Last year in Halls, it was about a month or two in and our flat went out. All night I was saying I wouldn't be getting drunk because my Mum and Aunty were visiting the next day. The club we were in had offers of Double Vodka and Red Bull for £1, so I had about 8, and was so drunk it was unreal. I can't remember getting out of the club, the taxi ride home, getting up the stairs into halls. My memory comes back to me in bits when I get into the kitchen; I sat on my housemates knee, and drank from a can of beer (I hate beer), which had disguarded cigarette ash in, and downed about half a bottle of neat Vodka. I remember going into my flatmates room and lying on his bed telling him to come to bed, and being kicked back to my room when I said I felt sick. My other flatmate got me undressed and into bed and left me with a glass of water. I woke up the next to find myself in different underwear to what I had on the night before (Nothing happened because my room was locked from the inside), I had thrown up on my carpet, and had an England flagged drapped over me.
When I got into the kitchen the next day, my housemates told me that we got a taxi home from the club, and my flatmate had to carry me up three flights of stairs to our flat because I couldn't walk. He'd dropped me a few times so I was covered in scratches.
I met my Mum and Aunty about half an hour late from the train station, and couldn't eat for the rest of the day, and proceeded to throw up about four times.
I havn't had a Vokda and Red Bull since, and have never been that drunk again!