Drunken Rants: The Milford Story

Way back when I was a fresh eighteen years old I had two awesome friends I hung out with all the time, John and Jessica. We were inseparable. They were friends with a chick who lived in Milford named Mary. Mary was hot. She was also a twenty-one-year-old college chick I had the hots for. She lived in this subdivision of rich people's houses that were just slightly smaller than mansions. One night Mary decided to throw a party and we were invited. The three of us showed up at Mary's to find only Mary and this guy was there. We were early. While John, Jessica and Mary left to go purchase a tanker truck full of alcohol and liquor for the party, this other guy we'll call Fred (cause I can't remember his name) and I discovered a nice expensive bottle of tequila in the fridge. Before the gang got back with the alcohol he and I had drank five double shots a piece of the tequila. The group returned and I was given my purchase, a bottle of cheap Long Island Iced Tea. Not the smooth stuff, the shit that burns all the way down to your toes. Mmm.

Yummy store-brand liquor.

Yummy store-brand liquor.

I sucked on the bottle all night until I eventually blacked out. But before I did I remember only one thing happening. I met Mary’s dog.

He was an awesome Pug dog, which I’ll call Fred cause I can’t remember his name either. Fred and I had a great conversation on the couch. I asked him dog things and he looked at me. Oh the times we had.

This is how I remember it.

This is how I remember it.

Later I had spilled a drop of my Long Island on what was probably very expensive carpet and Fred licked it up for me. He was officially drunk too.

And then I blacked out. I don’t remember anything that happened but it was a successful first black out. From what I gather, I continued to drink with the human Fred the rest of the night, opening up completely about my life and my feelings. It turned out that was a normal thing for Fred, because he was studying to become a priest and that was his last shindig before joining the church for good. I wasn’t aware of this until later.

I also apparently tried to burn my face off while attempting to light a cigarette and finding the flame of the lighter to be pretty.

I also apparently tried to get everyone to go to the club house and go swimming. Everyone stopped me, which was good because I was drunk enough to drown.

I also apparently hung out with the rest of the party goers, which I don’t remember at all, but apparently there were dozens of them. We had a good time. Apparently.

Lastly, I remember this. I was a giant X on the living room floor (just over the spot where I had previously spilled a drop of my liquor). John and Fred each had me by an arm and they drug me through the house to the bathroom. I vaguely remember being drug.

I do remember being in the bathroom knelt over the toilet when John hands me a plastic butter knife and tells me to stick it down my throat. I ask why and then did it. “Oh.” Was my response just before I let loose a 45 minute puke session.

I remembered nothing else until I woke up the next morning on the bathroom floor with a small throw pillow under my head and the plastic butter knife on the counter above me. The coolness of the floor felt great.

I went out into the living room to a sea of passed out drunk people I did not recognize. Fred was laying on the couch with Fred sleeping. I went into the fridge and pulled out a beer. I sat down in a chair in the living room, head pounding and I took a drink of beer, feeling the alcohol in it soothe my head pains a little. Fred awoke and looked at me. “Jesus, you’re still drinking?”

Over the years I’ve heard that phrase a lot. And once again that’s why I’m 33 with a shot liver.

Oh, one last thing. I was showed a picture, and if I can ever get a copy of it I’ll post it for all to see. The photo is a shot of me in the bathroom bent over the toilet hurling, while everyone from the party stands around the opened bathroom door smiling and holding a bottle of liquor. My underwear and the crack of my ass can be seen.

Ah, my glory days.

About Twindaddy (338 Articles)
Sometimes funny. Sometimes serious. Always genuine.

15 Comments on Drunken Rants: The Milford Story

  1. That’s also Walmart’s brand. And no, I quite obviously photoshopped the logo onto the bottle, but still, that brand, Montebello I believe, is next to the worst you can get.


  2. I couldn’t love this any more. Hehehehehe…..too good. Too funny for morning coffee reading. Never! I loved it!

    My favorite was when you introduced Fred, the dog. Coffee, shot from my nose.


    • Fred was the greatest. And everyone gave me shit about talking to a dog. It was all dog stuff. “Aww, who’s a good boy? You’re a good boy! Yes you are! Yes you are!” They thought we were talking politics or something.


  3. 45 minute puke session? Jeez, how big is your stomach?


    • I wasn’t puking the entire time, but for the length of 45 minutes I was heaving and hacking and occasionally something would come out. I don’t know about then, but my stomach is pretty big now lol.


  4. We all have stories like that.
    I just wish I could remember more of mine…


  5. This means we need to hit up Hooter’s or something and make our own story.


  6. Now that’s a great drinking story! *raises glass* Here’s to the glory days!


  7. Oh my. Just looking at that store-brand bottle makes my head hurt.


  8. Your glory days sound glorious indeed. What you can recall of them, that is.


Deposit 2 cents here

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: