There’s never a black horse around when you need one.

J’s Diary Entry

Friday, 26 May 1995

Whooh! Friday night drinks are getting out of control.  It started at “Klicks”.  I was feeling slightly off-colour after a lunch of quiche and was in two minds about going.  I went anyway.  Being concerned about the state of my teeth, I drank neat shots of vodka to avoid sugary mixers. A mistake.  Because there wasn’t much to them, I drank them quickly and because there wasn’t as much fluid being consumed I pee’d less, and didn’t realize how drunk I was.  Or how dehydrated I was. I chatted a lot to Ida, the new girl.  She’s completely self obsessed when she’s drunk, but really nice.

We stayed until the bar closed and then caught two taxis to Nadia’s house,  there was Cav, me, and four others.  Once there Terri drove (pissed) Cav and I to the bottle shop where we bought a bottle of Stolichnaya, and then to a 24 Hours Coles for pasta ingredients.

Terri cooked, everyone chatted.  The conversation took a dull turn so Cav and I volunteered for the dishes.  Cav was delighted with our synchronicity.  He asked me in a whisper if I thought Terri would sleep with him.  I replied “You’re in with a chance.”  Just as Terri strode through the kitchen with an aggressive bark of “I heard that!” We tried swoozily to swim out the quicksand, but as I know from countless episodes of My Friend Flicker, you need a black horse with a piece of rope to get out of any quicksand, and we sunk pitifully.

Cav crashed on the couch and I seemed to get more and more drunk.  I tried to watch TV – no good.  I wanted to catch a taxi but didn’t know the address.  I vomited messily in the bathroom, cleaned it up quietly and got some sleep.  Woke, saw most of the vodka was gone and I lay back down half on the bean bag, half on the floor, with my head under the blankets when Cav unleashed a great, trumpeting, flabby fart.  I poked my head scruffily out of my nest, looked over at him quizzically and said “Well, morning has broken.”  He giggled, more to himself than me. Went into the kitchen to bring up bile, while Cav made fun of me from the lounge.  I was starting to experience some real pain and stomach cramps.


Saturday, 27 May 1995

Oh Lordy, seeeerious hangover.  After bringing up bile to the derisive amusement of Cav, and spending 10 minutes trying to fold a round blanket into quaters, I walked from Hawthorn to Church Street, Richmond, running into Ida on the way.  I couldn’t wait to get away from her, I smelt so bad – vodka, vomit and B.O!  I caught a tram up Bridge Road and wobbled into the McDonald’s opposite Flinder’s Street Station for another bile-up, but it ain’t easy climbing stairs inhaling air heavy with coffee and fast food and bring up bile all at the same time.  I must have looked like a Thunderbird.  I think I might have almost passed out going up those stairs.  I sat in the cubicle and rested for 10 minutes or so before splashing some water on my face and heading for the next tram.  The wait was mercifully swift.

I sat on my own in the tram, enveloped in my mix of B.O. and misery until 2 African ladies sat hesitantly beside me and chirped away in their language.  I’ll bet they said “My husband may beat me and circumcise me, but at least he doesn’t drink!”  I started to wretch again on the tram and had to get off two stops early, I sat in the gutter and spat frothy green bile like the head of a St Patrick’s Day Guinness into the gutter.  I looked at the wino on the other side of the road and thought “He’s only 30 years away.”  I stumbled home and collapsed on the floor as Leah told me how worried she was.  I eased into bed, fully clothed and continued to retch up bile with excruciating cramps until 6pm, when I could hold down some water.  I didn’t think I had drunk that much, I really didn’t. The saddest part is that I know I’ll probably do it again.


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