New Year's Eve was marked with celebration. We had a number of friends coming for dinner, Best Friend staying with us for the night, 18 bottles of the fizzy stuff and a great big fuck-off package of rockets. The night was looking good. Angus, Best Friend and I spent a lot of time making bits and bites-vol au vents of shrimp and crab meat. Creamy twice baked potatoes. More homemade dips than at an Aggies game. Enough beer and wine to bathe in.

It was big fun, actually.

By the time people arrived with their dishes, we were in high party mode. Candles lit around the house and festive music playing. The cats were on guard, having been through a racuous Christmas, and knowing that an event could rapidly turn into party popper streaming exploding at a moment's notice, thereby necessitating a slink along the ground to the caverns of the upstairs. Best Friend in particular was doing well, which was a good thing-it would've been his ten year anniversary, and he was trying to keep the demons at bay (and he's setting up his own blog to tell his own stories shortly).

Everything went fabulously. Wine flowed for some (like myself) and beer for others. I learnt my lesson a while ago-never mix grape and grain unless you're making muesli-so I stuck to the wine until the fizzy stuff got opened. At around midnight we dashed outside to the cricket green and started lighting the rockets.

I never had fireworks of my own in the States, as they're illegal. We had some very tame ones once in Arkansas, but beyond that it was sparkler city. No fireworks. Verbotten. Not allowed. So when I moved to Sweden and found I could actually buy them and set them off, I could literally burn up my money, I thought I'd hit pay dirt. Angus loves them as well, so we love buying enormous rockets to set them off with a bang (sometimes a cigar is just a cigar).

Of course, this doesn't mean I am so world-wise about using them. I got a baby rocket out of the pack, a very small one, and I knew it had to be standing up. So I planted it in the ground, lit it, and ran. Of course the fuse went off, but seeing as I had planted the stick it sent brilliant sparkling pink crackles right into the ground. It looked pretty. It also burned a one foot circumference black scalding mark right into the cricket green.

Lesson learnt, the rest of it went well, including the kissing at midnight.

Back to the house after that, where the champagne flowed. A few bottles got opened, as did the whiskey for the men-folk with a hankering. A few guests started making their apologies, swerving out of the house and walking back to theirs with a giddy drunken gorgeousness. Finally, it was just Angus, Best Friend and I. I went to do another load of dishes while Angus and Best Friend kept drinking. Walking back, I realized that everything was moving with a flip-flip-flip like those picture books that illustrate how movie frames work. Everything was flip-flip-flipping...at a 45 degree angle.

And it was thus I uttered the words on college campuses everywhere: Dude, I am drunk. Really drunk.

I made my way to the bed and passed clean out, waking in the middle of the night to drink some water and down some paracetamol. When I woke, I realized I was alone in the bed and went downstairs to see Angus, looking grey, a pillow on his forehead.

"Hi Honey." I said. "Want some paracetamol?"

"I'm having a bit of a time holding things down right now, actually." he replied. "But thanks."

I nod, and realized my insides felt a bit dodgy. I take a long swig of orange juice and then I made it upstairs in time for an absolute colon clean out. Shaking, I made my way back to the bed. Then had to dash back to the toilet. This repeated itself four times, until the fifth time, wondering what the hell could still be left in my intestines, I reached the door with a new connundrum. What do you do if there is about to be icky shooting out from both ends? How do you spin the roulette wheel then?

I took my chances and sat on the toilet to the fifth explosion of the day, luckily not with pink sparkles. And as I sat there, I realized there was no stopping it. My mouth opened and I threw up orange juice all over my legs. And me-germ-phobic, dodgy me-didn't even get upset. I was too hung over to get upset. I just thought, with the chainmail-clad knight's grimness: You have chosen...poorly.

I cleaned myself up and went back to bed, toilet dashing with its new dimension occuring a few more times. There reached a point when I had to get up-Best Friend had to be taken to the airport. I took a short bath, pleased I was able to do so. Angus had crawled back to bed, so I decided to take Best Friend to the airport and hope for the best. I was drinking water, and keeping it down, so I thought it was a good sign.

Best Friend, with absolutely no hangover, was chatty and normal on the drive. As for me, I had to make sure I didn't turn to look at him, as turning my head would be bad. Very bad. I started feeling the rumblings of ill again, but I promised myself to hold on. I dropped Best Friend off at Heathrow with a hug goodbye and sped home...only just out of Heathrow I knew I wouldn't make it.

Praying paratroopers suspecting me of terrorism would be held at bay, I pulled over outside the airport entrance and threw my ever-loving guts up. It was all Exorcist, baby, only orange juice and water instead of pea soup. My jaws and throat ached as my stomach pushed everything out at what felt like 90 miles an hour. When I was done, I rinsed my mouth out and looked at my face-my eyes were streaked with broken blood vessels and the pettichiae that come with too much strain. I looked awful.

I made it home and crawled into bed with Angus, where we intermittently slept until declaring ourselves fully recovered, sometime late in the evening. And now, a few days of quiet, loads of laundry and dishes later, we are happy and ok. And a few pounds lighter.

Thus, we had a very Happy New Year. No really. We did. It was just the day after that was a bit rough. Reduced to two trembling phlegmatic babes, we took care of each other and even got the shagging in the next day, to welcome in the New Year.

Who cares if it was one day late.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 09:52 AM | Comments (11) | Add Comment
Post contains 1169 words, total size 6 kb.

1 Hopefully, you have successfully purged the contents of the old year and have nothing to look forward to but the good things to come take their place! Happy New Year, my friend! May it be a healthy and prosperous one for you and yours.

Posted by: RP at January 04, 2005 12:11 PM (X3Lfs)

2 Right after you threw up on yourself you thought, "You have chosen poorly." But consider if you had reversed the order and thrown up first; you might now be telling us that you soiled yourself. As to the order of purging, I think you chose wisely

Posted by: Solomon at January 04, 2005 01:05 PM (k1sTy)

3 Ouch. I have to go with the wisdom of Solomon on this one. You made the right choice, I'd say. I suppose there are some advantages for falling asleep before the ball drops, eh? :-)

Posted by: Jennifer at January 04, 2005 01:28 PM (jl9h0)

4 As one who has had to clean up the opposite choice--it was when 1st born had the flu--you chose wisely. Luckily our WC is right next to the tub, so in a pinch one can throw up into the tub. Hangovers are never fun, but it's been my experience that the wine hangovers are the WORST. My head just pounds the next day.

Posted by: Easy at January 04, 2005 01:32 PM (9y6FP)

5 What do you do when you realize icky is going to come out both ends? I know this one, as I had been a chronically sick child...you keep a bucket at the ready and hold it on your lap. Heh...you joined that website. As if you need any more traffic.

Posted by: Kate at January 04, 2005 02:03 PM (Tv6ZW)

6 Hoo-boy. Sounds like it was a genuine event. ;-) Happy New Year!

Posted by: Jim at January 04, 2005 03:35 PM (tyQ8y)

7 doh! it's rough to be sick like that. i also think you made the right choice there...and i'm with kate, a bucket in your lap is the way to go (if you aren't that prepared, emptying out the bathroom trashcan and using that will do...or the bathroom sink if you can easily lean towards it is another option...yeah, i've done both of these things in the past...ugh.)

Posted by: kat at January 04, 2005 04:18 PM (ejrqO)

8 Just to extend my thanks for a great evening and ensuring that there were no demons in sight When I was awoken by The Exorcist part one my Mulder half thought that my blue cheese dip had come back to haunt one of my hosts - of course the excuse of heavy drinking was immediately - if not entirely convincingly - advocated by the Scully in me ... H's [quiet] assertion that "no, really it was the drink", smacked slightly of a government cover-up perhaps with overtones of aliens and probing ... I have, however, chosen not to reveal these fears until now ... I still have not thought of a domain name for my blog but hoped if I relaxed my brain enough on the 31st one would come to me - it didn't all suggestions gratefully received (H says you lot are very, um, inventive)

Posted by: Best Friend at January 04, 2005 04:49 PM (/SIeu)

9 January 2nd, National Hangover Day. The World Over, I see. :-)

Posted by: Amber at January 04, 2005 06:41 PM (zQE5D)

10 Better than a diet! Maybe you should consider nonalcoholic celebrations in the future....

Posted by: Annette at January 04, 2005 06:59 PM (mh0mo)

11 Best Friend: What will be the general topic or theme of your blog? Political, personal, sports, every day living, everything,...? That may help the "inventive" juices flow. And I'm very sorry your 10th anniversary didn't occur, that had to be rough.

Posted by: Solomon at January 04, 2005 08:24 PM (k1sTy)

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