VOMIT.. and when I say vomit, I don't mean just a tad..

I'll set the scene, it's a Saturday night, the weather is a little rainy, I'm surrounded by people ready to party, all in high spirits, all a little tipsy, and all smiling.. then, there I am, with what can only be described as regurgitated chicken burgers and orange juice in my hair, someone elses clothes on, and my eyes rolling back into my head, slumped in my boyfriends arms. I was a mess.

The story goes like this (as I'm sure you are raring to hear the in's and out's of my chunder filled expedition), Maria picked me up to get ready for her birthday night out, we went to hers and had a bottle of vino between us, whilst we got ready, my make-up went on nicely (meaning the wine had not yet tipsyfied me, or it had tipsyfied me to the extent that I could not tell if my make-up was nice or not, I'm going to go with the former option), then we settled down for a few more beverages, vodka and orange juice was my choice of tipple, went down quite nicely, we wore some wigs, took some pics, all was very funny, I could feel the alcohol taking over now, as I was starting to tap my feet and shake my booty to music being played from youtube.. but I continued to chuck back the drinks, this time pink champagne.. what can now only be known as, the bubbles that pushed me over the edge..

Now if I'm honest, I don't really remember the walk/stumble to the station, or the train journey either, what I do remember however, is the first bought of vomit.. still on the train (classy) into my own lap (classy) out of my nose (classy) and then a train bin, being shoved into my face to catch said vomit.. I think it was too late for that.

All of a sudden we were off the train, I don't remember getting off it, I was possibly dragged? Then I was faced with the task of.. getting to the club.. I decided almost immediately that this was no longer a possibility, as my feet were not walking in the way my brain was telling them too (imagine a new born deer taking it's first steps) I kindly suggested that my friends go without me.. and leave me, I would be JUST FINE.. afterall, my boyfriend would be there soon to save the day..

Now another blank kicked in and I "woke up" on a platform, what one? I'm not sure, head in my hands, perched on a bench, still vomiting, it's funny how the station spins when you're in that position, and I felt something wet in my hand. No, it was not more vomit, it was a wetwipe, some kind stranger, had provided my with a wetwipe to mop myself. Now whilst this had a lovely sentiment behind it, it was about as useful as a tampon in a pint glass when it came to soaking up my vomit.

I used my bambi legs, and found a toilet on platform 6 (my new favorite place) and made it my new home for the evening, I continued to chunder, it looked like orange rice pudding, then I realised, that my clothes were saturated in bile and second hand alcohol, not a good look if I ever wanted to make it to my actual home, so off came the clothes, I cleaned myself up using allot of toilet tissue, works wonders, who needs showers?? Then I called upon the opinion of some superhero look-alikes that were queuing for the toilet that I had been in so long that I could claim squatters rights for. They agree'd that my clothes would probably never be the same again, and were definately not fit to be worn home. So I threw them in the out of order toilet that was next to my home-toilet.

There I was, sick stained, in my bra and pants, barefoot in a stinky public toilet, finding this all QUITE amusing, when I suddenly remembered that Benjamin was coming to my rescue, I peeked from behind the toilets, and there he was, looking straight at me, with a disappointed/confused/embarassed look upon his face, my face was overwhelmed with happiness that I would not have to fashion a dress out of toilet paper and stumble home alone, I would have someone to laugh at me while I was doing it, but to my avail, he had CLOTHES for me to wear, now they weren't my clothes, they were his, which made the fit slightly loose, and long in the legs, but they were clothes none-the less! I donned my Asda trousers and Charlton shirt, and followed Benjamin to a train.. I was doing a whole new walk of shame, as please bare in mind it was no later than 11pm.

I did a tiny bit more sick on the train, my amazing boyfriend was so concerned, for his clothes, and held back my hair for me.

We got home, I bathed, I laughed, and I passed out.

In conculsion, I am now, on the wagon.. for now..