[Talthyr Malkaviel]

Well, if we're going to involve drinking, I have one.

Right, well, my friends are all shorter and smaller in stature than me (not very hard, I'm pretty tall) and to put it kindly, they can't comparitively hold their alcohol as well as me.
I assure you, I'm not bragging here, it's pretty boring to be sat there stone sober while your mates are seemingly having fun.
So, in pursuit of a change to the normal, one wintery New Years Eve (Need I say more? ) I decided to save up a bit and buy a, shall we say, rather large bottle of Teacher's scotch whisky.
Now, the thing about spirits is, they wait, and wait, then creep up on you, then punch you in the face.
I had consumed almost the whole bottle within half an hour in shots, and I seemed fine.
This was about 10:15.
Now, when I woke up in the morning, it seemed that somehow a creature must have found my mouth the perfect place to curl up and die, and defecate in there while it was at it, and I couldn't remember anything, and I mean anything past 11:00.
Now, that wasn't the funny part, or at least it wasn't to me that morning, especially since the sun seemed determined to shine in my eyes whereever I went.
After the mandatory visit to good old mister toilet, I felt like imitating the creature that it felt like was inhabiting my mouth.
To my surprise, during the night I must have had some inexplicable form of temporary amnesia, as I kept telling everyone the same joke... about twenty times.
And I had also fell over on the snow a few times, and broke a few car aerials for good measure, not to mention the dancing in the snow next to a car at 2am in the morning.

[ 05-02-2002, 04:39 PM: Message edited by: Talthyr Malkaviel ]