No, this is not about basil. I am in mourning for my basil.

It's been a while since Ive done one of these, and I was chatting with Alex on the phone the other night and told her this story. She said I should post it. I think it'll make a great life lessons post.

When I was in later high school, I was rather popular. This was a complete surprise to me when I discovered b.c I didn't actually care about such things. My life revolved around punk rock music, parties, gigs, Fear and Loathing practise, etc. As it still does, sadly. Not a lot has changed in 15 years.

Anyway, my boyfriend at the time and I went to a party that a school friend threw. We'd graduated high school by then, and everyone was letting down their hair so to speak. I showed up and everyone was like "All right, Star's here, she can mix us funky drinks."

So we all got merrily drunk. Then four guys and I decided we needed to be more drunk. So - because I am clever - I had the Cunning Plan.

I mixed the five of us Bundaberg Rum with milk, followed by a beer chaser.

We were all so, so ill.

I don't have much recollection of things after that, but I do vaguley recall my bf pulling me out of the fish pond where I'd passed out face down. I'd thrown up in the pond. I killed the fish. Yes, my vomit was so toxic that I killed an entire pond full of fish.

Another guy threw up in the lounge room and burnt a hole through the carpet and the lining. Another guy passed out in the middle of the road. We all had to be taken to hospital to get our stomach's pumped.

Since that fateful night, some 12 years ago, I cannot touch rum of any kind. The mere thought makes me shudder. And to the best of my knowledge, none of the other guys who drank it can touch it either.

Lesson: never, ever, no matter how desperate you are, mix milk and rum and follow it up with ale. *shudder*

Questions? Comments? Wanna stroke my ego? Then e-mail me.