Western Front Forum
General => General discussion => Topic started by: TnT on August 05, 2009, 07:39:28 AM
-
Ok, I wasn't exactly sure where to post this story so I thought I'd pretend to start up a thread about drunken / wasted / stupid antics that people have gotten up to, so people can tell their story for our amusement, so feel free to add your own. Whoever tells the best one wins the prize.
Ok, this one isn't about me (although I have my share and I'll probably tell another time), but it is a classic moment from the weekend just gone, which had me in stitches, along with everyone else that witnessed. Keep in mind I'll just refer to people on a first name basis, so you'll probably appreciate it more if you know who I'm talking about.
There was a gathering at Dan & Jordan's (from SOTF) etc the other night with a number of the regular metal crew in attendance, and although there were a number of great moments, this one in particular stood out. Big mac was in a bit of a foul mood so Jez offered to help cheer him up, by way of letting Big mac throw a dart into his leg! :rofl:
Ok, so immediately I'm thinking it's just a joke or either one of them will decide not to go through with it, but Jez takes position across the other side of the room, standing side on, with a couch cushion shielding his jatz crackers and Big mac lines him up. My next thought is that either Big mac will miss, given the amount of alcohol he's already had (and had just slammed down a couple of more shots of bourbon), or that as Jez was wearing denim jeans it will either bounce off or deflect.
What happened next was all so quick - Big mac fired the dart off with a succinct motion, and from where I was standing it just looked like a scene out of a movie. The dart shot directly into the middle of Jez's thigh and stuck, sinking in the full depth of the tip of the dart. :o :rofl: :clap: :laugh: :rofl:
Fuck, it was one of the funniest things I've seen in ages, and was the talk of the party for the rest of the night. Talk about taking one for the team.
Anyway I thought it was hilarious and that I'd share it. Your turn. ;D
-
Once my uncle offered me a beer but i didn't want it but i put it in my mouth anyway but then i went to the toilet and spat it out because dirnking is bad
-
This post makes much more sense now.
Drinking rum gives me a sore leg for some reason....
-
Hahaha this is awesome! That story had me cracking up Daz :clap: :clap: :clap:
My friend tried to bungee jump once from her shed roof.
She broke her arm when she hit the ground, but thats nothing compared to the damage she could have inflicted on herself had she actually tied the rope to the shed.
-
Hehehe.... that story reminds me of when jez rocked up to one of dazzas parties a few years back with a can of mace in his pocket which was leaking and burning the fuck out of his leg!
Poor Jez's legs... what a battering they must cop being attached to the rest of him :/
-
I told mine in another thread yesterday. We came home from a gig fairly merry and were sitting out the front have a smoke. I was sitting on the bull bar of Eric's van and spotted my ratchet strap. I clipped it to each end of the bull bar and secured me and a mate Rick. Then we got Eric (who was blind drunk) to drive us around. he deiced it'd be funny to go up people lawns and big kerbs. I have never laughed so hard. That was until we pulled up on my lawn and I started to roll forward and almost ended up underneath the front of the van.
-
right up my alley this one is.... I am actually about 3/4 the way through writing a book based on drunken antics when I was a young, dumb bachelor living with my mates in Bentley.... I'll post one up that Im sure you will all find reasonably amusing... bare in mind, this makes more sense when a. you know the people involved, and b. have read more of the stories so it all kind of ties together, but its pretty much a book of memoirs.
AT THE HEART OF SPLINTER
The shrill sounds of Immortal, a Norwegian black metal band was thrashing out of the stereo as the trio of Lok, Haydz and Woodz soaked up the music of one of their current favourite bands. It was Woodz? personal favourite album, At The Heart Of Winter and was quite often blasted out during this era in their lives. With the recent departure of their good friend Skell, the lounge room was no longer doubling as Haydz? bedroom as he had moved into the backroom that Skell had vacated. With this move brought about another odd addition to the lounge room. For reasons unknown, the kitchen table was moved into the lounge room, leaving the kitchen very bare, but the lounge room over loaded with furniture. It turned out to be quite handy, as it was pretty much always covered in empty stubbies and full ashtrays and the likes. It also saved the already heavily beer-stained carpet from too many more future spillages, not that it was of great concern to either of the house occupants.
As the music took its epic path through the grim forest of darkness, the Carlton Draught stubbies that the boys were drinking moved along equally as fast. The table quickly filled with empties and the boys began to mosh in time with the music. Hair was flowing up and down, milling around and they were having an awesome time. Moshing sessions is about as close as you will ever get to dancing if you are a metal head, and when done in unison with a group of your metal brethren, it can be a truly magnificent site to behold, and an adrenalin amplifier. As was customary, all the boys had long locks of hair, past the shoulder at the very least; a style specifically designed for moshing.
Whether it was the beer, the music, the adrenalin created from moshing, or a combination of all of these factors is unknown, but the events that unfolded next were extremely spur of the moment, dangerous and quite possibly could be seen as insane. Woodz began to kick the armchair in a happy fit of rage. The armchair was one of those single couches that would once have belonged to a set along with a 3 seater and possibly a second armchair. It was very heavily padded, covered in a bluey grey vinyl and was quite comfortable. Joining in the fun, Haydz and Lok started kicking it too. There they were, music cranked, beers in hand, all kicking this armchair from different angles, trying their best to break it. Mid-kick, Woodz? eyes lit up as he spotted a large kitchen knife on the kitchen/lounge room table. He grabbed it and began slashing at the vinyl, stabbing it and going at it like a man possessed.
By now it had become obvious that the couch wasn?t going to survive long enough to feel the warmth of a drunken metal heads arse ever again, so Lok grabbed an empty stubbie and threw it at the back of the couch onto a piece of timber that had been exposed during the knife attack. While this was going on Woodz had already gone to his room to get his favourite weapon; a 3-foot length of RHS steel. Living in Queen st required the safety net of having weapons at the ready in case of any break-ins from the locals. It was always good to be prepared, and the boys slept better knowing a weapon that could maim and kill was only an arms length away from their beds. Woodz? previous favourite weapon, prior to the induction of RHS to the Queen St weaponary stash, was what he liked to call Torquey. It was a nice shiny black torque wrench, and that now resided next to the front door, which was directly adjacent to Lok?s bedroom door. Haydz had Tommy, his $10 tomahawk axe that he got from Salvador?s, the local B-grade shop where nothing is fancy, but it?s cheap. Tommy may have been cheap, but he certainly wasn?t crap.
Woodz arrived back in the lounge room with RHS in hand, and started slamming it into the couch, slowly but surely breaking the timber structure that held it all together. Not wanting to miss out on the fun, Lok quickly left the lounge room and made a beeline for the front door to grab Torquey. As he came back into the lounge room for his turn at an attack, Haydz left hurriedly and came running back with Tommy. All hell had now broken loose. The shrieking, spine tingling sound of Abbath?s vocals and the immensely fast and atmospheric music was still pounding out of the speakers at full volume, and the boys were simultaneously pounding the couch with no regards for anything else but total destruction. Haydz? axe chops were doing a mighty job on the vinyl and the timbers inside, each swipe tearing more covering off, revealing the raw timbers that were quickly being hacked into pieces. Stuffing was flying around and pieces of vinyl were now scattered across the floor accompanied by chips and splinters of wood.
Not content with the inadequate demolition job Torquey was doing, Lok decided it was time to do some real damage. He left the lounge room again while Haydz and Woodz kept smashing away, every hit weakening the couch more and more. The cottony white stuffing was now spreading everywhere, creating a mighty mess. The music rolled on, as the boys stopped smashing intermittently to swig on their beers. Suddenly Lok wandered back into the lounge room carrying a block splitter. He was holding it by the head, and as he entered the room, took a mighty sideways swipe at the empty stubbies scattered on the table, sending them into a flurry of broken glass. Some broke, some didn?t, but either way it was a mighty impressive blow, and a great way to enter the room. It really grabbed Haydz and Woodz? attention as they stopped what they were doing, looked up and realized what Lok had actually just done. It was clear what Lok?s intentions were with the block splitter. With a mighty swing he landed the sharp edge of the head straight across the main upright timber on the back corner of the couch, and with a mighty crack, it gave way.
The couch was now collapsing, and Lok carried on pummelling it with the block splitter, which was acting like a demolition ball. The couch certainly hadn?t seen this one coming. In the meantime, between Lok?s mighty blows, Haydz and Woodz were picking up any of the stubbies that didn?t break and throwing them with great velocity at the remnants of broken couch, sending shards of glass scattering across the carpet. Haydz continued attacking with Tommy, but he was no match for the strength and power of the block splitter. Eventually the boys, who by now were dripping in sweat, covered in spatters of beer that were spilt in amongst the mayhem, and quite exhausted stopped, took a step back and basked in the glory that was the couch. It was now a pile of splinters, broken timbers, pieces of broken glass, shredded vinyl and scattered stuffing. It barely resembled the couch that once sat alone in the lounge room, lending itself to lazy TV watching. The house was now one comfy seat down and it reeked of the familiar mixture of beer and sweat.
As the boys gathered their thoughts, realizing what they had just done they looked up and noticed two faces peering in from the front windows. It was none other than Robz and Klaassen, who had only recently witnessed the mad donut session that ended with a bump into the wall. The look on their faces was priceless, though they were beginning to become somewhat accustomed to the antics that they seemed to have a knack of showing up in the middle of. It turns out they had seen quite a bit of the couch smashing, but Lok, Haydz and Woodz were totally unaware of their presence. Haydz walked over to the front door, opened it up and let the onlookers in. Everyone was laughing uncontrollably by this stage, as they left the lounge room in its bomb-blasted like state, headed for the kitchen and grabbed a round of cold beers.
-
right up my alley this one is.... I am actually about 3/4 the way through writing a book based on drunken antics when I was a young, dumb bachelor living with my mates in Bentley.... I'll post one up that Im sure you will all find reasonably amusing... bare in mind, this makes more sense when a. you know the people involved, and b. have read more of the stories so it all kind of ties together, but its pretty much a book of memoirs.
Kinda like a Heavy Metal version of John Birminghams classic ?
(https://www.wf.com.au/forum/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fecx.images-amazon.com%2Fimages%2FI%2F41CZA2123VL._SL500_AA240_.jpg&hash=33b3b99dd08630476256e54699e092a6db6ab4f3)
-
Once my uncle offered me a beer but i didn't want it but i put it in my mouth anyway but then i went to the toilet and spat it out because dirnking is bad
I bet that's not all your uncle put in your mouth that you spat out. OHhhhh!
-
HAHAHAHAHA that was classic.
It all started when wee nicky got hell pissed off the neck of a JD bottle earlier in the night and then passed out at the bar. That was no biggie but then he got up and proceeded to piss in the corner of headbangers ballroom!!!!
We pushed him towards the toilet, and then 30 seconds later a sheila comes racing out of there screaming that he was pissing in the girls dunnies! Lo and behold I open the main toilet door and see him standing there.... pissing in the girls toilets!
I then scream at him to get out and push him towards the guys (gently).... he staggers, spins around, staggers backwards and falls though the guys toilet door (which despite being a thick wooden door, offered no resistance to his more than ample bulk!) and then...... CRRAAACK. I race in there and stand over him laying down flat on his back on the tiled floor to give him a hand up and then i see this "sheet" of blood spreading from the back of his head......
Moments later then "security" (the venue is much like the castle so the security is all in house) guy comes rushing in and then out the door muttering "sheisse" under his breath. By this time a few others have rushed in there to soak up the blood with paper towels etc.... by this time the entire floor of the male toilets was soaked in blood!
Not long after, the ambulance guys rock up, bandage his scone and frogmarch him out of the toilet, venue and front door! I'll never forget his face as he was led, blinded and bewildered from the joint! Darrrrrrrrennnnnnnnnnnnnnn (TnT) was the only one nice enough / not pissed at nick enough to go with him to the hospital (from which he had no idea how to get back to the hostel!). Apparently nick yodelled all over the inside of the ambulance, which the paramedic was none to happy about ;D
Eventually they released a groggy and badly concussed nick a few hours later and daz went back to our hostel with him (taxi??). Daz didnt have the key to get nick into their room so ..... he left him on the floor in our room!!! :err: We came back a few hours later and kicked a VERRRRRY smelly (vomit, piss etc) nick out of our room and into their room.
A week later kate cut the stitches out of nicks scalp. It was only a flesh wound but ........... WHAT A STORY! ;D
-
I was 18 and went to The Loft with a couple of mates. Before we left we smoked a few joints between us but I'd hardly ever smoked at the time. On the way we got McDonald's (the shame) and more beer. By the time I got there I was already half cut, feeling quite stoned and my stomach was feeling off from eating crap. Once we were there I was drinking more and more. about two hours later I felt the sudden and violent urge to throw up. I managed to get up and start staggering to the toilets. As I was crossing the dance floor I saw a girl from high school I used to have a huge crush on. She saw me, walked towards me with a huge smile on her face and put her arms out as if she was going to hug me. All of a sudden I threw up but manged to keep it inside my mouth. Then I threw up again with my mouth closed already full of spew. There was a little bit coming out and there was another follow up. I threw up on the dance floor in front of her and ran off the toilets. I just kept vomiting and vomiting. When I came out I stank of spew. I tried to talk to her again but she wouldn't have a bar of it decided to leave with her friends. Bitch.
-
HAHAHAHAHA that was classic.
It all started when wee nicky got hell pissed off the neck of a JD bottle earlier in the night and then passed out at the bar. That was no biggie but then he got up and proceeded to piss in the corner of headbangers ballroom!!!!
We pushed him towards the toilet, and then 30 seconds later a sheila comes racing out of there screaming that he was pissing in the girls dunnies! Lo and behold I open the main toilet door and see him standing there.... pissing in the girls toilets!
I then scream at him to get out and push him towards the guys (gently).... he staggers, spins around, staggers backwards and falls though the guys toilet door (which despite being a thick wooden door, offered no resistance to his more than ample bulk!) and then...... CRRAAACK. I race in there and stand over him laying down flat on his back on the tiled floor to give him a hand up and then i see this "sheet" of blood spreading from the back of his head......
Moments later then "security" (the venue is much like the castle so the security is all in house) guy comes rushing in and then out the door muttering "sheisse" under his breath. By this time a few others have rushed in there to soak up the blood with paper towels etc.... by this time the entire floor of the male toilets was soaked in blood!
Not long after, the ambulance guys rock up, bandage his scone and frogmarch him out of the toilet, venue and front door! I'll never forget his face as he was led, blinded and bewildered from the joint! Darrrrrrrrennnnnnnnnnnnnnn (TnT) was the only one nice enough / not pissed at nick enough to go with him to the hospital (from which he had no idea how to get back to the hostel!). Apparently nick yodelled all over the inside of the ambulance, which the paramedic was none to happy about ;D
Eventually they released a groggy and badly concussed nick a few hours later and daz went back to our hostel with him (taxi??). Daz didnt have the key to get nick into their room so ..... he left him on the floor in our room!!! :err: We came back a few hours later and kicked a VERRRRRY smelly (vomit, piss etc) nick out of our room and into their room.
A week later kate cut the stitches out of nicks scalp. It was only a flesh wound but ........... WHAT A STORY! ;D
Did he end up paying the bill? I remember the hospital kept sending bills to his house but he just ignored them, assuming they would just go away.
Needless to say, responsibility has never been one of his strong points! :D up until last year of course. ;D
-
Damn. don't have any that awesome that I can think of but I can say that you shouldn't climb leroy's tree, theres a lot of angry ants up there.
-
Did he end up paying the bill? I remember the hospital kept sending bills to his house but he just ignored them, assuming they would just go away.
LOL..... no idea! I guess we'll have to wait for him to comment on here to find that one out ;D
-
I threw up on the dance floor in front of her and ran off the toilets. I just kept vomiting and vomiting. When I came out I stank of spew. I tried to talk to her again but she wouldn't have a bar of it decided to leave with her friends. Bitch.
HAHAHAHA.... go gray gray!
Did she say to you "YOUR VOMIT FUCKIN STINKS AY!!!!!" ? ;D
-
Damn. don't have any that awesome that I can think of but I can say that you shouldn't climb leroy's tree, theres a lot of angry ants up there.
Now that's innuendo if I've ever heard it!
-
Damn. don't have any that awesome that I can think of but I can say that you shouldn't climb leroy's tree, theres a lot of angry ants up there.
Now that's innuendo if I've ever heard it!
HAHA nooo.
-
I was 18 and went to The Loft with a couple of mates. Before we left we smoked a few joints between us but I'd hardly ever smoked at the time. On the way we got McDonald's (the shame) and more beer. By the time I got there I was already half cut, feeling quite stoned and my stomach was feeling off from eating crap. Once we were there I was drinking more and more. about two hours later I felt the sudden and violent urge to throw up. I managed to get up and start staggering to the toilets. As I was crossing the dance floor I saw a girl from high school I used to have a huge crush on. She saw me, walked towards me with a huge smile on her face and put her arms out as if she was going to hug me. All of a sudden I threw up but manged to keep it inside my mouth. Then I threw up again with my mouth closed already full of spew. There was a little bit coming out and there was another follow up. I threw up on the dance floor in front of her and ran off the toilets. I just kept vomiting and vomiting. When I came out I stank of spew. I tried to talk to her again but she wouldn't have a bar of it decided to leave with her friends. Bitch.
Stan and Wendy much? :P
-
I was 18 and went to The Loft with a couple of mates. Before we left we smoked a few joints between us but I'd hardly ever smoked at the time. On the way we got McDonald's (the shame) and more beer. By the time I got there I was already half cut, feeling quite stoned and my stomach was feeling off from eating crap. Once we were there I was drinking more and more. about two hours later I felt the sudden and violent urge to throw up. I managed to get up and start staggering to the toilets. As I was crossing the dance floor I saw a girl from high school I used to have a huge crush on. She saw me, walked towards me with a huge smile on her face and put her arms out as if she was going to hug me. All of a sudden I threw up but manged to keep it inside my mouth. Then I threw up again with my mouth closed already full of spew. There was a little bit coming out and there was another follow up. I threw up on the dance floor in front of her and ran off the toilets. I just kept vomiting and vomiting. When I came out I stank of spew. I tried to talk to her again but she wouldn't have a bar of it decided to leave with her friends. Bitch.
Stan and Wendy much? :P
HAHAHAHA... didnt even think of that!
here's one for you bong heads out there.... you'll like this one Trease.
BONG OLYMPICS
A sunny September day in the year 2000. It was the year of the Sydney Olympics. This meant virtually nothing to the boys, as sport was fairly low on the agenda and drinking alcohol and smoking weed was near the top. This spurred the idea for one of the most spectacular Olympic sporting events since that first Olympics games held in Greece at the original Olympic Stadium ? the 2000 Bong Olympics. It was arranged for Lok and Haydz to go over to Klaassen, Ned and Robz?s house to participate in this inaugural event. The entry fee was as much weed as you could bring, and whatever you wanted to drink.
Haydz had arranged for a bag of premium quality bush weed to be sent up in the mail from down south. He had a good, reliable source, and the weed he supplied was very nice smoke. To the casual smoker there isn?t a great deal of difference from one plant to another, but to a hardy expert it can make the world of difference. This was grown in a chook pen in the backyard of a house, which means it was in high quality, heavily fertilized soil. They were tight, juicy buds, nice and sticky, but fluffed up a lot when you put scissors to it. It gave a nice high, slow to come on and a nice long peak. All in all there was roughly an ounce that Haydz had to contribute as his entry fee.
Klaassen had managed to score half an ounce of hydroponically grown, skunk type hooch. This stuff was intense. It was coated in a white crystal type of resin, and was almost literally dripping with THC. Hydro weed, as it is commonly referred to as, is a much more intense high than that of naturally grown, naturally fertilized plants. Because it is heavily fertilized with chemicals, rather than natural substances such as manure and compost, this passes through the smoke, and affects the taste and the feeling of the buzz. A much more chemically induced high, although still enjoyable, to many it?s not quite as pleasant as the natural product. Never-the-less, beggars cant be choosers, and hydros were much easier to come by in the city than bush weed.
Robz also brought a $50 bag to the table. His too was hydros, but of a different variety. It was similar in look, taste and stone, but came from a different source, and was obviously a different strain, not that it mattered to any of the guys. Ned had a bit of weed in his tin as well. A few hearty buds of some fine bush weed, different to Haydz?s, but just as good. They all put their separate piles on the table to see how much there was in total. Klaassen had quite a nice, medium sized wooden bowl which he used for chopping weed up in that was already on the table with a few cones worth already in it, so they all decided it would be a good idea if they chopped everyone?s weed up into the bowl and made one big mix.
The stage was set; 4 competitors being Haydz, Ned, Robz and Klaassen and an official, in Lok. They cracked a drink, sat at the table and Matt proceeded to chop the entire weed pile up with scissors until it was one big bowl of mix. Robz and Haydz decided now was a great time for a game of pool, so they grabbed the cues and racked the balls up. The pool room was actually more of an enclosed verandah, with half height brick walls separating it from the backyard so a nice gentle breeze would blow through and cool the whole place down. The fridge was stocked with beer, the music was at a nice, talkable level and the anticipation of the bong Olympics they were about to compete in had everyone in a great mood.
Klaass had finally finished chopping by the end of the first game of pool, so Haydz and Robz sat at the table to get ready for the event to start. Klaass freshened up the bong water, as he knew this was going to be a big session; one the likes had never been seen. He sat back at the table, pulled the bowl in front of him and packed the bong up. He handed it to Lok first who officially opened the games with the lighting of the bubbling torch. It was apt that Lok begin proceedings seeing as he wasn?t actually competing, but you can?t have an official that isn?t stoned in a bong smoking contest; it?s just not right. Lok finished his cone, cleared the hose and passed it back to Klaass. He then packed it again and passed it around the table, and did so until everyone had enjoyed their first cone. The Bong Olympics had officially begun.
During that afternoon the boys played a lot of games of pool, and smoked a lot of bongs. They each had a score sheet in front of them and would mark it off on a tally as they smoked, all the while Lok making sure everything was official. The games of pool started to decline in skill by about the 15th cone, and the focus now was more on smoking cones and keeping their eyes open. As they sat around chatting about nothing in general, they continued casually smoking cones. The loosely organized rule of thumb was, once someone had a cone, it had to be a full round of cones. If you declined, you were out. That kept everything even and also made it easier to keep track of how many cones were smoked, in case someone lost track. Lok had the occasional bong in between rounds, but very few and far between. He was smoking at what would normally be considered a fairly high rate, although this was the gold medal event after all.
Cone number 26 rolled around. Klaass went first. He nailed it back like it was his first. He was in fine form today and broke out as early favourite. Ned and Robz stopped their game of pool to come join in the proceedings. Haydz was up next. He lit up the cherry, started to inhale slowly as he whipped the flame around the cone piece in a circular fashion. The chamber quickly began to fill with thick white smoke as Haydz started sucking harder. Then the collapse happened; hot embers pulled down the hose and into the water one by one, making a hot, dry spitting type of noise, like rocks falling down a funnel. He released the button on the lighter, took his thumb off the shotty hole and inhaled the chamber in one breath. A seasoned pro was Haydz; no-one could pull a cone with more finesse or style than him. He handed the bong back to Klaassen, rocked back in his chair and blew the smoke out up into the air.
Up next was Ned, who was eager to keep up in the race between the two big guns in Haydz and Klaass. Deep down he knew he would be struggling, and was probably going to have to settle with a Bronze medal. Everyone knew it, after all Ned wasn?t exactly the biggest person, especially standing next to his 2 counter parts. He grabbed the bong out of Klaassen?s hands with rabid enthusiasm ? well, as much enthusiasm as someone can have after smoking 25 cones. Like a highly trained athlete he placed the bong to his lips and began to light it up. Ned had a different style to Haydz. He preferred to suck the whole cone down, leaving his finger on the shotty hole. He would then exhale the first breath, and go back with a fresh lungful of air to clear out the chamber. This would prove to be a very effective method.
Robz, having witnessed his competitors suck back on their 26th cone with ease seemed a little nervous. He grabbed the bong, but didn?t seem focussed. His hand was shaking, his eyes were almost closed and so red there was no white left, and his voice was now just a quiet undecipherable mumble. He put the bong to his lips as the other boys watched on in anticipation. They knew the end was nigh for Robz, who had put up a valiant effort thus far. He slowly smoked the cone, taking several breaths in and out to complete it. He put the bong on the table, pulled himself out of his chair, mumbled something about ?sleep? and staggered inside into the lounge room. He was done. He lay on the couch, was asleep as soon as he was horizontal, and didn?t move until the next morning. It was still light outside at this point in time.
Haydz, Ned and Klaassen all knew they were assured of a medal now, it was just a matter of which colour it would be. This gave them new life as their spirits lifted and they continued on to play pool and drink beer, all the while still smoking cones throughout the afternoon. It eventually grew dark and the events carried on into the night. Not too far into the night however, as the mull was starting to get to their heads. They were still neck and neck at this point in time, and had each just smoked over a dozen more cones in the 2 hours since Robz retired. Haydz put the bong down, marked down his cone on his piece of paper, exhaled and sipped on his drink. They had officially reached the 40 mark.
Everyone started to really feel the pinch now, and were all very cautious about continuing on. It was almost a draw, but there was no way that either of them were going to let that happen after all this hard work. Klaassen picked up the bong, packed the cone and handed it to Haydz, who declined and gestured that Klaassen himself should smoke it, since he was so eager to carry on. Without hesitation the cone was gone into his lungs. With that, Haydz knew he had to have another. He packed it up and smoked it back, marking down his 41st cone. He felt weak at this point and began doubting himself as to whether he should, or even could carry on. While his head was trying to compute all this information, Ned grabbed the bong and hurriedly nailed another one back. The official score was now 41 all.
Through hazy eyes, Klaassen packed another, much to Lok?s amusement, who had smoked about 6 cones by this stage and was at a nice, content high. Ned was up first in this round, and he smoked it back with a grimace on his face. They were getting much harder to deal with now. Haydz looked at the bong, and then looked at the bowl, contemplated for a minute, and then he conceded.
?I?m out guys, I can?t go on.? Haydz took a Bronze medal with 41 cones smoked. The battle for Gold was now on the table. Klaassen and Ned sat at the table, knowing they were only one more scalp away from winning the inaugural Bong Olympics. They had to carry on. They couldn?t stop at 41 and share the gold with Haydz. It just wasn?t going to happen. They both smoked their 42nd cone each, now cementing the fact that they had beaten Haydz, at what some would say was his own game.
Klaassen stared at Ned as he proceeded to pack cone number 43. Ned stared back, half due to the competitive stare, and the other half due to being too stoned to shift his focus. They both finished cone 43 and contemplated calling it a draw. They discussed this for a while as Haydz sat at the table, barely moving and just watching the events unfold. Not wanting to merely call it a draw, Klaassen battled on, smoking his 44th cone. He packed it up, handed it to Ned and asked the question of Ned whether or not he wanted to give up. It was obvious Ned wanted to quit, but his will to win was urging him on. He smoked his 44th cone, placed the bong down and with a smoky declaration, conceded that this would be his last. He was to finish on the grand total of 44.
With this, Klaassen packed another, very slowly. His brain was barely functioning by now, and he wasn?t sure if this was really a good idea after all. It was far too late for rational thought though, so he robotically put the bong to his lips and smoked it, almost as if it was instinct to do so. He placed it on the bench, successfully smoking his 45th cone as Ned stood up and shook his hand, knowing that if he didn?t call it quits now, it was just going to keep going until someone?s brain imploded. Haydz congratulated both Ned and Matt on their feisty fight to the finish line, happily taking bronze rather than engaging in the fierce battle that he had just witnessed. All the while Lok was happily drinking and laughing at how stoned the competitors were. The final score?
Gold medal ? Klaassen ? 45 cones
Silver medal ? Ned ? 44 cones
Bronze medal ? Haydz ? 41 cones
4th place ? Robz ? 26 cones.
-
45 cones.
Fuck me. :o
-
Haydz, you are a dead set legend.
I've never heard of someone smoking 40+ cones in one sitting, and I know some pretty fucked up stoners. :clap:
Keep these stories coming! :D
-
Haydz, you are a dead set legend.
I've never heard of someone smoking 40+ cones in one sitting, and I know some pretty fucked up stoners. :clap:
Keep these stories coming! :D
You really shouldn't applaud such behaviour
-
Haydz, you are a dead set legend.
I've never heard of someone smoking 40+ cones in one sitting, and I know some pretty fucked up stoners. :clap:
Keep these stories coming! :D
You really shouldn't applaud such behaviour
:clap:
watch me
-
Haydz, you are a dead set legend.
I've never heard of someone smoking 40+ cones in one sitting, and I know some pretty fucked up stoners. :clap:
Keep these stories coming! :D
You really shouldn't applaud such behaviour
:clap:
watch me
:rofl:
-
:clap: Simply a marvelous story there Hadyz. I was gonna throw up a story of my own but I think I'll let the roaring cheers die down a bit first.
-
I threw up on the dance floor in front of her and ran off the toilets. I just kept vomiting and vomiting. When I came out I stank of spew. I tried to talk to her again but she wouldn't have a bar of it decided to leave with her friends. Bitch.
HAHAHAHA.... go gray gray!
Did she say to you "YOUR VOMIT FUCKIN STINKS AY!!!!!" ? ;D
Oh... thats another story.... about shoes....
-
Haydz, you are a dead set legend.
I've never heard of someone smoking 40+ cones in one sitting, and I know some pretty fucked up stoners. :clap:
Keep these stories coming! :D
You really shouldn't applaud such behaviour
:clap:
watch me
no seriously, he knows what he is talking about.. ;)
-
Nah, I never paid the bills. :P
I put it all down to 30 hours travel and jetlag, finally to be finished off with a bottle of Jack or Jim or something of the sort.. And then those manky bottles of schnapps that someone supplied.. Apple schnapps.. :sick:
That said, I'll be in Darren's debt for a long time, being the most responsible one there.
Not the best way to start off the holiday, ending up in hospital after being in Hamburg for about 8 hours.
-
I kinow how that goes. One time I got blasted on the plane to Bali. Checked into the Hotel and got so shitfaced that I was running on a bar built into the pool and knocked myself out on a concrete bulkhead.
Didn't bleed as well as you though, that's an admirable effort.
Then again, your head wouldn't have reached the bulkhead. ;D ;D ;D
-
I didn't read that entire post but your winner did 45 cones? Were they buckets? 45 bongs would be a snooze.
I did 50 when I was 17 for a bet and I could handle a fucking lot more these days. In fact I'm willing to bet I can smoke indefinitely, provided I'm allowed to cough and splutter every 5 minutes.
-
I threw up on the dance floor in front of her and ran off the toilets. I just kept vomiting and vomiting. When I came out I stank of spew. I tried to talk to her again but she wouldn't have a bar of it decided to leave with her friends. Bitch.
HAHAHAHA.... go gray gray!
Did she say to you "YOUR VOMIT FUCKIN STINKS AY!!!!!" ? ;D
And I wasn't there to look at the spew and say to the chick. Theres chips in there. ;D
-
i heard a story about a dude who shat his pants at a new years party and left them there....
-
I didn't read that entire post but your winner did 45 cones? Were they buckets? 45 bongs would be a snooze.
I did 50 when I was 17 for a bet and I could handle a fucking lot more these days. In fact I'm willing to bet I can smoke indefinitely, provided I'm allowed to cough and splutter every 5 minutes.
it wasnt leaf ;)
-
I did 50 when I was 17 for a bet and I could handle a fucking lot more these days. In fact I'm willing to bet I can smoke indefinitely, provided I'm allowed to cough and splutter every 5 minutes.
it wasnt leaf ;)
NAH YOU CUNTS ARE FAGGOT CUNTS AY..........I'LL OUTSMOKE YOU CUNT.........
(https://www.wf.com.au/forum/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fi3.photobucket.com%2Falbums%2Fy75%2FSOD_WF%2Fsmoking.jpg&hash=2b5cd4926a77a4d8e5a97931fc210f6769476705)
;D
-
I did 50 when I was 17 for a bet and I could handle a fucking lot more these days. In fact I'm willing to bet I can smoke indefinitely, provided I'm allowed to cough and splutter every 5 minutes.
it wasnt leaf ;)
NAH YOU CUNTS ARE FAGGOT CUNTS AY..........I'LL OUTSMOKE YOU CUNT.........
(https://www.wf.com.au/forum/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fi3.photobucket.com%2Falbums%2Fy75%2FSOD_WF%2Fsmoking.jpg&hash=2b5cd4926a77a4d8e5a97931fc210f6769476705)
;D
Is that 'little jimmy' from Black Steel gigs ? :laugh:
-
Is that 'little jimmy' from Black Steel gigs ? :laugh:
LOL..... yup. As you can see, too much smoking definitely stunted his growth :P
-
I didn't read that entire post but your winner did 45 cones? Were they buckets? 45 bongs would be a snooze.
I did 50 when I was 17 for a bet and I could handle a fucking lot more these days. In fact I'm willing to bet I can smoke indefinitely, provided I'm allowed to cough and splutter every 5 minutes.
it wasnt leaf ;)
If it were, I'd be wondering if 45 wasn't a typo for 450.
Actually, I still am.
";)"
-
I'm pretty sure once you've smoked more than a certain amount(probably less than 45 cones) your body can't absorb anymore THC. So if you can smoke that much, after a while it shouldn't really have been doing anything. Though the most I've had in a short time period was about 15 so I don't know.
-
I didn't read that entire post but your winner did 45 cones? Were they buckets? 45 bongs would be a snooze.
I did 50 when I was 17 for a bet and I could handle a fucking lot more these days. In fact I'm willing to bet I can smoke indefinitely, provided I'm allowed to cough and splutter every 5 minutes.
yeah once you reach the level 45 cones is just Tuesday for a stoner
Haydz had arranged for a bag of premium quality bush weed to be sent up in the mail from down south. He had a good, reliable source, and the weed he supplied was very nice smoke. To the casual smoker there isn?t a great deal of difference from one plant to another, but to a hardy expert it can make the world of difference. This was grown in a chook pen in the backyard of a house, which means it was in high quality, heavily fertilized soil. They were tight, juicy buds, nice and sticky, but fluffed up a lot when you put scissors to it. It gave a nice high, slow to come on and a nice long peak. All in all there was roughly an ounce that Haydz had to contribute as his entry fee
i love your in-depth description of the bud and there really needs to be a weed olympics :rofl:
-
I'm pretty sure once you've smoked more than a certain amount(probably less than 45 cones) your body can't absorb anymore THC. So if you can smoke that much, after a while it shouldn't really have been doing anything. Though the most I've had in a short time period was about 15 so I don't know.
yeah, by about the mid 20's it didnt get you any more stoned, just more sleepy and spaced out.
-
I'm pretty sure once you've smoked more than a certain amount(probably less than 45 cones) your body can't absorb anymore THC. So if you can smoke that much, after a while it shouldn't really have been doing anything. Though the most I've had in a short time period was about 15 so I don't know.
yeah, by about the mid 20's it didnt get you any more stoned, just more sleepy and spaced out.
what i wouldn't do to be a "one cone wonder" again nothing will ever compare, thats why now i try to space it out for as long as possible instead of smoking a 50 in a day i push it to 5-6days or else i get back into nasty habits of smoking half ounces in a under a week
-
My girlfriends brother's life is almost completely dedicated to it. He hasn't gone a day without smoking since he was 15. He's just turned 42. If you knew him, then like me, you'd be more motivated to stop. He can't speak more than three or four words without coughing and spluttering. He's got almost nothing to his name and spends most of his time running between drug dealers and Cash Converters. Quite sad really.
I tried it a few times when I was younger but everytime guaranteed I would be sick. I started again when I was 28 and built up some tolerance. Not much point to it anymore because between me and my girlfriend we could smoke a 25er in a few hours and still be straight. Last time we got one the size of it was laughable. Not the best thing to do when you have a mortgage and money is tight. It also destroys the ability to do good vocals if done as a consistent lifestyle choice. I'd rather be one those people who consciously gave it up and set an example to the little kiddies. :angel: It can be difficult though.
-
This was on my 'Things to do in Europe' list- right next to Wacken and Oktoberfest...
http://cannabiscup.net/
-
I'm pretty sure once you've smoked more than a certain amount(probably less than 45 cones) your body can't absorb anymore THC. So if you can smoke that much, after a while it shouldn't really have been doing anything. Though the most I've had in a short time period was about 15 so I don't know.
Your lungs would still be maxing out. 45? 45. Forty Five. I can't even process it.
I still smoke cones. Not all the time, probably a cone or two a week at the most. It isn't about getting ripped, the days of spinning out and losing my mind on cones are two decades back. Cones are one of the only things that allow me to chill down and de-stress, mental and physical decompression. The thought of smoking more than the bare minimum to unwind and feel relaxed gives me shudders, I hate the feeling in your lungs after pulling a bong. Every year I smoke less, and heavy tokers seem more and more munted. Getting old I guess.
Despite that, in the world of drugs Marijuana is the coolest. Nobody ever cracks heads after a few cones, they would rather watch Ren and Stimpy and eat anything they can find. I recommend cakemix, dry and straight from the packet. ;D
By the way, stop hailing me you bunch of stoned out fuckknuckles.
-
Despite that, in the world of drugs Marijuana is the coolest. Nobody ever cracks heads after a few cones, they would rather watch Ren and Stimpy and eat anything they can find. I recommend cakemix, dry and straight from the packet. ;D
Couldnt have said it any better myself... except the cakemix. If you happen to be stoned while you read this, try dry weetbix... awesome sensation! :D
-
Despite that, in the world of drugs Marijuana is the coolest. Nobody ever cracks heads after a few cones, they would rather watch Ren and Stimpy and eat anything they can find. I recommend cakemix, dry and straight from the packet. ;D
Couldnt have said it any better myself... except the cakemix. If you happen to be stoned while you read this, try dry weetbix... awesome sensation! :D
its like taking a bite out of the sahara desert :rofl: done the weetbix challenge many a time stoned or straight it still sucks every bit of moisture from your mouth
-
its even better with a bit of that cheap, dry peanut butter (not the good oily, moist stuff).
-
I vote Haydz tells us another one before we have a 30 page thread on food suggestions and i drown in drool.
-
there really needs to be a weed olympics :rofl:
SIGN ME UP!
Finally, my chance to win a gold medal.
-
Nah, I never paid the bills. :P
I put it all down to 30 hours travel and jetlag, finally to be finished off with a bottle of Jack or Jim or something of the sort.. And then those manky bottles of schnapps that someone supplied.. Apple schnapps.. :sick:
That said, I'll be in Darren's debt for a long time, being the most responsible one there.
Not the best way to start off the holiday, ending up in hospital after being in Hamburg for about 8 hours.
Hahah.. yeah I was the first one that rushed into the toilets after seeing you fall like a stiff board flat on your back, cracking your noggin. I see a pool of blooding expanding from the back of your skull and quickly grab some paper towels and hold them against the wound to stem the flow, but there was just so much coming out.. typical head wound. So ended up with heaps of blood soaked paper towels and blood running down my arms. :err:
Then the ambos eventually rock up and the two dudes try to get a bandage around your melon, failing repeatedly, so I end up having to wrap it around myself! Then we get you up and lead you outside to the ambulance and they are like, are you coming to the hospital? I'm thinking, err, well I'd like to stay here drinking with everyone else, but I guess Nick will end up in some fucked up predicament or being sold off in some 'Hostel' like scenario, so I jumped in as well.
The ride itself was just as eventful - no more than 2 minutes into the trip Nick starts vomitting all over himself and the ambulance. I look at the paramedic and his face turned to pure rage. All I could offer was a "Sorry about this mate". We get to the emergency room and they transfer him to the bed and the doctor comes in. Nick vomits some more, his WF shirt and denim shorts already caked in blood and chunks of spew. Then the questioning starts from the doctor, to which Nick was in no state to give any meaningful answer, between the blood loss and extreme enebriation.
"What is your name?"
"Ummm.. urrr... "
"Where are you from?"
"Seven... three.. eight.."
Hahaha :rofl:
Anyway they stitched up his split head and then wheeled him into the next room for an x-ray and I could see him puking some more. X-ray is clear and eventually they let him go, so we get a cab back to the hostel and of course Nick doesn't have his room key, so I had to let him crash on the floor in our room. Probably a couple of hours have passed but I figure I'd head back to Headbangers ballroom (haha ironically enough), and walk through the mean streets of Hamburg back to the bar and try to enjoy the rest of the night.
Fun times. :o
-
Nah, I never paid the bills. :P
I put it all down to 30 hours travel and jetlag, finally to be finished off with a bottle of Jack or Jim or something of the sort.. And then those manky bottles of schnapps that someone supplied.. Apple schnapps.. :sick:
That said, I'll be in Darren's debt for a long time, being the most responsible one there.
Not the best way to start off the holiday, ending up in hospital after being in Hamburg for about 8 hours.
Hahah.. yeah I was the first one that rushed into the toilets after seeing you fall like a stiff board flat on your back, cracking your noggin. I see a pool of blooding expanding from the back of your skull and quickly grab some paper towels and hold them against the wound to stem the flow, but there was just so much coming out.. typical head wound. So ended up with heaps of blood soaked paper towels and blood running down my arms. :err:
Then the ambos eventually rock up and the two dudes try to get a bandage around your melon, failing repeatedly, so I end up having to wrap it around myself! Then we get you up and lead you outside to the ambulance and they are like, are you coming to the hospital? I'm thinking, err, well I'd like to stay here drinking with everyone else, but I guess Nick will end up in some fucked up predicament or being sold off in some 'Hostel' like scenario, so I jumped in as well.
The ride itself was just as eventful - no more than 2 minutes into the trip Nick starts vomitting all over himself and the ambulance. I look at the paramedic and his face turned to pure rage. All I could offer was a "Sorry about this mate". We get to the emergency room and they transfer him to the bed and the doctor comes in. Nick vomits some more, his WF shirt and denim shorts already caked in blood and chunks of spew. Then the questioning starts from the doctor, to which Nick was in no state to give any meaningful answer, between the blood loss and extreme enebriation.
"What is your name?"
"Ummm.. urrr... "
"Where are you from?"
"Seven... three.. eight.."
Hahaha :rofl:
Anyway they stitched up his split head and then wheeled him into the next room for an x-ray and I could see him puking some more. X-ray is clear and eventually they let him go, so we get a cab back to the hostel and of course Nick doesn't have his room key, so I had to let him crash on the floor in our room. Probably a couple of hours have passed but I figure I'd head back to Headbangers ballroom (haha ironically enough), and walk through the mean streets of Hamburg back to the bar and try to enjoy the rest of the night.
Fun times. :o
Aaaaaahh you're a Gem mate, a real lifesaver. ;D
You should be proud of your efforts!
Were they actually the numbers I said, do you remember? 'Cause if so I could have been semi close to giving them my home landline number. :rofl:
-
haha that'd be even funnier than what i was thinking. i thought you were starting to tell them your street address in case they'd have to mail you home! gotta love it when a half asleep drunk starts muttering things like that randomly.
-
Aaaaaahh you're a Gem mate, a real lifesaver. ;D
You should be proud of your efforts!
Were they actually the numbers I said, do you remember? 'Cause if so I could have been semi close to giving them my home landline number. :rofl:
Haha.. nah, I can't remember what random string of numbers were said.. in fact they could have been said in response to what your name was. :P
It was all a bunch of abitrary nonsense, but it was amusing enough. ;D
-
Poor little R2. ;D
-
MOAR STORIES!
-
MOAR STORIES!
OK, one more... this one's for Jez...
THE AVON DECENT
Living in Bentley certainly had its moments. It?s fair to say it wasn?t exactly suburban paradise. Sure, the boys and their visitors loved it as it was a great place to party, and you could pretty much get away with anything as the police presence was either lacking, or they had bigger and better things to do in the area than tell a few drunken young men to turn their music down and stop doing burnouts. The habitants of the house were well aware of the risk of break-ins and theft, but chose to put that in the back of their mind and just have fun.
There had been several incidents in the past. Lok had his beloved deadly treadly stolen from the back verandah; a really nice 22? 15sp Repco mountain bike, the same bike he had since primary school that he and Haydz used to thrash through the bush in Greenbushes on. From that very same verandah Woodz?s well used barbecue was also stolen. This was a present from his old man for his 18th birthday, so it was a sad loss for Woodz. The pain was eased, or more so masked by the theft of his pride and joy. The previously mentioned 50th Anniversary Kingswood.
From what they could tell the car was stolen by the natives in the area, whom I like to refer to as ?non-reflectives??.. or coons. This was evident when the car was found with a boot full of Adidas clothing and the putrid stench of dirty boong. The car was apparently used in a ram raid and was basically good for nothing more than scrapping. This was a blessing in disguise; despite wrecking a classic collector?s car, this brought on the rise of the HG. That car deserves a story of its own, so we?ll get back to that one in a later chapter.
It was yet another Saturday night in the Queen St house, and the usual drinking in the kitchen party was taking place. Woodz, Lok, Haydz, Kelly and Skell were happily drinking Budweiser and chatting about the usual things like music, cars and the likes. The music was screaming out of the lounge room and it was getting to that stage of the night where the stereo would change songs, or even CD?s every 1 ? songs on average. This was a trait of Woodz and Skells, whereas Haydz and Lok were quite happy just listening to a whole album, or just put up with the mix that DJ Arrogant 1 & 2 were supplying.
Half a song had passed so Woodz decided it was his turn to wander off to the stereo. He walked from the sink side of the bench where he was standing, past the fridge and past Haydz who was standing next to the fridge. Everyone was engaged in conversation when all of a sudden Woodz came storming back into the kitchen with the same look on his face that he had while holding the couch above Ryan?s head. He walked over to the knife block and grabbed the longest knife he could find and marched back towards the lounge room screaming,
?I?m gunna kill the cunt!? Haydz stood in front of Woodz and tried to calm him down and hold him back not knowing what was waiting in the lounge room for Woodz and Haydz also knew Woodz?s tendency to go nuts and think about consequences later, evident in many of these stories.
?what?s going on man?? asked Haydz worriedly.
?There?s a fucking boong in the lounge room. I?m gunna kill him!?
Thinking fast, Haydz knew that this could only end with 2 possible outcomes ? either Woodz gets fucked up and seriously hurt or even killed, or the more likely scenario of Woodz killing the boong and spending the next 20 years in jail. Neither of these really appealed to anyone, so the group managed to talk Woodz down and reassess the situation. Needless to say, that knife was still in firm grasp, clenched into Woodz? hand. As expected, the boong stumbled into the kitchen, obviously under the influence of some sort of brain fucking drug. His nose was bleeding, evidence that he had been sniffing glue, petrol or some sort of solvent.
?Give me a beer?I like this? bud?. Weez? er stuff,? he sprouted, holding an empty stubbie in his hand that he had picked up off the table, trying his best to read the label through his drug fucked, and uneducated eyes.
?Nah man, you come to our house, you bring your own beer,? exclaimed Lok, boldly, perhaps even stupidly. Apparently the boong didn?t like that much at all, and started demanding beer, getting more and more feisty and aggressive in his approach. He picked up another empty stubbie, now one in each hand and gestured at the fact that he would smash the bottle on the table and use it as a weapon. Naturally this was kind of nerve racking for everyone involved.
Sensing that mayhem was about to break loose, Kelly, being the peace keeper that she was got a beer out of the fridge and gave it to him. This seemed to calm him down quite rapidly; although he was still wired from whatever it was that he had been sniffing. He started talking calmly, sated by the taste of quality beer. During his barely decipherable rant he pointed to the clock, one eye closed and proclaimed that ?by da time dis hand gets to dis hand, I could be back wiv drugs?, like that was supposed to impress anyone. Little did he realize there was a tin of mull on the table the whole time.
While the tension had eased somewhat, no-one was really too sure what was going to happen next. It was a similar feeling to being in your mate?s backyard with his bulldog. Sure, the dog might be licking you now, but just a few minutes ago it was ready to tear your ankles apart, and in the back of your mind you know that at any given time, your ankles could once again become tasty morsels. To use an old clich?, you could cut the tension with a knife, which strangely enough, at times it appeared as though Woodz was ready to do just that.
Somewhere in amongst the crazy talk that was going on it came out that his name was Avon. He was clearly a hardened criminal, and he didn?t mind telling people that either. In fact, he went out of his way to make sure everyone knew he was a bad ass. His knuckles were all busted and his fingers were bent, he had a scar on his face going from his ear all the way down his cheek and onto his chin that he claimed his brother had given him in a knife fight, and was generally a very ugly, hard looking dude that looked as though he belonged in jail. Turns out that was his last place of residence.
After some more incoherent ranting and bragging, he eventually left, leaving the house shaken and stunned about what had just taken place. The only cure that they knew for anything was beer, bongs and metal, so Dr Haydz packed a 6 shooter bong and everyone grabbed a beer and sat down to reflect on the incident. There was an uneasy feeling that this wasn?t going to be the last time Avon made an appearance. Their feelings would later prove to be correct.
A couple of days had passed and it was a nice quiet afternoon, when suddenly there was a knock at the door. Haydz answered the door to find Avon standing on the door step looking sheepish, holding a carton of Emu Export under his arm. He had come over to apologize for his antics that had taken place a couple of nights prior. The boys reluctantly let him in and they all sat down in the lounge room. It was strangely calm considering their initial meeting. It turned out that Avon was John, the respectable coon across the road?s cousin. Avon opened the carton and handed everyone a beer, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a foil of what would turn out to be some pretty nice smoke. Haydz, quick as a flash went and got the bong.
They sat around, drinking the coon present and having a nice casual session, which Avon declined on partaking in as he claimed not to smoke. He went on to explain how he had no idea what he was doing that night as he had been sniffing glue and that he was ashamed of the way he treated everyone and promised it would never happen again. After a couple of beers and a chat he realized that the boys were pretty cool, and he liked them enough to call them his ?bruddahs?. This seemed like a particularly big deal to him, so the boys accepted his apology and his brother hood.
From then on, Avon would drop around out of the blue every couple of weeks or so, presumably on dole day, often with a foil or a few beers and a story to share. Haydz, Lok and Avon sat and drank a couple of beers on one of these visits and Avon told them that if they ever ended up in jail anywhere south of the river, just mention his name and they would be looked after and respected by the other inmates. The boys assured him that the chances of ever needing his lifeline was extremely slim, but thanked him anyway.
As time went on Avon would come over and ask for small favours. One of these favours was asking Haydz to drive him and his mate to the bottle shop in Vic Park just up the Albany highway. Haydz didn?t mind, and he wanted something to drink as well. Avon?s way of paying Haydz back was to offer him a set of HSV Clubsport rims complete with tyres for his Commodore. As tempting at this was, all Haydz could think about was the poor bastard who would wake up one morning to find his precious HSV up on blocks with no wheels, so he graciously declined.
Another favour he asked of us was if we could spare a couple of panadol. Being the pissheads they were, there was always plenty of pain killers in the house, so Lok went to the bathroom cupboard and gave Avon 2 pills, thinking he must?ve had a headache. Avon thanks him and sat down at the kitchen table and proceeded to crush the pills up into powder and put it in a little plastic baggy.
?Um, what are you doing?? inquired Lok.
?Gunna sell these to some kids up the road. Easy fifty bucks bruz?.
Lok and Haydz shook their heads partially in disgust, but mostly in amusement.
Weeks had past and it was a week night, so all the boys were sound asleep when Haydz and Lok woke up simultaneously to some strange noises in the neighbourhood. Lok, armed with Woodz? RHS, and Haydz having grabbed Tommy from under his bed both cautiously opened the back door and scanned the scene. They took a step outside to find Avon and another boong on the roof of HQ boys recently vacated house, pulling tiles off the roof. Avon must have seen them, and he started quietly yelling out ?hey bruz?. Bruz? you wont tell the cops will you bruz??
?Nah man, whatever?.just leave our house alone,? replied Lok. Whether or not it was a coincidence is up for debate, but that was the last time either of them ever saw Avon.
-
:rofl:
Great stories man, highly entertaining!
:clap:
The Avon story reminds me of my time spent living in Westfield, lol.
-
:rofl:
Great stories man, highly entertaining!
:clap:
The Avon story reminds me of my time spent living in Westfield, lol.
the hardest part about it is remembering to stick to the third person format which I decided to stick with for some reason initially, and not slipping into we/us/me mode. I think there are a couple of those slip ups, but they will be edited properly in good time. Also, I have only read 1 1/2 books since leaving high school 12 years ago - and they were Slash and another Guns n Roses biography which Im half way through since christmas. :-[ Im sure it would help my writing to read some actual published literature, but quite simply... I cant be fucked.
The whole point of these stories is for my mate Woodz, who has since ended up in a wheel chair in a physically vegetated state (the dude we took to Iron Maiden in his wheel chair, as well as Immortal and a few others). He loves them, and they keep him smiling as they bring back some pretty cool memories of the funnest times in our lives. Thats the sole reason I started, and is still the main reason I write, but I find it quite soothing and great nostalgia trying to relive these events so I can turn them into text. It also turns out not one of us has a single photo of all those years at this house. Too drunk/stoned to worry about photos, but its something I regret now.
-
Cool, keep at it. Your writing style flows well regardless of whether you're an avid reader.
Very admirable reason for doing it too. :headbang:
-
Its awesome stuff! very amusing to read! :clap:
-
The bongs and boongs in that story twist together like some sort of demented Dr Zuess.
When boongs fight it is called a "boong battle".
When they battle on bongs it is called a "boong bong battle"
When boongs battle on bongs with bottles, it is called a Boong bong bottle battle."
When boongs battle boongs in a bong bottle battle while bouncing on your HQ, it's called a "boingin' bongin' boong bottle battle".
When boingin' boongs get baked on bottles of bourbon and bongs and battle boongs with bottles of beer, we call that a "boingin' bongin' beer/bourbon bottle boong battle".
When bunches of boingin' bongin' bourbon-baked bottle battling boongs battle boinging' bongin' beer-blasted bottle brandishing boongs in a bloody battle in Beechboro, that is called a "weekday".
-
hahaha.... funnily enough, Im going to start attempting to write quirky kids books soon too. Dr Seuss is hands down the best childrens author and Fox In Socks is my favourite.
-
The bongs and boongs in that story twist together like some sort of demented Dr Zuess.
When boongs fight it is called a "boong battle".
When they battle on bongs it is called a "boong bong battle"
When boongs battle on bongs with bottles, it is called a Boong bong bottle battle."
When boongs battle boongs in a bong bottle battle while bouncing on your HQ, it's called a "boingin' bongin' boong bottle battle".
When boingin' boongs get baked on bottles of bourbon and bongs and battle boongs with bottles of beer, we call that a "boingin' bongin' beer/bourbon bottle boong battle".
When bunches of boingin' bongin' bourbon-baked bottle battling boongs battle boinging' bongin' beer-blasted bottle brandishing boongs in a bloody battle in Beechboro, that is called a "weekday".
Holy fucking shit hahaha
-
The bongs and boongs in that story twist together like some sort of demented Dr Zuess.
When boongs fight it is called a "boong battle".
When they battle on bongs it is called a "boong bong battle"
When boongs battle on bongs with bottles, it is called a Boong bong bottle battle."
When boongs battle boongs in a bong bottle battle while bouncing on your HQ, it's called a "boingin' bongin' boong bottle battle".
When boingin' boongs get baked on bottles of bourbon and bongs and battle boongs with bottles of beer, we call that a "boingin' bongin' beer/bourbon bottle boong battle".
When bunches of boingin' bongin' bourbon-baked bottle battling boongs battle boinging' bongin' beer-blasted bottle brandishing boongs in a bloody battle in Beechboro, that is called a "weekday".
Alliteration win!
-
Hey Admiral, I saw another reference to Admiral Ackbar on 30Rock last night.
Not that there's anything wrong with that....
-
Is that that show with Alec Baldwin?
-
Yessir, it do be. Daz gave me the first three seasons, I'm ruining all my undies one episode at a time.
-
Yessir, it do be. Daz gave me the first three seasons, I'm ruining all my undies one episode at a time.
This has less to do with the show & more to do with jez's advancing years & his inability to control his bowels.
May i suggest:
(https://www.wf.com.au/forum/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2F2.bp.blogspot.com%2F_IMlyr5DDsLY%2FSlqTP2M6m5I%2FAAAAAAAABs8%2F7N5l7r7d-pE%2Fs400%2F6a00d8341c51c053ef00e54f04e0a98833-800wi.jpg&hash=1fe713de114c5284c42c9bebcc096be566663473)
-
Hahah, and the best part about that photo is the woman has the exact same body shape as Jez.
Could probably only just squeeze into a hula hoop as well.
;D
I'm almost tempted to do the photoshop job, but I'd rather keep my lunch down.
:sick:
-
I'm just too sexy for this site. ;D
-
Just never get too sexy for your shirt.
-
Just never get too sexy for your shirt.
So sexy it hurts ?
-
(https://www.wf.com.au/forum/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.sundaybrunchdress.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2008%2F12%2Frightsaidfred.jpg&hash=e3750b83b3ec3132c1b22fec1783d2570e6a6a74)