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The original Garbage Pail Kid















The 2nd, 3rd and 4th ones were posted a long time ago....sorry for the repeat for those that have already seen them.... :-/

Yep. My town certainly looks similar to all those images  :P

I remember my first hangover....lmao.

I was all of 12, on my way home from my first party I was DWI on my bicycle and ran slap into the rear end of a parked 1962 VW Beetle. Did no damage to the car. Bent my front bike rim all the heck up. Twisted my handle bars every which way from Tuesday and showed me how fast you sober up when you whack your nads on the bar between the seat and the handle bars.

My parents were quite po'ed and my mom made me pay dearly for my first hangover. The next morning she was standing over my bed playing taps on a frigging bugle! I thought my bloody head was going to explode!

LOL.

I can't fully remember my first one. Few years back... New Years. Visiting my mum in London where she had a flat for work purposes. Lovely night out, then some champers and a young (barely) untouched Liver. Lol. I just remember having a bit of a headache. Not a proper hangover, but that can wait until I can afford one at the pub.

My mom wasn't all bad. When I got back from Nam, she was was much more sympathetic..... . She would stand over me with this darn big metal pot and a bloody spoon that looked like a blasted shovel and beat the pot with the spoon.

I told her once she was totally sadistic. She said, "Nope, I just grew up with 3 brothers that were all drunken sailors during WWII. I know how to handle drunks, ya wanna see sadistic?" I decided not to take her up on her offer, she is one tough cookie to this day....lmao

Her oldest brother was one of the toughest SOB's I've ever known and he wouldn't piss her off....lmao.

Yep. My town certainly looks similar to all those images  :P

hmmmf, you can find all of those in my highschool.

[quote][quote]Yep. My town certainly looks similar to all those images

I guzzled a fifth of blackberry brandy when I was 12. Sorry 12 and a half. When I stood up I went straight down to mother earth. My buddies dragged me all the way home. Next thing I remember was my 6 foot, 3 inch, 365 pound dad telling me to get up its time to go to school. I spent the whole day wandering from garbage can to garbage can to barf. I've never drank brandy since.

As my Army buddies would always tell me when we went out drinking years after the war. Your not a true drunk until you've paid homage to the porcelain god. Some of those meat heads were probably high priests....lmao.

Good darn thing I quit drinking way back when. I became the official unit designated driver....yea right....more like the official drunk chauffeur..... ......that got old real darn fast....yep, delivering home four zombies every Friday and Saturday night....

First true...somebody please shoot me...hangover lasted a whole day and ended sometime during a 14 hour flight that night.

Sad part is, must have been the heat that did it...I didn't have much the night before at the bar...I've drank myself silly a couple times back in high school and never had so much as a headache :-/

Precious Moments reminds me of my sisters massive collection of those things, these would have made it more interesting

First true...somebody please shoot me...hangover lasted a whole day

Been there. And operated heavy machinery in the process. Probably a dumb move, in hindsight.

Can't rightly recall if it was the first hangover, but it was certainly one of the earliest - and worst.
My first major exercise as an Infantryman was in Wainwright Alberta in '87. We were on down-time (off duty) in bivouac for a couple of days so we decided to raise the nonexistant roof. We got into town (don't ask how...heh heh) and purchased some...supplies... for the upcoming five month deployment.

It lasted one night.

Whoa, that was a bender and a half. I don't remember doing ATC (Advance to Contact) drills from the top of a tank, but that's what they said I was doing and the damage to my face and forearms seemed to bear that out. I know four of us didn't try to steal a jeep and drive down the road to beat up the visiting Royal Marines, no matter what our Sergeant yelled at us the next day. And I have NO idea who hurled into the back of said jeep, but it wasn't me...really!

The next morning...imagine Keith Richards dragged through a landfill by his ankles. Well; that's what I felt like.

The WORST part though was next morning we learned the schedule had been changed again. We were on the range. The live-fire range.

Doing Carl Gustav qualifications.

Any idea how many soldiers just wanted to get up and stick their face into the backblast of that thing and just get it over with?

That last one would work well in the High Street where I live

omg i must have the one with my name on it lol  8-)