The Lank Tank

Why so serious?

Posts Tagged ‘drunk’

10 things thought of when drunk:

Posted by lanktank on June 8, 2009

This entry was brought to you by Kappie

  1. I’m a great singer.
  2. That person is definitely into me.
  3. Of course I can jump that fence.
  4. I don’t believe that fence is electrified….bzzzzzz
  5. One more drink won’t hurt.
  6. Everything I think of makes complete sense; I wonder why I never thought of it this way before?
  7. You don’t mind if I just lay my head here for a short while do you?
  8. I know! I’ll send my ex an SMS.
  9. Same time tomorrow night? Hell yeah!
  10. That make-up would look good on me.

So… maybe you haven’t thought or done all of them… but you will… one day.

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Weekend Memories

Posted by Girl Next Door on March 18, 2009

This blog entry was brought to you by GND

I don’t think I’ve ever drunk so much or slept as little as I did last weekend. The crew informed me as to what actually went down, bar the little fragments that pop into my head every couple of days. Apparently on Friday night I met the love of my life, but I got bored when he couldn’t stop talking about himself. I woke up on Saturday morning sitting upright in bed with the light on, always a sign of a great night out.

Saturday was interesting, we basically drank Cape Town. You know when you drink too much the night before and no matter how hard you try to get drunk the next night it just doesn’t happen? Ya well that never happened. I remember awesome punch and too many hot boys at a house party in Kalk Bay. There were a couple of drinks in Long Street with the friends who’d just got back from Canada. We were in a poker room at one stage, drinking too many jagermeisters. We watched with excitement while Mr Joburg tried to roll a joint with till-slip paper. We got into an argument with every bouncer who wouldn’t let us into their club. Before we realized it was 3.45am. We ended up in La Reference – do yourself a favour and check that place out next time you’re in Long St, it’s a truly magical experience. We got back to the flat and what an exquisite time that was.

Mr Joburg: (on the phone) Ya bru we just got back, where you? Oh my god Little L your flat is increeeeedible!
Little L: What? It’s not mine, it’s GND’s brother’s place. They’re in Joburg.
Mr Joburg: I’m in Joburg.
Little L: No you’re in Cape Town. Want a pie?
Mr Joburg: When did you move to this place? The view is just amazing!
Big D: It’s not her flat retard. Eat your pie.
Mr Joburg: No offense Little L but you look like a boy in your baby pictures.
Little L: It’s not me, it’s GND’s brother.
Mr Joburg: Why are you in GND’s brother’s baby pictures?
Big D: I think the IFP are coming

On another note, I would like to commend The New Girl on getting her car trapped in the telephone pole at the top of my road on Saturday night. I’m beginning to think she paid for her license as last week, after calling a tow-truck because her car wouldn’t start, they told her it was just the steering wheel that was locked.

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Down with V-Day

Posted by lanktank on February 17, 2009

This blog entry was brought to you by Kappie

Firstly I would just like to say…Valentine’s Day sucks and secondly Jimbo is a knob.

The three shirt plan was a complete disaster, thanks to Jimbo. For some reason I counted on him to bring me a yellow and a green shirt. This of course didn’t happen so I was stuck in my red shirt the entire night.

It was as if I had the plague. The only girl who spoke to me was the bar-lady, who couldn’t even get my drinks order right. Jimbo, on the other hand, had the best night of his life. I’m pretty sure at one point in the evening I saw him making out with two girls simultaneously. When I tried introducing myself to one of his girls he had around him all I got was a fifty to buy a round of drinks at the bar. I evidently did go buy her a drink and on my return, all three of them had left, leaving me without a lift.

I should have used that fifty for a taxi but instead I bought four tequilas and had them all myself. Big mistake. At least it got me on the dance-floor, so things picked up for me just a little. Until the tequila had thought I’d had enough fun for one night, hit me for six and got me kicked out the club for reasons I still don’t know. I walked round the corner and proceeded to hurl my guts out. After a few minutes of what felt like exorcism, I felt a hand on my back. Was it an angel? No, it was not. I looked up and saw a girl in her late twenties but looked like she was in her late forties. Long red, curly hair, layers and layers of black clothing, black chewed up nails, and at least three missing teeth.

She offered to take me home…I really should have specified whose home. DAMN YOU JIMBO!!!

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