I was at a house party on the weekend. In Sydney. I know, I’ll stop bragging now. You already think I’m cool. (There were cheese platters!)
The conversation turned to the first time you were ever drunk. Everyone recalled tales of being 15 or 16, stealing mum’s alcohol and skulling too much wine and then vomiting.
The first time I was drunk was at my 18th birthday party. cricket, cricket
I don’t know why it took me so long to bow to peer pressure. Well, actually not even peer pressure. I bowed to the fact that I was 18 and it was now legally sound to steal mum’s alcohol and vomit. I blame my lack of underage drinking on Oprah and self help tapes, to be honest. My Dad was obsessed with both of these things. So by the age of about 9, I could articulately and rationally explain why underage binge drinking could lead to disastrous consquences. (Read: pregnancy, murder and aids).
No, I didn’t have a boyfriend in high school, why do you ask?
So, now, I’ve done the whole go out every Friday/Saturday AND stolen Mum’s rum. But I’ve still got a bit of that Oprah, “What about the consequences?” voice in my head.
At the aforementioned house party, we decided to walk up to the local bottle shop to get more drinks. One of the guys with us carried his beer with him in PUBLIC and then continued to drink in the store and then walked out. No one said anything. Talk about rock and roll!!
I was just happy it was a Liquor Land so I could use my Fly Buys card.