We all love a drink. Some of us love them so much they want to see them again on the way out of their mouths. I once got caught by surprise by the boozy sickness while chatting to some friends in my kitchen. Quick as a flash I grabbed a nearby pan and chundered away merrily in it. Realising it was probably time for bed I staggered off to my room. Unfortunately, my co-ordination failed just as I reached the landing and I somersaulted down the entire flight of stairs with my saucepan full of vomit. Beat that!
Um, nothing that dramatic. I do recall a lazy summer afternoon with large quantities of dark rum and orange juice. It tasted so very, very good going down. It tasted so very, very bad coming up.
To this day I can't drink a screwdriver without at least mentally gagging.
Some funny stories (if you're into that sort of thing) at b3ta.
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