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Theme Changer

 Topic: Alcohol

 (Read 1441 times)
  • Previous page 1 2« Previous thread | Next thread »
  • Alcohol
     Reply #30 - October 10, 2017, 01:19 PM

    FYI in the UK is 18 to drink and i am 19 dance
  • Alcohol
     Reply #31 - October 10, 2017, 08:52 PM

    FYI in the UK is 18 to drink and i am 19 dance

    what???...

    Phil....Philowolf... you are what??  you are 19??  and you are in CEMB forum??
    do you drive?

    Do not let silence become your legacy  
    I renounced my faith to become a kafir, 
    the beloved betrayed me and turned in to  a Muslim
     
  • Alcohol
     Reply #32 - October 10, 2017, 09:10 PM

    what???...

    Phil....Philowolf... you are what??  you are 19??  and you are in CEMB forum??
    do you drive?


                                                                                                                                                                                                                      No not yet but i am of age
  • Alcohol
     Reply #33 - October 11, 2017, 07:35 PM

    Ahh, you're 19. Are you the typical teenager that guzzles booze to the point they throw up in the street and fall down in the gutter, or someone who can actually handle their booze, like I could when I was your age? (I'm a few years older than you now. It's fun to say "when I was your age"). Old geezer

    `But I don't want to go among mad people,' Alice remarked.
     `Oh, you can't help that,' said the Cat: `we're all mad here. I'm mad.  You're mad.'
     `How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice.
     `You must be,' said the Cat, `or you wouldn't have come here.'
  • Alcohol
     Reply #34 - October 11, 2017, 07:44 PM

    Wow QSE, much harsh.

    Are you telling us you were even younger than a teenager when you were at the throwing up in the streets phase?  Tongue

    how fuck works without shit??


    Let's Play Chess!

    harakaat, friend, RIP
  • Alcohol
     Reply #35 - October 11, 2017, 07:44 PM

                                                                                                                                                                                                                     No not yet but i am of age

    OK.. so you are of the age for driving in the country you are living....goood

     .....do you have driving licence ??

    Do not let silence become your legacy  
    I renounced my faith to become a kafir, 
    the beloved betrayed me and turned in to  a Muslim
     
  • Alcohol
     Reply #36 - October 11, 2017, 08:11 PM

    Wow QSE, much harsh.

    Are you telling us you were even younger than a teenager when you were at the throwing up in the streets phase?  Tongue


    I once threw up in the hallway of a pub, saw out the window my taxi had come, forgot I'd been sick, walked out to the hallway for my taxi and slipped in my own vomit.

    To be fair, everyone needs to discover their limits. But yeah, usually I was an old soul at booze. Drank it like tea or a coke and was very aware of how much I'm consumed. But, you know, sometimes people challenge you, and I'm not their bitch. They are my bitch. I will drink any fucker under the table, and if they put money on it, I will be the one walking out with that money.

    Just imagine a goth/punk/rocker wearing worn jeans, boots, a faded metal t-shirt, a much loved black leather coat down to the ankles, various rings and jewelry, drunkenly strolling to the exit and falling on his arse in sick like a badass looking Wiley Coyote.

    `But I don't want to go among mad people,' Alice remarked.
     `Oh, you can't help that,' said the Cat: `we're all mad here. I'm mad.  You're mad.'
     `How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice.
     `You must be,' said the Cat, `or you wouldn't have come here.'
  • Alcohol
     Reply #37 - October 11, 2017, 08:40 PM

    OK.. so you are of the age for driving in the country you are living....goood

     .....do you have driving licence ??


    I have my provisional DL which you get at 17 and allows you to drive so long as a full DL is in the car with you and same for mopeds i think.....so it allows me to have driving lessons but more important drink and go clubs and bars at night  dance
  • Alcohol
     Reply #38 - October 11, 2017, 08:43 PM

    I once threw up in the hallway of a pub, saw out the window my taxi had come, forgot I'd been sick, walked out to the hallway for my taxi and slipped in my own vomit.

    To be fair, everyone needs to discover their limits. But yeah, usually I was an old soul at booze. Drank it like tea or a coke and was very aware of how much I'm consumed. But, you know, sometimes people challenge you, and I'm not their bitch. They are my bitch. I will drink any fucker under the table, and if they put money on it, I will be the one walking out with that money.

    Just imagine a goth/punk/rocker wearing worn jeans, boots, a faded metal t-shirt, a much loved black leather coat down to the ankles, various rings and jewelry, drunkenly strolling to the exit and falling on his arse in sick like a badass looking Wiley Coyote.



    Ive never puked yet,,,,,worrst was i went to my limit (two and 1/4 cider on empty stomach) but i only drink to get talking/dancing the go dry till i feel sober enough
  • Alcohol
     Reply #39 - October 11, 2017, 08:45 PM

    I once threw up in the hallway of a pub, saw out the window my taxi had come, forgot I'd been sick, walked out to the hallway for my taxi and slipped in my own vomit.

    To be fair, everyone needs to discover their limits. But yeah, usually I was an old soul at booze. Drank it like tea or a coke and was very aware of how much I'm consumed. But, you know, sometimes people challenge you, and I'm not their bitch. They are my bitch. I will drink any fucker under the table, and if they put money on it, I will be the one walking out with that money.

    Just imagine a goth/punk/rocker wearing worn jeans, boots, a faded metal t-shirt, a much loved black leather coat down to the ankles, various rings and jewelry, drunkenly strolling to the exit and falling on his arse in sick like a badass looking Wiley Coyote.

    If you don't have a sweetass bike and regularly get mistaken for a Hell's Angel, don't brag about your driving.

    I was driving my bike a while ago and came to some red lights. A gang of lads on mopeds pulled up beside me and were revving their engines and bouncing up and down, acting like they were the shit. Took one look at them and thought "It's a moped, not a Harley Davidson." Cunts.

    `But I don't want to go among mad people,' Alice remarked.
     `Oh, you can't help that,' said the Cat: `we're all mad here. I'm mad.  You're mad.'
     `How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice.
     `You must be,' said the Cat, `or you wouldn't have come here.'
  • Alcohol
     Reply #40 - October 11, 2017, 08:45 PM

    @QSE

    I am a rock guy too. Not heavy (with exseptions of course since i listern to all genres) rock but love me my black jackets, One republic imagine dragons cold play ect
  • Alcohol
     Reply #41 - October 11, 2017, 08:50 PM

    We should hang out.

    `But I don't want to go among mad people,' Alice remarked.
     `Oh, you can't help that,' said the Cat: `we're all mad here. I'm mad.  You're mad.'
     `How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice.
     `You must be,' said the Cat, `or you wouldn't have come here.'
  • Alcohol
     Reply #42 - October 11, 2017, 09:00 PM

    We should hang out.


    We should, pm me on here since security and all that
  • Alcohol
     Reply #43 - October 11, 2017, 09:02 PM

    I am gona ran out of battery on phone so catch you guys later
  • Alcohol
     Reply #44 - October 11, 2017, 09:03 PM

    Toodles.

    `But I don't want to go among mad people,' Alice remarked.
     `Oh, you can't help that,' said the Cat: `we're all mad here. I'm mad.  You're mad.'
     `How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice.
     `You must be,' said the Cat, `or you wouldn't have come here.'
  • Alcohol
     Reply #45 - October 12, 2017, 01:50 AM

    For wine, try a bottle of what I'm drinking right now. Echo Falls, red fruit fusion, with raspberry and cassis,


    `But I don't want to go among mad people,' Alice remarked.
     `Oh, you can't help that,' said the Cat: `we're all mad here. I'm mad.  You're mad.'
     `How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice.
     `You must be,' said the Cat, `or you wouldn't have come here.'
  • Alcohol
     Reply #46 - October 12, 2017, 10:58 PM

    To be fair, everyone needs to discover their limits.

     Absolutely!

    And this is one of those theoretical conundrums about which the British tend to recommend consulting direct experience without delay; how does one know one’s limits if one doesn’t exceed them once at the very least?  

    Well, my first dalliance with strong waters ended in tears and to my utter mortification.

    I naively thought I had been civil enough but the first impression the stuff left on me wasn’t remarkably different, come to think about it, from that which it left on the cat called Webster in Mulliner Nights by P.G. Wodehouse:

     
    For some minutes Lancelot Mulliner remained where he was, stunned. Then, insistently, there came to him the recollection that he had not had that drink. He rushed to the cupboard and produced the bottle. He uncorked it, and was pouring out a lavish stream, when a movement on the floor below him attracted his attention.

    Webster was standing there, looking up at him. And in his eyes was that familiar expression of quiet rebuke. ‘Scarcely what I have been accustomed to at the Deanery,’ he seemed to be saying.

    Lancelot stood paralysed. The feeling of being bound hand and foot, of being caught in a snare from which there was no escape, had become more poignant than ever. The bottle fell from his nerveless fingers and rolled across the floor, spilling its contents in an amber river, but he was too heavy in spirit to notice it. With a gesture such as Job might have made on discovering a new boil, he crossed to the window and stood looking moodily out.

    Then, turning with a sigh, he looked at Webster again — and, looking, stood spellbound.

    The spectacle which he beheld was of a kind to stun a stronger man than Lancelot Mulliner. At first, he shrank from believing his eyes. Then, slowly, came the realisation that what he saw was no mere figment of a disordered imagination. This unbelievable thing was actually happening.

    Webster sat crouched upon the floor beside the widening pool of whisky. But it was not horror and disgust that had caused him to crouch. He was crouched because, crouching, he could get nearer to the stuff and obtain a crisper action.  His tongue was moving in and out like a piston.

    And then abruptly, for one fleeting instant, he stopped lapping and glanced at Lancelot, and across his face there flitted a quick smile — so genial, so intimate, so full of jovial camaraderie, that the young man found himself automatically smiling back, and not only smiling but winking. And in answer to that wink Webster winked, too — a wholehearted, roguish wink that said as plainly as if he had spoken the words:

    ‘How long has this been going on?’

    Then with a slight hiccough he turned back to the task of getting his quick before it soaked into the floor.

    Into the murky soul of Lancelot Mulliner there poured a sudden flood of sunshine. It was as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. The intolerable obsession of the last two weeks had ceased to oppress him, and he felt a free man. At the eleventh hour the reprieve had come. Webster, that seeming pillar of austere virtue, was one of the boys, after all. Never again would Lancelot quail beneath his eye. He had the goods on him.

    Webster, like the stag at eve, had now drunk his fill. He had left the pool of the alcohol and was walking around in slow, meditative circles.  From time to time he mewed tentatively, as if he were trying to say ‘British Constitution’. His failure to articulate the syllables appeared to tickle him, for at the end of each attempt he would utter a slow, amused chuckle. It was at about this moment that he suddenly broke into a rhythmic dance, not unlike the old Saraband.

    It was an interesting spectacle, and at any other time Lancelot would have watched it raptly. But now he was busy at his desk, writing a brief note to Mrs Carberry-Pirbright, the burden of which was that if she thought he was coming within a mile of her foul house that night or any other night she had vastly underrated the dodging powers of Lancelot Mulliner.

    And what of Webster? The Demon Rum now had him in an iron grip. A lifetime of abstinence had rendered him a ready victim to the fatal fluid. He had now reached the stage when geniality gives way to belligerence. The rather foolish smile had gone from his face, and in its stead there lowered a fighting frown. For a few moments he stood on his hind legs, looking about him for a suitable adversary: then, losing all vestiges of self-control, he ran five times round the room at a high rate of speed and, falling foul of a small footstool, attacked it with the utmost ferocity, sparing neither tooth nor claw.
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