug of water, and then bounced out of the bathroom into the party again, feeling purged and fresh and back in charge. It was brilliant: a truly enjoyable sick experience. 9/10.
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I sometimes toy with the notion of giving up drink for January. Except for my best bud's birthday. And other key events.
This is in a vague attempt to a) halt the ever-expanding girth bulging over my pants b) save money c) put a temporary stop to 'post-alcohol depression' and d) temporarily halt the ever speeding ageing process.
Has anyone ever done such foolish endeavour, and did it enhance life or make it even more unbearable than before?
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I think I've told the story of my most lurid vomit before. It was after a work xmas bash at a tapas bar. Equal amounts of red and white wine were ordered, before it was noticed that I was the only one (of twelve) drinking red. I ate lots of tapas and drank two bottles of expensive grape juice.
Outside the restaurant a few moments later, it became apparent that tapas is quite colourful.
Soon after, the station platform was introduced to the same information. As I ran for my train, the occupants' gazes flicked between my wretched corpse and the clock, obviously hoping the train would pull away before the-man-who-could-simultaneously-run-and-spew-red-sick could board.
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On my worst ever hangover I was sick in the middle of the following afternoon in the middle of university in bright daylight on the ground outside the library. I had hesitated too long trying to decide if I could make it as far as the library toilets. Then I had to get 4 buses home because I had to get off every 5 mins. This can be entirely attributed to buying a bottle of vodka "for later" before going to the pub for 10 hours, then drinking the vodka.
I am anticipating a fun hangover next Wednesday as a friend who was kicked out of the country 4 years ago after overstaying her visa "a little bit" is going to come and visit - hopefully! So look out for that hangover watchers!
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Probably my best sick was in the JCR (Junior Common Room) of what was at the time a swanky new building at University. For some reason it only had one, beautifully white-tiled toilet. For some other reason I went to a party there, drank too much red wine and had to queue nauseously for about 10 mins for the toilet.
Whereupon I spray vomited in bright red over three of the four walls, which I imagine rendered the toilet unusable for anyone else. Not a very pithy anecdote, more of a visual gag really....
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ps. Herbs, sounds like a good plan. I've never consciously given up. But I did stop drinking *during* *the* *week* for a considerable period, which was only broken when one of my best friends informed me that she's taking a job in a war zone a couple of weeks ago and sort of forced me to drink tequila with her.
Improves quality of life no end. Especially the vague cloud of depression.
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quote:Originally posted by herbs: Has anyone ever done such foolish endeavour, and did it enhance life or make it even more unbearable than before?
I gave up drinking for a month in January 2003. It wasn't nearly as difficult as I thought - I was able to go out to the pub and happily drink soft drinks all evening. The only time it was a bit of a bind was on my best friend's birthday, where 10 of us went out for a meal and everyone else got really merry and I didn't feel quite as caught up in the atmosphere as I would have normally been. Also, Julian was a really annoying drunk and the only way to cope with her was to be as drunk as she was. Other than that, not a big deal.
The benefits weren't huge though. Didn't feel any better than I do if I just don't drink mid-week. Financially I was a little better off, but when dinner gets split 10 ways regardless of whether you were drinking or not, it's a neglible improvement. More than anything I just wanted to see whether I had the willpower to do it, and I did, so that was slightly satisfying. Other than that, no big difference. Oh - and one other thing: no matter how bad you think Monday is when you've had a heavy weekend, it's ten times worse when you're stone cold sober and have to live every single second of it in pin-sharp, crystal clear work-o-vision. *shudder*.
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