another one
I was about 15 and had been walking around town with a mate. I had had a marshmallow brownie from a popular local bakery (no names mentioned) and about halfway home I started to get hot and cold sweats. I managed to hold it in until I got home, then ran upstairs and barfed into the sink. Unfortunately it wasn't quite as digested as one might wish, so after I had gone for a lie down, my mum came down and said to my mate "I saved the big bits for you".

Oh and I once puked 8 feet after playing Doom for 6 hours without a rest in 1997.
(Dinsdale v Spiny Norman, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 22:12, Reply)

Not my worst chunder but my mate's
17 and stupid. Blatted on several bottles of cheap cider I decided to have a nice cool lay down in the garden of my friend's house where we were having the party. Cue "friend" dragging me back indoors to be sobered up with copious amounts of black coffee. I did not want this! I wanted to be left lying on the lovely cool grass outside.
Minutes later I make a mad dash to the loo and hang my head in the bowl whilst puking the entire contents of my gut.
At this point I hear someone coming up the stairs. (thump thump thump puke) and (thump thump thump puke) The door bursts open and my mate Henk is standing over me. He looks at me and I look at him. There is no way I can move due to my condition. I pray he will turn to his right and evacuate into the bath.
Nope - puked all over me while I lay there helpless. Someday I will kill him.
( Slippery Jim Seeking a psychotic lady for fun & sex & crime., Thu 19 Aug 2004, 22:08, Reply)

well
I was about 7 or 8 and was feeling a bit under the weather and was in a class music lesson, which more or less entailed singing in 3 rows. I said I felt a bit sick, and the teacher said that should this threat to be brought into action then I was to use the toilet which was just off the hall. Well of course, I knew better. When I felt ill, I kept it in. Until about the third chorus of one song when it wouldn't stay in any longer and hit the girl in front of me. I want to say on the record Charlotte King: I am sorry for chundering in your hair.
(Dinsdale v Spiny Norman, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 22:06, Reply)

Kitchen/Vomit Interface Incident
Returning to a friend's house after a night out drinking I was drunk, very drunk, something like 30+ units drunk I found out later thanks to my work colleagues buying me straight triple vodkas instead of vodka and lemonade once I'd got too drunk to notice.

So there I was, slumped down on the kitchen floor within spitting distance of the bathroom, but with no hope in hell of getting there in the state I was in. Feeling an urgent need chunder, the nearest thing available was a rather large dog food bowl which I promptly filled to the brim.

What happened next I blame fully on my friend, who insisted that *I* take the bowl to the toilet to empty it, not withstanding the fact that standing was a pratical impossibility. Given those circumstances I quickly went down, the dog food bowl full of vomit when flying and the kitchen received an impromptu redecoration with spicy carrot chunks.
(Dr Wadd, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:58, Reply)

A word of the wise
Tizer: its a red thing. Gives you red sick as well, when consumed on a bad stomach. Needless to say, i didnt have the will to make it to the kitchen sink, so i just threw up the red stuff twice on the living room carpet, and managed to leave a remote control car nearby rather unusable

EDIT: Just remembered another good'un. I got a bit tired of swimming lengths of the pool one PE lesson, and been as i was tired and not feeling so good i sat at the side for a while. Then I got the fait feeling you get before it happens, but wasnt thinking fast enough. Threw up right into the pool in the middle of a busy swimming lesson. Well i was pleased with myself..
(Pigmash, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:56, Reply)

How I almost puked on the Bishop of Ely before knocking myself out in a roomful of vomit
Ok, since you asked...

I sing for my College Choir, and on important College feast-days we have to sing grace before dinner can start. When we've done this we go to a small room above the main hall and get served the same meal that the Fellows/Honoured guests are eating down below, complete with unlimited quantities of port/wine.

I'd had a difficult couple of weeks what with personal issues etc and felt the need to get completely bladdered- which I immediately proceeded to do. By the end of the meal I was in no fit state for anything and had to be dragged down the stairs by a couple of friends- when we were suddenly confronted by the Bishop of Ely, who wanted to thank us for our performance earlier that evening.

After several appallingly embarassing seconds of trying to compose sentences that sounded even remotely sober I felt my stomach begin to lurch, and I somehow regained enough muscle control to barge past him and dash for my room (my friends later told me that the bishop shook his head sadly before making a quick exit). My next memory was waking up lying on the floor in my corridor's bathroom, every concievable surface of which was covered in the remains of a six-course meal that included trout, guinea fowl and about 3 bottles of port (trust me, not a good combination).

Judging from the bruise on my forehead I'd obviously slipped in my own vomit and smacked my skull on the sink. I woke up the next morning in my vomit-soaked dinner suit, realised what had happened and as I went outside to survey the damage I met my next-door neighbour coming leaving his room in a similar state. He'd also come home wankered, and as the bathroom was occupied by me ended up giving our kitchen the same treatment. The combined stench was so bad that when my other neighbour left her room she immediately puked up all over our corridor.

As I retreated back to my room after a morning of cleaning up I discovered that sometime in the night I'd also managed to puke in my sock. Nice.

Bit of an essay there, sorry.
( Shrub Rocketeer is a twisted emotional husk, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:54, Reply)

3 spring to mind.
the first was wheni was about 13.
my 17 year old brother had managed to wangle having a new years eve party. by about 11 pm i had had enough of his gobby fuckwit mates from cadets and the TA. so being a rescourceful chappie i swiped a litre of JD and absconded to my bedroom. GREAT IDEA!!

theni necked it all in about 20 mins.
NOT SUCH A GREAT IDEA!!

the next thing i know. i wake up at 8 am ina room full of dried puke. it was every where. and about 3 inches thick at that. i cleaned it up as best i could with out my brother twigging what had happened, (since he would be pissed i nicked his JD)altho to do this i had to scrape heavy furniture over my carpet to get teh worst of the crust off.

the next one fast forward to me at about 15 or so. i was drinking in a pub called the favourite near hornsey. and had been hitting it pretty hard while laughing my arse off at my friends complete inability to pull this fine looking irish lass with a incredibly low cut top.. by about 1030 i was starting to feel a bit the worse for wear and decided to look for my buddy to tell him i was off home for the night.i finally find him outside with this irish bird trying to stick his tongue down her throat. so i stumble up to him and tap him on the shoulder...

"hey mark" (for twas his name) "i think im gonna head home for the night maURRRGFGGHHHHHBLURRRGHG!"

unfortunatly for the irish lass as i had tapped him on the shoulder, mark had sidestepped and turned round to see what i wanted. leaving the irish birds spectacular decollettage to bear the force of my efforts, full on, the low cut top acted like a funnel.

the last one was only about 18 months ago (at 25 i really should have known better by then... *tuts*) having helped host a party for 200 people in camberwell i was helping the derig and decided that since i was sleepy another pill was well in order. bosh. down it goes. unfortunatly i had over estimated how long the de rig would take to finish and then i found my self in teh nasty position of coming up on this pill in the backl of a cab doing about 80 miles an hour over speed ramps. after literally choking down this throat load of vom about 3 times i decided enough was enough and hurriedly tried to open the window.

as i turned my head to do look for the handle WHOOOOSH!! out it came. all over the back seat head rest door arch window and ceiling of this cab. my mate was incredibly lucky that the headrest on the chair in front was solid or it would have really messsed with his hair !

i apologise for neither length nor breadth.
( Azra3l Lubrication Persuasion and Brute Force ™, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:54, Reply)

I remembered another!
I was 14 years old at the time and decided it would be a good idea to down 1/2 bottle of vodka, 4 Bud and a bottle of wine. Sounds bad but gets worse. I vom'd 3 large bowls full of green goo (no idea where the green came from) staggered home, throwing up every ten steps of so and decided that my mother wouldn't realise I had been drinking if I had minty breath. Cue stealing a half used polo-mint from a random girl to disguise the smell. night ended when I couldn't get the key in the lock before realising my mum had opened the door and was staring in disbelief at her 14 y/o son, pissed as a fart with no sense of reality. Up all night on the ceramic telephone and grounded for a month.

Fin

Apologise for length
( diablo290582 Professional.....something., Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:53, Reply)

how about
a whole Mcdonalds french fry out of my nose...
(zeflar, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:50, Reply)

In the summertime
My mate Richard got very pissed at a party and I took him outside for some fresh air. Whilst he was lying on a sun-lounger, a light came on in the adjoining house, followed by the sound of a door opening and the unmistakable sound of a yappy dog being let out. After thirty seconds of annoying yapping, it finally burst through the hedge and came yapping up the garden towards us. Just as the little bleeder got level with us, Richard spilled his guts, showering the dog in red-wine fondue. Yaps turned to yelps and the dog turned and ran for it. Cue, light coming on, sound of door opening and a bloke shouting "WHAT THE FUCK...!!".

Oh joy!
( Linbox has a serious dunk habit, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:44, Reply)

Vodka...
....red Bull...decided it would be a good idea to get married on the bells at new year. Puked a lot. I still dry vomit when I smell vodka to this day
note. It was August and we had only been going out for 4 months at that point! 8 months from start to erm..finish.

Never again....

Still 3 years later i'm still happily married.

Another one: 3/4 litre vodka, 20 minutes. What did I choose as a mixer? Undiluted watermelon squash thats what! Violently sick for 6 days. Magic!
There probably are more but I cant remember...
( diablo290582 Professional.....something., Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:38, Reply)

carpet pizza
The two stories of worst vom ever

My version.

Get home at a reasonable hour.. a bit worse for wear and as i was still underage I managed to hide it from the folks with a bit of light banter at the doorstep.Glass of water and up the stairs and into bed.

my brothers version

Deranged elder brother wakes up entire house at 2 in the morning by falling over bins and then leaning on bell untill someone lets him in.
Brother then proceeds to hang from the front door whilst gently swearing at collected family members. Takes a swift run up and tries to navigate the stairs which he nearly does. But manages to miss about the third step from the top and falls heavily onto his belly causing a water cannon pressure stream of vomit to cover nearly every inch of landing carpet and lower walls but not so much as a drop on the lino floor of the bathroom. Brother helped to bed by overly understanding dad.

Ohh to be 16 again
(gentleben, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:33, Reply)

18th Birthday Games
I remember vividly my 18th Birthday.
I was at college at the time in Sunderland, with all my Mackem indie-mates (some of whom have gone on to musically great things), and I was looking forward to be able to stroll over to the bar, and act all indignant if ever asked for ID, instead of sheepish mumblings that I left it at home. I eventually invited around 15 guys and gals to the pub with me after tea. We intended to start off in the local Wetherspoons then move on to Manor Quay (a top student club btw...). This plan, however, was abandoned when the effect of having everybody out with me insisting on buying me a drink. I had a veritable cornucopia of drinks, covering almost the entire table before me. Plus the fact that my drinking nut friend (we all have them, a mate who's heroic drinking takes them to local legend status...) had challenged me that afternoon to match him drink-for-drink.

By around 10 pm I was in my woozy dribbly stage, and could feel the need to vom rising in my gut. Intending to do as I would normally do, make myself chug in the cubicle, getting it over with discreetly in the pan, I callously invited my male friends to spectate as I hurled in the bathroom. So, followed by 5 mates, I got halfway to the gents when I could take it no longer, and promptly vomited on a lady's shoes. I only registered the yells of "you dirty cunt!" whilst I staggered to the gens to complete my mission.

I made it to the gents in time to barge into the nearest cubicle and sink to my knees barfing copiously into the bog. After the spectacle, I made to get up, but found that my legs had mutinied, and wouldn't respond! So I had to ask said friends to haul me up, and to the sinks to clean up.

Me and a friend left immediately, catching a bus home, on which I barfed again on the back seat.

He had to support me off the bus, to my door, and turn my key for me - as I could barelty function at this point.

When indoors I barfed again a couple of times, the fell into a coma, awakening with a bastard hangover, which I assuaged with hot showers and lots of Mogwai.

It remains a talking point to this day whenever me and my makem mates are reunited.
( Quiver Search for FATALISTS on Spotify, Amazon, Apple, &c, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:32, Reply)

waking
to find seaguls feasting on the remnants of a regurgetated onion-bhaji I'd spent the last of my shrapnel on sticks in my mind a bit.
(Papagato RackSpanner, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:30, Reply)

Once, during a night on the piss
for a dare I covered myself in feathers and promtly ate three pounds of unhulled millet, four packets of sunflower seeds and a whole cuttlefish bone. Later I was sick as a parrot.
( Cromagnon Don't waste my motherfucking time!, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:27, Reply)

haha not me but..
well, it wasnt me, but me and a few friends had been drinking and there was this one guy who was notorious for being a lightweight and drinking too fast anyway.
by the time the rest of us were merry enough, he had passed out on his bed. a pool of sick at the bottom of his bed, dribbling along the side..
this isnt the main thing of this story though, as we decided to take flourescent highlighters and pens to him and draw all over his body :D

as seen here


www.etimo.net/pic/owned.jpg
( the_man361 bffwaarghhl, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:27, Reply)

Ah.... Happy days indeed.
Some of you may remember the 'Gatzby' nightclub outside of Reading Train station (it's now one of those horrible 'Oz Bars'). Anyway, this was back in my student days, when a couple of pints of strong lager and a few vodkas would be enough for me.

It was my 18th birthday on the evening in question, so the booze was flowing more freely than blood at a Barrymore Pool Party.

It got to about midnight, and realising I needed to chunder, I drunkenly staggered off to the Kazis. En route, I bumped into and fell over a young ladys chair. I knocked her clean out and promptly threw up over her jacket on the back of the chair.

Quickly realising I need to boff again, and with only the crazed determination that posesses the truly drunk, I bravely staggered on to the toilets. Once in there, there was an elderly chap throwing up in to the urinals. Not to be outdone, I joined the one next to him. We decided (unspokenly) that he had won when his false teeth fell out.

It felt like hours had passed, but was probably only minutes before I was escorted outside by bouncers. As we all know, projectile vomiting is hungry work, so I purchased a rancid hotdog from the health risk parked outside the club.

Within seconds the bacteria I'd just ingested needed to make good their escape. Without wishing to publicly embabrass myself, I leant over the nearest wall. The wall was more of a bridge over an entrance to carpark, and parked 30ft below was a nice new shiny Rover 800 (the height of style in those days!).

I had no qualms in letting go of another bucket of sick over the wall, and I'm pleased to report that it was bullseye on the Rover's windscreen / bonnet.

If that was your Rover, then I can only apologise, but in fairness I'm sure a bucket of my stomach soup is now probably worth far more.
( Benny on the Loose; a permanent solution to a temporary problem, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:26, Reply)

At the Easter Ball in my first year at Uni ...
I had been eating and drinking most of the day (mostly cider, to my shame) and had then gone out to the Students Union. I carried on 'til kicking out time but had just enough time for a night cap. Now, I like Drambuie so I asked for a shot. The barman says they're out of Drambuie, but would I like some Southern Comfort instead. I *hate* Southern Comfort, but was so drunk that I accepted anyway. From that point on things got hazy.

I remember dropping the glass (half empty) on the floor and beginning to realise how bad an idea Southern Comfort had been.

I remember being dragged home (I only lived about a minute from the Union).

Then I remember throwing up in my sink ... a sink full of my washing up. I also had long hair which was getting dragged around in the vomit in the sink.

I also remember throwing up in a bucket (which I half filled) and in the toilet (which I managed to block).
In the night I woke up and feeling some sense of responsibility, managed to open the loo door (it had been locked to stop people trying to use it) and clean it all out.

I then went back to bed.

In the morning however (I must have still been drunk) I actually went to my 9:00am lecture (maths). I don't remember much about it, but apparently I sat there smelling of vomit for an hour. Then I went home to find that my entire corridor had been forced to leave their rooms and the cleaner had refused to open my door.

You see the bucket I had half filled with sick had been sat in the bright morning sun for all the time I was in my lecture and had (for want of a better word) cooked.

Needless to say I was the one who had to venture in to get it and tip it down the loo (the one I'd cleaned so well) which I promptly blocked.
( Hagbard ... it's been a long time., Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:25, Reply)

Not me, but like Max Boyce, "I was there"
Playing "Pirates" in school PE was a special treat. Nobody had to die for at least a month before we were allowed Pirates. All the gym equipment came out, and it would stay out for a whole week, such was its popularlity. Best not played straight after lunch break, mind.

Andy Collins climbed a rope, all the way to the ceiling of the gymnasium - some twenty feet up - and by looping the rope around his leg managed to stay there. It took more effort that it looked, because he soon sweating like Alex Ferguson in front of an FA committee and looking decidedly peaky.

We hated Andy, the bastard, the king of the double portion in the dinner hall. The shape of a cigarette, he could eat anything and not put on an ounce of weight. God knows where it went, but today it wasn't going to stay there.

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARCH!!!!!!" he said.

Double sausage, beans and chips followed by sponge pudding and pink custard rained down onto the panicked ranks of pirates below, who slipped, fell and crashed into each other like the Keystone Cops Mud Wrestling Spectacular that never quite made it to cinema screens. Puke. Diced carrots. Green goo. And as heads collided in blind panic, blood, blood, endless blood!

Mr Prince freaked. His brand new PE mats looked like an entry for the Turner Prize, and would probably have won if entered as an allegory on human frailty. His best vaulting box would have to be burnt, and three basketballs were subsequently deemed a danger to human health and formed part of a government dossier on chemical weapons.

The vomit and blood-soaked hoardes huddled together in the corner of the gym, swearing death on the miscreant Collins.

"Sorry," he said.

Oh, that's alright then.

We never played Pirates again.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:25, Reply)

This is the reason
why I'm banned from every Riley's Snooker/Pool place in the UK.

A few months ago, it was a friend of mine's birthday, and i got utterly shitfaced on vodka before going out for a game of pool.

Upon entering the Rileys all i did was flash my membership card and they let me in, no bouncers or anything to see that i really was very drunk.

I played a first game of pool (i cant remember who won or whatever... only i carried on drinking) and eventually i was staggering. I fell into someone elses pool table and was abruptly sick all over it.

Wiping the vom from my mouth, as the two people using the table got slightly angry i had been sick on their table, caused quite a stir, one of the blokes decided to hit me, which was a foolish mistake and i was then sick on him rather violently,

By now some of the staff had come out to stop the commotion, one of them sat me down and gave me a drink of water. I had another technecolour yawn into the glass, and it kind of arched out in a fan spraying everything in a radius, including the staff member who was trying to help me

Rather angry, he demanded my Membership card, which i fumbled around for and produced, he put the details into the computer (while i was sitting in a perpetual puddle of my own sick) and told me i had a lifetime ban on me and ripped up my membership card.

My mates, of course, found this hugely hilarious as i staggered out into the street (and was only slightly sick again on the stairs down to the street - there wasnt much stuff left in me) however i thought it best if i attempted to go home.

My only thanking - I didnt throw up in the taxi.
(ClockworkDespot, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:24, Reply)

I went to a party after a dinner.
At the dinner, I didn't like potatoes, but decided to swallow them whole.

I went back to my friends grans house for a house-party(She was on holiday). Being very tired, I decided to go to bed.

This is the result:



I puked whole potatoes.


I woke up staring at the Pope! It scared the shite out of me. Needless to say, I let the bastard host by a new mattress :)
( karatesausage, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:23, Reply)

The floor show
After a heavy night drinking, the wife and I dragged ourselves home and crashed out into bed. About 3 in the morning, she shook me awake, and it was quite obvious she was having an asthma attack. A bad one. I called the ambulance, opened the front door and switched the lights on so that they would see the house OK. I went back to the bedroom, and was sitting next to her trying to calm her, when I started to feel sick. It started to come up, and just made it to the toilet in time. After a few minutes of hard vomiting, I looked up to see one of two ambulancewomen looking at me indisgust. I waved my arm in the direction of the bedroom, and went back to vomiting.

Fortunately, the wife is fine.

Then there was the time that I was ill at work and was taken for a lie down in the security office. I woke up after a few hours, felt very dizzy then ran to their kitchen, vomited all over their sink, and disappeared back into the office I had been sleeping in.

Then there was the freshers week many moons ago. Comedy night at Chambers House, drinking cider and baileys (why?) all night, then over to pleasance bar to finish off. Me and my mates downed a pint of lager each, and a couple of girls were so impressed, we offered to do it again, and did. The last drop had just entered my mouth, when I felt the nights consumption coming back out, and managed to put my hand over my mouth to hold it in. Almost. My hand held the solid bits in, but the liquid, now under pressure, sprayed from my face like a fountain, a very large one at that. I was escorted from the bar, still puking, with the bouncers trying to avoid the spray, and deposited on the floor outside. With a large lump of solid compressed vomit in my hand.
( LuftWaffle, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:22, Reply)

oooohhhh
rice is bad to re-gurgitate. But I think my most memorable vom was when I was very ill in bed (with hallucinations & all that lovely stuff)& dreamed I was being sick on my pillow. When I finally awoke, said pillow was stuck to my hair for some reason....
( Hidden Mouse, Sleeping Kitten Gromada? Gromada!, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:21, Reply)

my worst vomit was
the wonderful pile of newcastle brown and kebab that I had to clean up from my bedroom floor first thing on my eighteenth birthday. still, it was a good night the night before :)
( MrSanity has maybe kicked the WoW habit forever, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:19, Reply)

suffering badly and
trying to hold it back, i stumbled blindly upstairs into the bathroom. just as i was about to hurl, what should happen but the door rebounded off the towel rail and hit me full in the face.
i managed to redecorate the back of the door, my face, body, arms, legs, much of the carpet and even some of the ceiling.
my mother was not best pleased.
( HexShaped remembers when this was all fields, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:16, Reply)

My first good drunk
I came home to find my mother at the bottom the stairs. I'm trying to hide it, but she knows.. almost laughing about it. I recall her asking me about it, sort of, and my vehemtly denying it.

Anyway, long story short, I get up to go use the bathroom and as I did I threw up.. through my fingers and all over her and the carpet.

God 17 was fun.
( Scoopzilla http://www.slapwatch.com now get to fuck, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:14, Reply)

my friend and i decided to go on a binge of nauseating ride-riding at the local county fair
there also happened to be a girl about whom i was trying to... whatever you do to hot girls you see at the fair.

anyway, it turns out she was right in front of me on a particularly nauseating ride.

of course, we all know what was going to happen. it happened to occur at a temporary moment of suspended weightlessness, and so, thinking quickly, as my vomit hung in front of my face, i reached out and caught as much of it as i could in my hand. man, it was fun. i managed to save the rest and blast it out over the side of the ride, away from any bystanders.
(schnurricane, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:13, Reply)

Ever spewed
a chicken Phal through your nose after a night on the piss??? well don't. TRUST ME!
( GeordieSteve, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:10, Reply)