At least I have never

The home of schadenfreude, where you can take comfort in the fact that no matter what your most hideously embarrassing moment was, there is always something worse that has happened to someone else and you can rest safe in the knowledge that at least you have never done that.

Thursday, January 04, 2007

The one where you realise your memory is not as bad as you fear

At least I have never forgot my three year old child and left them in a hotel in Aberdeen ... for facks sake people if you can't remember you have a child, try to remember to use a condom. Jesus wept.

posted by She de la Handbag @ 12:40 PM  

15 Comments:

  • At 5:33 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    At least I have never been on a drunken girls night out, stumbled out of the local gay pub at 2am, immediately tripped over and landed in the arms of a devastatingly handsome man with a lazy smile, dragged him home, plied him with more alcohol and then had blinding sex with him after gladly falling for the rather straight-forward approach of 'I'm really horny right now and you have great tits'. Similarly, I've not then seen him for the first time since at another pub just before Christmas, mouthed 'Merry Christmas' to him on the way out and then had him turn up at my door at 1am that night with a bottle of champagne under one arm and a twinkle in his eye, only to be told after the entire bottle was consumed that he'd moved in 3 doors up earlier that week, to then be kissed silly before being informed that his wife was waiting, 3 doors up, and expecting their first child in 5 days time! Now he walks past the front door several times a day, peering through the kitchen window, waving each time and somehow managing to coordinate cigarette breaks in his adjacent back yard. A good reason to give up smoking I think. And to leave the blinds down.

     

  • At 9:31 AM, Blogger zuzula said…

    OMG! what a cad!

     

  • At 1:47 PM, Blogger She de la Handbag said…

    Am truly stunned
    *sits slack jawed in horror*

     

  • At 7:44 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Common thread in stories posted by She and TT seems to be that some people have difficulty remembering they have a child, whether already born or still inside wife. Thanks for the laughs.

     

  • At 2:42 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    that's one way to meet your neighbors (or should I say meat your neighbors?), indeed, 'friendly' has taken on a whole new meaning!

     

  • At 2:50 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Latest update: Child still not born, kitchen largely avoided, leaving house via the back door and now smoking from an upstairs window, balanced rather precariously on the ledge.

     

  • At 2:51 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    P.S. Silverfox - meet/meat. Ewwwwwww!!!!

     

  • At 1:54 PM, Blogger shitfaced said…

    At least I have never - start again.

    Only once have I gone to two friends' farewell drinks, tired, dehydrated and hungover from a housewarming the night before. After six or so beers I start to perk up. Although G has asked earlier in the day if we'd get into any controlled substances and I firmly have said no because of a huge job that is due in two days' time, when push comes to shove, we both get on it rather quickly. So the night wore on, with shots that had ground-up **** mixed in. Because we have class.

    My mid-morning we are ready for some white Christmas, and by now I have drunk god-nows-how-much of who-knows-what. And one glass of water. So, N and I take off to Darlinghurst to pick up the goods. On the way we bump into my former business partner, who is now a sales rep, and buy another two **** from him, which we swiftly consume. The other sales rep is not ready for us, so we have to wait on the street for over half an hour, and by now it's nearly 30 degrees. We finally get in, and test the goods by inhaling two little streaks each. We get in a taxi back to K's place, and the driver allows us to smoke inside. It's surely over 30 degrees by now. As soon as I get out of the taxi, I spew all over K's apartment block's front yard. I feel something is wrong - I can feel my body convulsing with each vomit like it never has before. I make it upstairs and to the toilet, where the purge continues. I start to feel my brain swelling up and reach for some Panadol. Anti-inflammatories slow down the swelling, Dr M told me on Thursday. I feel hazier and hazier, and think "Is this how I'm going to die?" I think I pass out on the kitchen floor. When I come to, I've got a wet towel wrapped around my head, thankfully, as I feel like I'm burning up. I also get an icepack to cool me down further. It takes a good two hours for the burning feeling to pass. But it does, and I happily then help the others consume a g of c. And we drink another two bottles of champagne (there are five of us).

    This doesn't sound much, I know, but I think without the Panadol and the wet towel I would be in a morgue now.

    Later, when I'm feeling better, I'm in K's bathroom, and the shampoo bottles start dancing, really sexy. I tell them to stop because the last thing I fucking need is that. They oblige.

    I assure you I have come away from this having learned a lesson.

     

  • At 2:41 PM, Blogger Tiny Tones said…

    Oh well - all's well that ends well. When's the next party?

     

  • At 6:19 PM, Blogger shitfaced said…

    How's never for you?

     

  • At 2:28 PM, Blogger shitfaced said…

    At least I have never picked up a man with the sole intention of stealing his money. I go to the atm with him, so I can get his pin, and then we hop in cab to his place. I also have my friend in tow. We get to the man's place and I proceed to have sex with him; I leave my friend to watch tv on the sofa. About half an hour later I emerge from the bedroom, with the man's credit card, and tell my friend to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible. We get to the nearest atm and I withdraw the maximum allowed amount. I will do the same several times over the next few days. (How dumb is this man for not canceling his card straight away?) All up, I get maybe 1500 Euro, a lot of which I give to my mum.

    About three weeks later, the police ring and ask me to come in for an interview regarding credit card fraud. Now, what happened to people getting arrested, with all the drama, like on tv? I mean, surely the police don't ring murderers and drug dealers ON THE PHONE, asking them to come in? "Sir, we'd like to talk to you about that time you killed so-and-so. We have CCTV footage of the whole thing. So, when suits you?" Anyway, I do the 'interview', and then ring my friend, who sat on the sofa, to expect a call from the police. My friend gets the call and also goes in for an interview, to be told he's a suspect also. Because of my comments, my friend eventually goes from suspect to witness. Because of comments we both made in the interviews, which may or may not have been true, the poor man who lost all that money, drops the charges. Probably feeling lucky he wasn't charged with anything. Because young gay boys know how to use the system, and the law, to their benefit, when it suits them. I got off by paying back the money.

    At least I've never done that. But I may have sat on a sofa once.

     

  • At 12:58 AM, Blogger shitfaced said…

    At least I have never lodged a tax return for seven years. The tax office rang me today. Cue story about ex-partner who didn't allow me access to the "necessary documents" which the woman (robot?) from the tax office totally didn't buy. I have three months. Shit.

     

  • At 3:31 PM, Blogger Tiny Tones said…

    Ah hah! All is revealed!!!!!

     

  • At 5:02 AM, Blogger She de la Handbag said…

    Shitfaced - you stun and amaze me, on a frequent basis:)

     

  • At 5:11 AM, Blogger shitfaced said…

    Stun and amaze are kind replacements for shock and repulse, no? I'm a mighty catastrophe sometimes, and my past is a rich tapestry.

     

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