The Hangover Part IV…

I have to say, I think last night was was the worst nights out I’ve had so far at uni.

Having not been out out for three weeks (flu, home, sleep), I’ve literally been chomping at the bit for a good evening of partying; but far be it for me to have a decent clubbing experience…

Oh no, I can’t be a normal person and get completely trollied, have a bit of a boogie with a hot guy, snog a stranger and stagger home with my flatmates.

Instead last night turned out to be some sad low-budget parody of The Hangover.

And you want to know the worst part of it all?

I WAS DOUG.

I’ll start form the beginning…

I did a bit of pre-drinking with the girls and then we headed out to our Wednesday night haunt where, as per usual, we had to wait in a “queue” for half an hour before we even got to the door.

I am too short for this shit.

Do you know how painful it is being mosh pitted against metal railings by drunk rugby and football guys when you’re 5’1?

I’ll tell you…

…VERY.

When we finally made it to the entrance, we were given a tag and told to come back half an hour later when our colour was called…

..really?

NO.

So instead we MI5’d it into the club and managed to procure a different colour tag that would get us in earlier.

At half eleven, after an hour of sitting at a bench covered with spilled beer, we were finally allowed into the R&B room where I danced with one of my friends for a bit…

…until she stared getting off with a random guy and my third wheeling got to a stage of painful awkwardness.

So then I Marco’s Polo’d it and found my two other friends outside where I stayed and chatted, until I was dragged back in for some more dancing.

Queue EVEN MORE AWKWARD THIRD WHEELING while the same friend got off with one of the guys in her seminar group dressed as a Mexican (who later turned out to be a creepy dick).

At this stage I somehow managed to make friends with a guy called Will who told me I was stunning but he had a girlfriend (bullshit but…LIFE, WHY?) and a girl called Sophie,  and danced with them while my flatmate played tonsil hockey.

We then dispersed and I buggered off to try and find everyone, sans phone, thanks T-Mobile for your wonderful signal coverage…best UK network my arse.

I can’t even remember how long this lasted until I finally got pissed off and decided to leave.

When I got back I had a load of texts and missed calls from my other two friends who it turns out were wandering around on their own looking for eachother as well.

NONE of them pulled…

…Guys, THE END IS NIGH.

So now I sit, hanging without a cause.

Admittedly when I woke up on my mattress it wasn’t on a roof…and my only souvenirs of the night were my (accidentally) stolen entry tags rather than a small child or a tiger…

And to think I’m meant to be showing my Essex friend how to party wop-a-uni-style (geddit, Gangnam Style? Haha..ha ha..ha…ha?) this weekend.

So far all I’ve got is get drunk and wander around on your own like a twat.

Eggy bread and aspirin is happening…right now.

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#freshersweekfail

I am a disgusting cliche of a human being.

I’m sorry, I tried guys, I really did.

Remember in my ‘starting uni post’ when I said that everyone around me was on a mission to get as drunk an uninhibited as possible, and it was kind of freaking me out? I’d been teetotal and didn’t want to get crazy drunk but it just felt so awkward being completely sober…

I started on the alcohol…

…le sigh…

At 2:03 on Saturday morning I was met by two lovely paramedics who poked and prodded me with various instruments as I threw up the contents of my stomach (which at this point there was none) into my ASDA smart price mixing bowl.

I woke up at 5 am lying on my dorm room floor…apparently my one male flat mate had to actually carry me there.

*Now I’m lying on the cold hard ground *goat* *goat* trouble! trouble trouble*

No?

Fine…

The next day I found out that I’d actually blacked out. Like there is a half an hour period of my life I actually can’t remember…the rest I remember a bit too acutely….don’t ask…

One thing I do remember is the paramedics talking about the unpredictability of alcohol…I didn’t drink any more than I did on my birthday night, yet I wound up with a 0.34% alcohol level and being violently sick.

The recovery the last few days has almost been worse…
As hilarious as this is looking back (I totally won the gold medal amongst my flat mates for the first – and biggest – drunk fail) if any of you reading this are going off to freshers and are not acclimatised to drinking, please take care.
Your esophagus will thank you, I promise…
*drinks orange juice*
P.S. Who in God’s name invented Jaegermeister? One evil son of a bitch…

P.P.S. I also wound up with a bruised ribcage…apparently an occupational hazard of throwing up over the kitchen sink for 3 hours (not exaggerating)

P.P.P.S. (Once again is this even a thing?) My flatmates are saints. End of.