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Monday 30 July 2012

I'm never drinking again...


“What the....? Where am I?” Waking up freezing, I looked around and realised I had been sleeping somewhere outside on a hard concrete floor in the middle of the night. 

Trying to get up, I stumbled, still drunk, backwards and landed on my bum. “Where the hell are we?” I said in a loud whisper to my best friend. “Hey, wake up!” I whisper yelled, elbowing the lifeless body beside me.
My besty stirred slightly, and lifted her head just enough to vomit on the grass beside her. The stench of warm bile, a combination of Fruity Lexia and orange juice mixed with stomach acid which BFF regurgitated, was a familiar smell that filled my nostrils. Retching and heaving, barely able to keep her head up, BFF groaned and rolled back on her stomach. 

“Seriously, where the hell are we?” I asked again. “Fucked if I know” BFF whispered. Too scared to talk too loudly in case we were in someone’s backyard, we knew there was a strong possibility we could be anywhere.

The two of us were no stranger to drunken weekends, and waking up in strange places. In fact, it was more than a regular occurrence. Looking down, I realised I had been sleeping in a skirt, cardigan and just my bra. Vaguely remembering taking my top off sometime earlier, slowly the nights events came back in a drunken haze. I remembered washing my top earlier after I had vomited all over myself and hanging it over a tree branch to dry.

Scrambling to my feet again, holding onto the wall beside me for balance, I searched the tree’s closest to where we had been sleeping, and found my white singlet top. Although it looked more like a pale shade of yellowy brown all over the front. ‘Mum’ll love getting that out’ I thought to myself. 

Limping back to where my best friend was passed back out, I realised I was only wearing one shoe. Limping around the perimeter of the building we were sleeping beside, I searched all the way around for my missing shoe. In the moonlight that beamed through the trees in the garden, I could see that the building was an old church that we had stopped at when we had gotten out of the taxi when I had thrown up on myself earlier. 

Vomiting quietly in the back seat, we had told the taxi driver we wanted to walk the rest of the way into the town’s nightclub district because we needed air. Leaving a friend in the taxi to take the blame once he reached his destination! ‘He’s gonna kill us’ I thought. ‘I wonder how mad the driver was’. Still unable to locate my shoe, I made my way back to where my friend was passed out.

“Have you seen my shoe?” No answer. “Hey, have you seen my shoe” I said again, a little more loudly this time. “Here!” My friend lifted her head and pulled the shoe out, throwing it towards me. “I used it as a pillow, must have come off when you fell over earlier”. Suddenly remembering stumbling up the steps of the front of the church, I looked down at the blood that had dried on my leg. It looked black in the dark. ‘Ha, another war injury!’ I chuckled to myself, proud of my drunken antics. 

BFF had scrambled to her feet by now, and was wandering around trying to get her “sea legs” as they called the dizzy drunken walk people did after being passed out. “Did you find your top? I can’t believe we passed out behind a church” BFF said with wry amusement. “The boys would be proud”. “Hmm yeah...we can totally still go out right? We have more drinking to do!” I said. “If I do my cardigan up, you can’t tell I spewed can you?”

Whooo, hold up a minute. What are we thinking? 17 years old, blind drunk in the middle of Geelong, 2 girls on their own, stumbling around a church? How can we possibly make amends for being so stupid?

“We better do some Hail Mary’s and prey for defiling the church!” BFF said as if reading my thoughts for making up for being so disrespectful. “I think we owe more than that for being so stupid” I muttered under my breath. “Lucky we woke up before morning mass I guess!”

Collecting our shoes and clothes, and tidying ourselves as best we could, we made our way back onto the main street, and headed towards the nightclub district. Shuffling along like 80 year old grandma’s, trying to look sober, we stumbled along the road. The dawn haze began to settle in front of us, a few people were at the truck stop getting early morning bacon and egg breakfasts, the smell made me feel ill. One or two cars passed, but the street was strangely quiet. Laughing about our adventure, stopping a few times to fix our heels and spitting to try and get rid of the spew taste in our mouths, we looked more like cheap hookers than 17 year old students...although my BFF was 18, so at least one of us was legal I guess.

“Beep, beep” A car tooted at us. Turning around, we saw a little white car approaching. “Piss off!” BFF yelled at the driver as they slowed down, sticking her finger up at them. “Fucking paedophile, we’re 17! Piss off!” She yelled again, as we sped up, heads down, walking as fast as we could go. The older of the two of us, BFF was the street smart one. Act tough, and people don’t mess with you.

One rule of wandering the streets at night, never talk to anyone in a car, and never make eye contact. It can get you jumped, or worse. Much worse. The hair stood up on the back of my neck. My heartbeat quickened, and I was walking as fast as possible in my new k-mart heels. ‘What the hell are we doing here, how did I end up like this!?’ I thought, as the bile welled up in my throat again. ‘Good lord don’t vomit you idiot’ I said to myself again.

“Keep walking and don’t look at them” BFF instructed. “I’ve got my flask in my sock, so don’t worry, they can’t hurt us, I’ll hit them with it”. Knowing full well that BFF was telling the truth, she never went clubbing without her stainless steel Jim Beam filled flask wedged in her old black doc martins, I still didn’t feel any safer. It was at least 3am, walking down the street with nobody else around by this stage, and cars didn’t slow down and follow you for no reason. 

“Beep, beep” again the driver tooted the horn at us. Swiftly, BFF bent down and pulled her pant leg up, taking the little flask out. “Keep walking!” She told me again. “Fast!”

The little white car sped up a little bit, until it was a few meters in front of us, and then pulled up to the curb. The engine stalled, and the car door opened. I heard all this, but still hadn’t looked up. “I’ve got a knife, and I’ll fucking stab you in the face if you come near us, just fuck off!” BFF yelled at the driver. 

“What the hell are you two idiots doing?” A familiar female voice yelled back at us. Looking up, a flood of relief rushed through me. “Thank god it’s you!” Both of us said simultaneously. Running towards the driver, we hugged her, and she immediately jumped back. 

“You both stink of spew! What in hell have you been doing? Oh god Nik, have you got spew all over you?” She shrieked. Standing under the street lamp, our appearance left much to be desired. In short, we looked like crap. Our saviour, a girl a few months older than me, who we played netball with, had seen us walking and decided to make sure it was definitely us before she pulled over. She had just finished her shift at a local bar, and was on her way home. 

“What are you guys still doing out, its 5am!” “5am?” I said, “How many hours were we passed out for?” Rolling her eyes, a gesture not lost on both of us, our saviour opened the back door to her car. “Get in, I’m taking you guys home”. She huffed. “Nah, were going out still” BFF answered, immediately getting defensive. 

How dare this bitch think she’s better than us! 

“I said GET IN” Saviour insisted. “And I said we’re fine, were GOING OUT” BFF replied.

“Going where you moron’s? Into town? What do you think is still open, its 5am! And your 17 Nik! You won’t get in anywhere anyway!” She snarled. Looking at the ground, I felt ashamed. I'd been sneaking into nightclub's since I was 16. Here was this girl, who I looked up to, seeing me like this and looking at us as though we were gutter trash. Well, weren’t we? We had thrown up all over ourselves, passed out at a church, woken up and decided we were still fine to go out drinking and dancing. Pretty much the epitome of gutter trash. 

“I think we should go home, I don’t feel so good” I said. “Don’t you dare spew in my car Nik!” Saviour hissed, getting pretty tired with the conversation. She was trying to be nice by offering to take us two little shit’s home, and she was getting abused for it!

“Sorry, I’m just pissed off, that’s all” BFF apologised, “I didn’t realise it was 5am, I thought it was about 2am, we got in here at about 11.30pm, we must have passed out for hours.” 

“It’s ok, just get in, I’ll take you back home. I’m tired and its freezing, I’m not standing here arguing about it with you” Saviour said, really over the whole debacle by now. “Are you going to spew Nik?” She asked me. “No I’m ok, just really tired now, I need bed.... and maybe Macca’s on the way home?” I pushed my luck. 

“Ok, let’s go, you can shout me Macca’s then” Saviour laughed.

Sitting in the back seat of our 'hero’s' little white Corolla, I reflected on the night’s events. Or what I could remember. BFF’s boyfriend had picked us up and taken us to a party at his mate’s house. We’d spent the night playing cards, listening to AC/DC and Quiet Riot and getting drunk on cask wine and orange juice. In fact we had drunk a whole cask between the 2 of us. Then another mate had suggested we head into the club’s to keep drinking, so we literally commando rolled down the steps out of the bungalow and waited for the taxi. Other than telling BFF that I felt sick, and then vomiting in the taxi, the next 5 hours were a complete blank until I woke up at the church. 

Anything could have happened, what am I doing?  What if someone robbed us, or even worse, raped us! It was nice not to remember something for a while though...I’d like to do that more often.

Arriving home and then heading to bed, I felt sick at the thought that I had to be up for netball in 2 hours for the first final. 

The team’s counting on me to play well and I’m going to be hungover.... great! I’m never drinking again!

That wasn’t the first time I’d said that, and for the next 12 years it certainly wouldn’t be the last.....

Monday 23 July 2012

Sewing The Seed


So....I bet you’re all wondering whether hubby was able to stay sober at the wedding!? Well, you’re going to have to wait a little longer.... I need a little bit of a build up.

The Friday before our wedding was hectic, running around doing last minute things, trying to tick off every last thing from the list as well as still pack our bags as we had hired an estate in Macedon to have our wedding. The estate, called Lawson Lodge, has a reception centre as well as a huge house that accommodates 20 people, the perfect number for us, our parents, siblings and bridal party.
We hired the whole place exclusively, and were leaving on the Friday lunchtime to head up there with our nearest and dearest to relax, finalise all the preparations, and to do our wedding rehearsal. Hubby and his band mates had chosen this day to do the final mastering of their cd. They all had the day off because they were in the bridal party, so of course they knew they’d have nothing better to do, and were better off keeping out of the way.

Once they finally got home, the cars were packed, and we all jumped in and headed up the Calder Fwy to Macedon to begin our wedding weekend.

As you can imagine, on arrival, can’s were cracked, bottles opened, and the booze began to flow. I tried not to get involved, I wanted to make sure all the tables were set for the reception the night before, so I could relax and just get ready the next day. So my girls and I ignored the champagne and finalised the table settings, put out bonbonnieres and place cards, organised the last minute changes and coordinated the delivery of the hired goods that we’d organised for our garden wedding the next day.

Our parents arrived, and our celebrant, as well as a few extra friends and family who had come up to help out with last minute preparations and to have dinner and drinks with us to celebrate our last night of freedom.
Everything seemed to be going well, other than the usual hiccups, the boys were all a little tipsy and didn’t listen during rehearsal, but that’s pretty normal right? Then after dinner our bridal party was getting together to finalise their speeches, they had decided that they all wanted to say a little something (all 10 of them) so they wanted to make it good. Of course the boys were just bringing up drunken stories about hubby, and one of the girls casually brought up that the day was about the bride as well. A seemingly innocent comment right!? Apparently not for one of the groomsmen who was known for his acid tongue (especially when drinking). He pretty well went off his head and half the girls came away crying. 

Great! Just what I needed, the bridal party not speaking to each other. Fantastic!

A few hours later, our parents went off to bed, everyone else was in the sports bar having a few beverage’s, and most of us girls decided to head back up to the house to get showered and jump into our pj’s to gossip as girls do the night before a wedding. I could hear some yelling, and people seemed to have decided to jump in the huge spa between the reception centre and the house. I had no problem with this, the area was closed in, and surely our friends would be respectful and keep it down a bit, especially the night before our wedding right? Wrong!

It got to about midnight, and my favourite cousin arrived after another wedding she had to attend, and was greeted by drunken idiots running around outside and then once she was inside was overwhelmed by the noise of a male and female having a heated fight, things were being thrown around, thudding noises, and yelling. It was coming from the room of the same douche that had offended all the girls by yelling at them. My cousin was ever so pleased to find out this was her partner in the bridal procession!

I let it go for a minute or two, and then went into hubby-to-be who had just gone to bed (I was very happy to see and hear that he wasn’t one of the trouble makers outside). I went into our room and said “You can hear that right?” just as he was getting out of bed seething. “Do these idiots realise it’s the night before our wedding?” He said. “I’m going to kill them!” Good grief, I thought, that’s not going to help anyone. “Let me go, surely they won’t abuse the bride.”

I banged on the door to the room which did seem to have quietened down. “If you’re hitting her, I’m going to smash you, get the fuck out here now!” I yelled... I’d never been so angry in my life. Thinking that your so called friends are having a domestic abuse issue isn’t easy to grasp, and I was ready to punch this dude if it meant getting him away from his girlfriend. They both came out looking sheepish, her half naked, getting into her bikini. “Oh no, were just mucking around, we’re getting changed to go into the spa”. Well how nice for you! “Oh it’s nice to know you’d stick up for me though if I was being abused” Oh how lovely, of course I bloody well would! “Just keep it down, its midnight, our parents are in bed downstairs, and we have to be up at 6am to get our hair and make-up done, I don’t mind people having fun, but have some respect”. They raced downstairs saying “Yeah no worries” As you can imagine I was filled with confidence.

Walking back to where my best friends were, I just muttered “I’m going to shower” and headed into my room. “What the fuck where they doing?” asked hubby to be. “Just getting ready to go down to the spa apparently” I muttered. “I’m going to kill them” growled hubby to be. “Just leave it bub, it’s not worth the hassle”. I grabbed my stuff, rushed into the bathroom, turned on the water and burst into tears. ‘I really hate people when they drink’ I thought to myself, ‘Thank god hubby to be is in bed, safe and sound, and not running amuck with the rest of them’. I sat on the huge shower floor, and cried as I shaved my legs, and washed my hair, the night before my wedding. ‘I’m not putting up with this shit anymore, I’m done with it. What am I going to have to deal with tomorrow once the free grog starts flowing if it’s this bad tonight?’

I went to sleep wondering what the next day was going to be like. I remember thinking, I’m not taking responsibility for anyone else, my Dad will kill anyone who ruins this day, all I care about is that hubby has the sense to stay out of trouble.

The next day all seemed to be forgotten. Most of the guys woke up with hangovers, all of us girls were fresh as a daisy and our hair and make-up started and that was the last I saw of my husband to be before our ceremony. I tried not to think about his friends egging him on to have a few beers while they got ready. Who was I to begrudge him a few to settle the nerves? Besides, the champagne was flowing already as the girls and I got ready, and I was happy to be marrying the man I love.

Our ceremony was amazing, and as soon as it was over, people were off and running towards the alcohol. I remember thinking to myself, ‘Settle down people, it’ll still be there after the photo’s’. But the booze was more important than people posing for our wedding shots. My now husband was getting increasingly agitated. But not because he wasn’t drinking much, but that our bridal party were more concerned with getting beers than photos. He told me he had a couple during the morning while getting ready, but that there was no chance he was letting me down today. I knew then and there that there was no chance he was getting drunk tonight. That feeling filled me with so much relief, and I didn’t care what everyone else did from that point on. All that mattered to me was that our wedding day meant more to him than drinking.

The rest of the day went off without a hitch, and was the most incredible day of my life. Other than the power going out for about 30 seconds during our bridal waltz, everything else ran exactly to plan. Everyone pretty much behaved, the venue didn’t get wrecked; only a few people spewed, either hubby or I got drunk and we still all had an amazing time! Our speeches were unforgettable, our whole bridal party were amazing, everyone had a ball, and I will never forget even one second of our day.

At the end of the night, we were hit with an extra $1500.00 to our bill from people taking booze from one of the fridges, but the fact it wasn’t my husband or I that was doing it, meant the world to me. What’s another $1500.00 if everyone had fun?

After heading back to the house after the reception, a fair few people stayed around for more drinks, and I was so happy to be with the people that meant the most to me in the world. 

When we finally fell into bed, I refused to take off my wedding dress, and didn’t want to go to sleep because it meant the day was over. We lay awake talking about what an amazing day we’d had, and how much we really did hate alcohol. I thought about times when I’d potentially ruined people’s special occasions with my drinking. It also struck me how unusual it was for my husband to stay away from the trouble, and also not encourage it. He’d not only abstained, but was so livid about other people’s disrespect when they were drinking.

I’ve never in my life been so proud of my new husband and myself for being able to control ourselves and not drink much. “Maybe this lifestyle could be easier than I thought?”

The seed had been sewn!

Monday 16 July 2012

Getting Started

So, I don't really know how this blogging stuff works, but I was up early this morning to let a plumber in, and had nothing to do other than go back to bed once he left, so I had the bright idea to start a blog.

What would I write about though? I'm not interesting! But then I realised neither are 99% of other bloggers, so why not join them so I can crap on about myself. Maybe that will stop me doing it on Facebook!

So, I sat down for 5 minutes, and thought "What would I want to read about?" Funny stories of others miss fortunes and adventures? Definitely! Tales of destruction and mayhem? Totally! Real life stupid stories of getting yourself in trouble while on a bender from someone who's cleaned their life up and is now on the straight and narrow...maybe!

So maybe I could write about how to clean up yourself when your life goes to shit from too much partying. Who better to talk about it than someone who has actually done it. I know when I first gave up drinking, I sure as shit wasn't going to take advice from a tea totaling counselor who had never drank in their life! And when I did clean myself up, I wasn't willing to give up my social life either. I live and breath for local music, and in the music scene if you don't drink or do drugs, then your an outcast. In fact in most social circles this is true. When I first gave up, I heard a lot of "You mean just for a while?" Ahhh.. no, forever... "Really? Like you'll never drink again? How does that work?".... Easy, I have a personality and can still talk to people sober! And although in the last 15 years I had rarely been in a sober social situation... it couldn't be that hard right? Wrong!

It's amazing how many times over the last few years of doing the single hardest thing I've ever done, that I heard the words "Your not drinking? Your weak!" Weak? Really? Cos its hard to give in to social pressure and just have a beer right? Only weak people don't follow the crowd. Does that sound backwards to anyone else?

I'd like to make it clear from the get go that I'm not here to preach. I have no problem with other people drinking at all. In fact I enjoyed it (or thought I enjoyed it) for a good 15 years. My problem was that I couldn't survive without it, and I hate being dependent on anyone or anything. I believe in freedom, and people should have the choice to do what they want. I'm quite happy sitting around with mates while they have a few cold drinks while I have a mineral water. I don't have a problem with this. I had a problem with the fact that I couldn't do this a couple of years ago. I could never NOT drink. Ever.

When you wake up with a hangover on a Wednesday and realise it wasn't because of a 'special occasion' it's just because it was Tuesday the night before and you just had to have a dinner with friends so you could justify having a few drinks, then you realise maybe that's not right.

Before I met my now husband, I was off the rails in a huge way. Then when I met him, I realised I didn't have half the problem he did. I could at least handle my alcohol to a certain extent.. he couldn't. He would be off his head after a couple of beers.. but still continue to drink the whole slab, run around naked, smash glasses on his head for no reason, cry, and then pass out. This was fun the first few times. Until I realised I really loved him, and that I was taming down to look after him. Me? Toning my drinking down, and not getting too drunk because I was worried about someone else? Now I know how everyone else felt about me.

After a few years of this, it became fairly obvious that we couldn't continue this way. Every special occasion would end the same way... him with his pants down, shirt off, passed out on a dance floor, stage, alleyway, wherever he happened to be when the urge to hit the deck took hold of him. Me with the drunken Trashbag cry, blubbering away about how he'd ruined another occasion. I could deal with passing out though, it was the trying to jump out of cars which were going 100k's an hour down freeways that scared the shit out of me. Incidents happened on every drinking occasion. Not some, not a couple, every single one. There was never a social drink when we were around. It was all or nothing. And it ALWAYS ended badly.

Of course because I was the one crying myself to sleep, I assumed it was just my husband who had the problem with drinking. We only fought when we drank. He only did stupid shit when we drank. But everyone thought it was hilarious didn't they? Its completely normal to take your clothes off, run around the house naked, tip a whole bowl of punch on your head, and insist that you need to go out with your mates to drink more, even though we all know you'll be out like a light in 20 minutes tops? And the next day when the apologies come, along with the crying and pleading that he needs to stop (from him not me) what do you do? Forgive him and have another party the next weekend? Of course!

But when your Engagement Party is ruined, other people's weddings, your Hens/Bucks night, family and friends birthdays and everything in between, just because the drinking and mayhem gets taken to the next level every time, and people are saying to you "Are you sure you want to get married?" You still don't stop and think "Maybe we should stop drinking!" Easy solution right? Easier said than done!

But when it get's closer and closer to your own wedding, and your 100% certain that if you don't do something that the biggest day in your life is going to end in tears, you have to do something or run for the hills right? So I did what any normal girl would do... an ultimatum: "If I cry myself to sleep on our wedding night, we're getting annulled the next morning. No if's or but's. I don't care if you drink, but if you get blind and ruin the whole night, I'm done for good. If you can't hold yourself for one day, the most important day of our lives, then how could I ever trust that you can stay sober any other time it counts... like to drive me to hospital to have our first child or something"

It sounds harsh I know. And I'd always said I would never be the type of girl to give an ultimatum to her partner. But Bridezilla had other idea's. I also knew that our wedding was a new beginning, and I wasn't going to spend my life this way. I'd vowed to myself that I wasn't going to drink much. I'd lead by example. But in the back of my mind not only was I scared shitless that I couldn't hold up my end of the bargain, but that he couldn't either. And I wasn't scared that I'd have to walk away, I was scared because I knew I couldn't, and then that would be it. Alcoholics for life. I wasn't doing that to our future children!

I'll continue this story in my next Blog... otherwise I might run out of things to talk about. Do you think hubby-to-be stayed sober at his own wedding? Tune in (or log in) next time to find out!

I will leave you with this question though. What is your biggest Trashbag moment?
Although you do get some stories each Monday on Facebook from the lightweights that can't hold their grog. They post photos of themselves, making duck faces at the camera with their mascara smeared panda eye's, and accidental reflections in the mirror of the vomit splattered dunny in the background...its just not enough. I want real dirt. Nobody is going to put this stuff on Facebook because their boss might see it. Well, I am my own boss, so I can say what I want without fear of getting the sack.

Until next time..... This is Ex-Trashbag signing off!