Don't worry, Steven, you'll get over it.

red_bus wrote:...and I am not just saying that because I have been drinking heavily (although i have, and probably should step away from the keyboard).  

Now, let's to ebay and do some serious bidding...

Alcohol brings out the best in some people!  

red_bus wrote:...and I am not just saying that because I have been drinking heavily (although i have, and probably should step away from the keyboard).

Your aren't in Tassie right now are you?  If so you would have a good reason for drinking!

i personally think he went and got sozzled due to the success of his MERP auctions on ebay

Al

Nice one Steven!

Good to hear you've taken the sensible approach and are working on increasing the old alcohol tolerance .. an absolute necessity for students.

If Brentford make to the play-offs perhaps a pub crawl along the South Bank and a juke at your woody could be arranged (ooh er missus!!!!!).


PS all commitments to social contact involving copious amounts of alcohol are subject to consideration by the Mrs obiter verification committee whose findings may be subject to change at any time without notice

Looks like a fine place to tie one on.  The best thing they've got going for themselves is the fact they don't serve Tapas.  

Growing up in Wisconsin, I knew a guy who was an avid duck hunter.  He'd get up early on fall mornings, travel way out into the heart of the marshland, and sit all day waiting to shoot ducks.  Not my kind of thing, but he was an interesting guy.  We called him "Mort the Duck".  Anyway, he told me a story about having gone out to hunt one cold day despite coming down with an awful upper respiratory infection.  As the morning wore on, he became more and more ill.  Finally, he realized he had to trek back out to his car and get home to bed.  But by the time he started back, he was feeling feverish, shaky, weak, the whole thing.  And thirsty beyond belief.  He was damn near stumbling blindly through the cattails and marsh grass, afraid he wouldn't find his way out.  For some reason, it occurred to him that the only way to clear his senses would be to take a big drink of water.  Since he had none with him, he fought back his instincts and revulsion, and finally knelt down and took a long drink of the black swamp water he was hiking through.  It tasted like ass (so he says; I've never been there myself - neither the swamp nor the ass, that is).  He drank and drank, and had to fight back the urge to puke it back up.  Many years later, he told me he's never been the slightest bit ill since.

bombadil wrote:Looks like a fine place to tie one on.  The best thing they've got going for themselves is the fact they don't serve Tapas.  

Growing up in Wisconsin, I knew a guy who was an avid duck hunter.  He'd get up early on fall mornings, travel way out into the heart of the marshland, and sit all day waiting to shoot ducks.  Not my kind of thing, but he was an interesting guy.  We called him "Mort the Duck".  Anyway, he told me a story about having gone out to hunt one cold day despite coming down with an awful upper respiratory infection.  As the morning wore on, he became more and more ill.  Finally, he realized he had to trek back out to his car and get home to bed.  But by the time he started back, he was feeling feverish, shaky, weak, the whole thing.  And thirsty beyond belief.  He was damn near stumbling blindly through the cattails and marsh grass, afraid he wouldn't find his way out.  For some reason, it occurred to him that the only way to clear his senses would be to take a big drink of water.  Since he had none with him, he fought back his instincts and revulsion, and finally knelt down and took a long drink of the black swamp water he was hiking through.  It tasted like ass (so he says; I've never been there myself - neither the swamp nor the ass, that is).  He drank and drank, and had to fight back the urge to puke it back up.  Many years later, he told me he's never been the slightest bit ill since.

         My mother is a cajun and that entire side of the family is from the Louisiana swamps.  They said that when boys got to a certain age, they would go with their dads/older brothers and spend a night in the swamp hunting (didn't matter what, coon, bobcat, possum, whatever).  The result was about 10,000 mosquito bites all over the body from head to toe.  My mom said the boys would like like they had the chicken pox only worse.  However, a side effect was that the boys would NEVER be bothered by mosquito bites again.  They would very rarely ever be bitten by a mosquito ever again, and when they did it wouldn't itch or swell up.  Weird, but my uncle (my mom's older brother) verified this many times when asked!  
         Now with stuff like West Nile Virus and such I don't know if it's a good idea to do this nowadays, but as a race we have gotten a little wussified due to too many anti-bacterial washes, germ free soaps, sprays that protect you from every type of insect, etc.  No one is building up any sort of tolerance anymore to the outdoors, I'm going to start taking my grandson out camping as soon as he's old enough to get him accustomed to that and hopefully build up his immune system...

Mike B.

I live in the Wisconsin northwoods.

Within 5 miles of my house there's more lake and swamp than land.

Interestingly, the bugs don't bother me either, though I do have some mild allergies (pollens, the wrong animal hair, etc).

"Bradley's Spanish Bar"

    Somehow, Spain and beer just don't seem to mix in my mind.  It sounds like a place where extremely thin people serve drinks with unpronounceable names.  

    "Yes, I'd like another Castilligone...this time with a twist of santiaginionie.  Si, si...bueno."
 

Mark