i was in
Berlin on a school trip years ago, and the 24 hours on the coach + subsequent dehydration had made me a bit ill. We couldn't get into the hotel until 2pm, so we had to wander about in the heat for 6 hours. I developed a fucker of a headache, and didn't feel right. We got to burger king, i ordered food, it arrived and i felt the vom-panic. I rushed up the stairs to the bog, only to be confronted by a old woman waving a dish for money, in exchange for toileting. Panicking, I handed her some change, rushed into the cubicle and.. false alarm. This happened twice, and each time i'd paid. the final trip, I paid, and vomited, all over de place. barely any sick made its way onto the strange poo-shelf german toilets have. I felt fine afterwards.

Good value for money I thought, 10 or 15 pence to redecorate the place as best I could.
(roboglitch, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 16:54, Reply)

My Worst Vomit
When I was about 15 or 16, my friend Jack and I started experimenting with that devil's drug marijuana. One particularly mashed day we went back to his house to continue our smoking activities. After several hours I was lying on Jack's bed completely unable to move. However, all was not well, so I managed to somehow rise up and slump down by the door.

"Are you alright?" said Jack
"Unh" I replied. This made Jack laugh. A lot.

I then managed to stagger tothe toilet so I could drive the porcelain bus, but as a knelt down, I saw that my good friend was standing in the doorway looking over me, so, as not to seem like a poor guest, I commentated on what was happening.

The first blast came. "Ugh, it's steak!" I exclaimed, having had it for dinner. Jack laughed and I felt a little worse for wear. However, there was more;
"Ugh" I exclaimed, as I saw sesame seeds. It then occurred to me that I was throwing up all of todays meals in order,"burger!" At this point 'the giggles' were fully upon Jack, and I felt shit, having just vomited all liquids up from my stomach. But there was one more;
"B-b-beans" I delivered with all the eloquence of a tramp as all my baked beans emerged, with the same consistency and taste as they had entered. Jack could now no longer breathe because of laughing.

There was also the time when I drank lots of vodka and sicked up the lining of my stomach, but that's the entirety of it really. All black it was.
(scoob666 Ain't Nuthin' Ta F' Wit, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 16:27, Reply)

It's wasn't mine but it did ammuse me ....
we were sat in our local and one of the old men who is often in there was sat reading his paper and suddenly coughed and started vomiting all over the floor, when he got back from the toilet the bar man had put a bucket and mop there, but as he proceded to start mopping he began reeching and for about 15 mins he was mopping up then throwing up again, eventually he gave up and got a taxi home... . ..
( Munky Boy today I am back., Mon 23 Aug 2004, 16:24, Reply)

once upon a time
me and a bunch of mates decided to to tequila slammers, only we had no lemon so we used red peppers.
we also had no tequila so we used poitin (ITS MADE FROM POTATOES FOR CHRISTS SAKE), when we got to about five, we were all feeling a little iffy and aidan looked a bit uncertain about trying a sixth but he went ahead anyway and spewed it right back, the vom flying clear across the table. We sent the video into you've been framed but they didn't reply.
aidan then went off to the pub while I spent the rest of the night chucking in the bathroom, bastard
( VampireMonkeyOnSpeed a super sexy sexual sex terrorist sex, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 16:16, Reply)

Ooh, I've got one for this.
About 8 years ago, I had a mate called Matt. He was a bit of a booze legend if truth be told. Anyway, one night down the local, we were getting ready to head into town, and Matt had a full pint to finish off. He downed it in one, and then almost immediately vommed it back into his glass. Almost exactly a pint of slightly cloudy lager-vom.

Anyway, as we were leaving to get on the bus, he collared a passing student and offered to sell them his pint for £1. The student was delighted at this offer of cheap booze, and as we pulled away on the bus took a mighty draught from his new acquisition.

Ewwwwwwwww....
( supermoore: HUNG, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 15:57, Reply)

I'd been drinking most of the day
Carlsberg Export - top lager, but was getting bored of the taste, so I started drinking Bacardi Breezers cos they had a nice flavour and were on cheap (£1.85 per bottle). I get wasted on them and didn't make it the teh loo at home, hence rainbow coloured projectile vomiting all over the landing. Mother found me passed out with a sponge in my hand trying to clean it up. Bless her.
( mcdoof fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 15:56, Reply)

At Leeds Festival...
... I think three years ago, Myself and fellow campers were drinking heavily. Being the last night of the festival, it's traditional to have a mad one. As the night progressed, and after drinking some cocktail that mainly consited of white wine, Archers and Bailey's, my stomach didn't feel to cracky, so I leaped in between two tents and began evacuating the contents of my belly.

I awoke sometime later that night, remaining on all fours, with my hands submerged in congealed Bailey's... I let rip once again.

I then returned to my friends, wrapped my head with toilet paper and insisted I was the tenth member of Slipknot. After which I nearly caught my head on fire by straying too close to the camp fire.
(bunny_333, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 14:55, Reply)

Never try to outdrink your dad...
One night when I still lived at home, my dad decided to take me to the local pub. Now this was a proper country pub, that served lots of real ale.
We proceeded to spend the next four hours drinking pint after pint. It got to closing time and I vaguely remember getting in a taxi and going to a nightclub. That's my memory for the night gone.
Next morning I get woken up by my dad banging on my bedroom door saying "wake up I need to check your plugs"
"eh?" I uttered.
"I need to check your plugs, something keeps blowing the fuses, it's gone three times so far"
It was at that point it dawned on me, I was feeling a bit warm and damp.
I looked downwards and realised that I must have been sick in my bed at somepoint in the night and had managed to also get a large quantity on the plug socket.
Needless to say I had to make an excuse why it couldn't have been anything to do with me and that he didn't need to check my plugs.
My parents never did find out.
(Disco_rhino, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 14:31, Reply)

Bitten by Snakes....
...ahh snakebite and black, what evils are commmited in thy name.

This particular night myself and my chum Dan had met up with another pal, Joe who worked shifts.
This particular night Joe had been on the late shift and couldn't be arsed driving into town to get cash out so decided to sign at cheque at the start of the night 'in case I can't write by closing time' and asked Mo, the landlady to keep a tally every time he bought a round.

Naturally me and Dan abused this system to the full.
Every time Joe went to the bog we went up the bar with the words '2 Snakebite 'n' blacks, Pernod 'n' black(Joe's tipple of choice at the time) and one for you Mo'.

Conseqeuently I was the way of the newt come closing time.

My parents put me to bed in the small hours having come in and found me sat in the dog's basket. Giggling and trying to eat the dog's chew.

Anyway sometime in the night I vommed.

Never EVER throw up snakebite 'n' black.

It will make your bed look like an explosion in a beetroot bottling plant and make you think you're blleding to death in the morning.
( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 14:21, Reply)

Not exactly my worst...
I hardly ever throw up, quite often I wish that I would! But when I was very young I downed a bottle of merrydown and then promptly threw up everywhere in my mates garden. I felt quite alot better after that and then carried on the night.

A couple of months later I was round me mates again and he told me I had thrown up on one of his Dads cabbages. I laughed and asked if his Dad was pissed at me. But quite the opposite, the two cabbages that were in the area I had thrown up on were massively bigger than all the others!A good 50% bigger.

I felt quite proud.
(itsalloneword, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 14:16, Reply)

Chunder ~Mountain.
Ahhhh.....the last time I drank vodka...

And NO spologies for length.

I'd been sniffing around a young lass I with for ages and she'd finally put me out of my misery by telling me to 'go fuck yourself, my boyfriend's on leave from the Paras this weekedn and you've got 5 minutes to disappear or I'm telling him who you are and what you've just been saying to me', it was friday night so I thought 'stuff it, I'll do what any sensible person feeling fucked by love(or the trouser-based equivalent anyway) does and get drunk.'

Off I headed to my local boozer, having first consumed a bottle of what can only be described as Spanish Anti-Freeze.
I then proceeded to drink 6 pints of Greene King's then legendary Winter Ale(about 6.5-ish-% ABV CAMRA members and people with beards).

I then started to feel a little bloatted out, so my mate suggested I go onto Vodka and Orange, which I did until 8 or so drinkies later,the landlady threw me out at around 1:30-ish(closing times are things that happen to other people in my local back home in Suffolk)for the crime of having run out of cash.

My mate Phil then says 'Hey, Micks having a party as his dad's away for the weekend'.

So off we wobble up the road.

When we got to this party the only thing left was BLue Nun.
One sip of it and I was on the front lawn puking my RING.
Thr resultant orange mound must have stood proudly six inches tall. The last thing I remember is my dad putting me to bed.

Fast forward to monday.
I bump into Mick in the street.
He gives me a glare and has been banned from holding parties EVER again.
Apparently despite Mick's valiant efforts to destroy the mound by pouring 3 buckets of water it had stood firm.
His dad probably wouldn't have minded the fact that there was an indestructible pile of chunder on his front lawn were it not for the fact that he'd trodden into it on his way in and sank up to his ankle in it.....

I didn't visit Mick at home again until he found his own place to live.
( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 14:15, Reply)

Cider! Lager! Blackcurrant!
. . .add a splash of own brand vodka and you've got the makings of a good night

Me and my chums had a skinful of this refreshing cocktail and headed into town. On the way home we met a group of girls at the bus-stop and decided to have a piggy back race, so I grabbed a girl and off we charged.

I suddenly knew I was in trouble- my sight began to pixellate and my ears started to ring, a situation not helped by running down the street with a girl who kept slipping down my back.In one last attempt to steady her I hitched up her leg, only to find it was in fact a prosthetic one.

This was just too much for my brain and we crashed to the floor, dislodging her leg in the process. The poor girl started crying, at which point I vomited into her lap. Her friends arrived to find her sobbing, covered in sick and missing her leg, and understandably started to beat me up.

So if you're out there Alison, I am so, so sorry. . .
(le renard, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 14:00, Reply)

Vomit + Snoring = Jimi Hendrix
After too much jolly juice went to bed feeling a bit tired. Promptly fell into deep sleep, oblivious to the increasing room rotation speed. When I'm deeply asleep I snore (quite loudly indeed). At one point I must have vomited and snored simultaneously. Immediately wake up with buring choking lung pain having inhaled my own vomit.
Rush to bathroom, leaving a nice trail to help find the way back to bed. Proceed to cough up and chuck up vomit and lung mix thinking so this is what it must have been like to have been gassed in WWI. Very close to joining rock n roll hall of vomit inhalation death fame.
(anat0010, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 13:58, Reply)

I have vomited twice in my life
First time was back when I first started school, must have been no more than twelve or eleven. Sitting in maths class and the night before I had the bestest ever curry dahl and chicken curry.

However day after mate who I was sitting next to let off the most disgusting welsh fog of a fart ever. I dry retched, put my jumper over my nose to filter it out and he thought it was hilariously funny. Next part my hand was over my face because I knew I was going to spew and didn't want to cover my work. A good tip iv'e learnt when spewing is not to put your hand over your mouth. The vom was angled precisely all over mate, with a little splashback upon my face and some on my work. He started to cry, I was whisked off to the toilets when I met my mum, coincidentially she came to ask me how to fix the computer so I was taken home, and spent the day fixing a computer. Yay!

Queue new years ever 2004 in Belgium. My plan was "Stay up and celebrate both new years" as the English one starts at eleven CET time, and the european one an hour after. Being continential relatives I had to endure "delicasies" such as camebert* and roquefort**. I don't know what is the appeal to camebert as it smells like it's been fermented up a dying mans arse but I was forced to eat some, and I washed it down with two glasses of red wine. Then I had some roque fort, normally I like that cheese, but this one I could tell was off (No idea how, at the time I thought roque fort couldn't go off, as it was off). Queue another five or six different red wines (they were all very nice, despite being far too dry for my tastes) and then cuban cigars. What the hell? I like smoking, and there like fags but wrapped in tobacco leaves. Wrong. There like tobaccos that's been fermenting in the same dying mans arse after he's shat out the camebert. I also didn't know your supposed to "enjoy the taste" and not breathe in as much as possible without gagging and then blow smoke rings out of your nose (It's impossible, but I at least tried!).

This dinner occured about seven. New years was still six hours away at least. Queue drinking awful white whiskey, then other spirits I don't remember, then going down to the cellar to get more booze. In France and Belgium in quite a lot of houses iv'e seen there's wine cellars to keep the wine at the correct temperature. What did I spot as soon as turning on the light? None less than an entire shelf of every spirit I could name, and some I didn't know, and A 40 CRATE OF HOEGAARDEN. My most favorite beer ever and there it was, a 40 crate. I spent about half an hour there, taking a swig of each spirit, and guzzling the litre bottle of baileys I went back up with half a dozen bottles of beer for everyone. Turns out there was only the three of us there (Dad, me, Cuban cigar uncle in law). Both of them headed up to bed, despite my protestations of "It's not midnight yet."

Then the really cool thing happened. I decided to see how much I could drink without passing out. Maybe it was the fungus/other shite in the cheese, but I could physically see my limit in the beer bottles. It was the fourth one. I downed three bottles, and looked at the fourth one. I growled at it, bit it's head off and drunk it, remembering to spit the cap out. Then I remember reaching for the fifth, sipping it to prove "I can go past my limit!" and then putting it down. The bog was about ten yards away, so I started crawling towards it thinking "I'll probably need to go pee soon". Then everything went black.

I woke up four hours later (2:00am CET) hearing the sounds of something coughing, and feeling my face getting wetter. It was dark, the telly was off and I was really curious to see who was making the coughing noise. I eventually figured out it was me, and I wasn't coughing. Somehow in my drunken state I managed to collapse with my head facing away from the really expensive persian rug. About five minutes later? However long it takes to chuck up a bellyful of food, cheese, wine and every spirit known to man (no absinthe or brake fluid. That was another story). In the darkness I saw red liquid coming out of my mouth. If I was sober I would have turned on the light and looked to see if it were wine or blood. I sniffed it and ended up choking out a few more bits of vom that were in my nose. I certainly waasn't willing to taste it. I took my jumper off and started crawling to bed, thinking to myself "Well, my tummy doesn't feel bad, and if I am bleeding there's nothing anyone can do now." Woke up next day and heard my grandad laughing as he was clearing up my vom, more than a buckets worth apparently, and a big light patch where my acid/enzyme/alcohol mixture had melted though the thick coating of varnish. I just looked horrified, thinking that stuff could have been in my body.

Morale of this story? I learnt that my limit is quite a lot, and would be more if it wern't for stinky cheese.

*:I don't apologise to the French Cheese industry, at least do what brie does and vacume pack your white shit.

**:I will never understand the appeal in eating fungus infested foods.
(Crs2117, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 13:52, Reply)

2 stories: one ancient, one painfully recent
When I was about 9, we went on a school trip to see the Golden Hind (which I seem to remeber being told was Sir Walter Raleigh's ship) on the Manchester ship canal. The mixture of a 2 hour coach journey, a slightly choppy canal and a vile smell inside the boat led me to puke my guts through a gun port. No sympathy was available, not from the teachers who were embarassed, not from the staff who shouted at me because they were going to have to clean it up (there was vomit all down the side of the ship) and certainly not from my parents, who still haven't let me forget (nearly 14 years later)

Fastforward to two weeks ago. A friend and I went out for 'a drink' at my local. A drink turned into several drinks and the next ,orning I woke up to find that the bathroom sink was full of bright red vomit, with my toothbrush right in the middle of it all. I still haven't worked out why I chose to throw up in the sink when the toilet is right next to it, or how my toothbrush ended up in there. I don't forget the sheer horror of having to dismantle the outlet pipe and flush all of the sick into a bucket then getting dressed and going to an important job interview (funnily enough, I didn't get the job)
(ellen smellen, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 13:52, Reply)

I don't even remember mine
Mate's birthday party. Got exceedingly drunk on alcopops (I believe it was something like 7 Bacardi Breezers, a large bottle of purple Red Square and a Smirnoff Ice), and everything I now relate is from stories from my friends.

Being as I was so drunk, I was a suitable victim for someone's "cocktails" (i.e. grab a glass, fill it with a mixture of whatver alcohol is lying around and give it to someone to see what happens) and drank several. I then found some Jack Daniels and began glugging that direct from the bottle before I decided I didn't like it very much and passed it on to someone else. I then found a bottle of 76% proof absinthe in the kitchen. And glugged several large mouthfuls direct from the bottle. I remember sitting in a chair feeling distinctly woozy after that. Apparently about 15 minutes later I staggered at speed through the kitchen desperately holding back my vom, before falling down the concrete steps into the back garden leaving a pretty arc of vomit across the back door. At the bottom of the steps I attempted to drag myself towards the gutter, leaving a vomit trail behind me. Some rather more helpful friends stopped laughing and helped me sit up on a bench and cleaned me up a bit, and I looked done for a while. About an hour later, a rather large skater friend of mine decided I was safe enough to drag home, and he lifted me to my feet. I vomited on his shoes. He still took me home though (nice chap).

And it doesn't end there... I was still vomiting at one in the afternoon the following day.
(sanity challenged, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 13:49, Reply)

Ferry Teen Puke Story
Ferry to France, school trip, 1984 or thereabouts. Our year was a bit crap and boring but the 2nd years above us were far too grown-up/scary for 12-13year olds in those days on the whole. Due to looking quite old (if not haggard) and the laissez-faire attitude of the ferry staff, many of them managed to procure many cans of cider.

Tracey Stockham* managed to drink about twelve of these, attempted to hurl herself over the side of the ferry, was restrained by her 'friends' then threw herself down behind the rows of airplane-style seats. Where she puked gallons of sourapple smelling gunk, and fell face first into it.

The point of this story is a nostagic flashback to the pure 80's tacky value of seeing someone in a pencil skirt and pointy winklepicker shoes with puke stuck in their 3 cans of hairspray crimped hair, carrot bits in their spikey blue mascara'ed eyelashes and smeared tastefully over the Athena postcard blusher. Crying.

*I would normally never name names, but the Grange Hill-esque quality of this one is too good to pass up.
(clapper, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 13:36, Reply)

Vomit
Once as a student (predictably) was out at a mates uni. Heavy night of dancing attemting and tottaly failing to pull a huge turkish girl. over did the pints and stopped for chips on the way home to crash on his floor. All was spinny but seemingly well unitl I woke during the night to find a wierd, lumpy halo had appeared around my head. Turning on the light reavealed I had projectile barfed in all directions leaving a negative turin shroud of vomit. Even worse my 5 year growth of perfectly maintained dreadlocks was caked, ruined and stinking. I showered sobbing before returning to begin the cleanup. Furthermore my mate was a DJ and his only six feet long halls room was stacked with rare and valuable music which I completely pebbledashed. To this day (8 years on) he claims to find dried partialy digested chips inside in most obscure 12inches. I no longer have dreadlocks, but do still have the friend.

2) I have also vomoted so severley that I knocked myslef out on the bowl and bit through my lip whilst unconcious.

3) As a Kid on a ship I once barfed deliberatly on my younger sisters back.

4) Not strictly my puke but even more shameful - Holding my week old nephew above my head making coo-coo noises when he barfed massivley right into my open mouth. Yes my sister was breatsfeeding at the time. Yes my sister............
(Jamesbrownget down, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 13:25, Reply)

bad vomit, but not for the vomiter
a friend stumbled into the loos at uni, barely able to keep from throwing all over the floor.

he burst into a cubicle and let loose as soon as the door was wide enough, but sadly before noticing the toilet was occupied.

aware that he needed to escape, he quickly decided the best course of action was to punch the fella in the face and then leg it.
(Mantic, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 13:20, Reply)

Plymouth throw
I went out at university to a really grotty hole with chavster karaoke and all the associated horrors of such places. Being an innocent youngster, too much to drink somewhat impaired my reasoning abilities. Unfortunately, the beer-goggles led me to a dark, concrete staircase for a bit of a grope with a wizened old hag who seemed like a bit of an RFA (She services the fleet). Well, what happened was is that while in the process of tongue wrestling, a stomach churning odour struck my taste-buds. The problem was that I had quit smoking 3 months before, and the effect of that nicotine smelling hell-hole coming into contact with me was to cause a terrible vomiting in somebody elses mouth situation. For some reason I started smoking again after that (twunt), but I have stopped now which is a shame as I really enjoyed it. (But it does fucking reek).
(Turnip_cruncher***"It puts the lotion in the basket"***, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 13:18, Reply)

my effort
I used to head to the local meatmarket on wednesdays as it was student night, you could get in wearing Chino's and trainers, and there was a whole cornocopia of student fuel available for £1 a drink.

the night ensued, much banter was had, and several pints of lager, cider & blackcurrant and numerous alcopops were consumed. So much so, that upon leaving, the fresh air must have made me a little dizzy, as on the nightclub forecourt, in front of a cue of about 1000 drunk students, i staggered round in a circle three times and hit the floor with a such a resounding THUMP, the collective "ooooh" was like something out of a movie.

Regardless, my buddies and I piled into a nice new gleaming minicab, and instructed the driver that they were to be dropped off about 4 miles before me, although I was semi concious at this point, sat inbetween two lads on the backseat with my head lolling about and eyeballs rolling. "Nah hes OK mate, just leave him in the high street, he'll find his own way back" they told him before departing and waving me off for the final leg.

I dont really recall much, but about halfway back to mine, I woke up vomiting quite violently through my hands an onto my lap. My Cream chinos now largely purple from the cider and black, I remember sobering up remarkably quickly when the beefy cab driver hollered "WHAT THE F*CK?!! RIGHT!!!!" before slamming on the brakes and opening the driver door.

the abrput decrese in speed caused about 6 pints of vile fluid to shunt off my lap, and directly down the backs of both the driver and passenger seat, and mainly over the centre console and handbrake too.

miraculously, I somehow mustered the steel to fling the passenger side door open, and run somewhat woozily round the bend we had stopped on, stumbling over a rose bush and garden fence on the way. I did not look back, and can only imagine that the cab driver was frozen with anger so much so that he didnt chase me and kick the bejesus out of me.

I woke up several hours later in broad daylight with drizzle falling on my face, covered in purple sick, in a rose bush up the other end of my hometown, and had to walk the remainder of the journey along a dual carridgeway in the rain.
(Screwpot, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 13:11, Reply)

I was quite a late developer
in the realm of beer enjoyment.

One night I was only a third through my pint when everyone had finished, and they were getting bored of waiting for me. So One chap threatened that if I didn't neck it, he would. Not wanting to be done out of beer, I necked it.

On the way out of the pub I thought I was going to belch, and made an "oo" shape with my lips in order to make a comedy burp noise.

Only it wasn't a belch, it was a puke. And this nicely mixed gloop of mincd up chips and beer fountained out of my gob onto the toe of the hulk - six foot something and obviously into bodybuilding. I flashed him a big grin and we legged it before the meathead could realise what I'd just done.
(teasus likes tea, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 13:08, Reply)

For the record
i dont vomit when intoxicated, am i missing out?

the only thing that to this day i cant remember doing due to such copious ammouts of drink was to insist that i show everyone a party trick, so i smashed my head into a bowl of cocktail sausages on sharp sticks, i collapsed on the floor with about 10 sticking out my head, and blood pissing out, my friends kindly pulled them out is a drifed off to the land of nod.

how i managed to not lose an eye in the process in unknown, in the morning i asked where the blood on the walls was from, to be told from me, i then looked at me head to see numerous holes and dried blood. thats what you get for an all day all night session, messy.
(codiak, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 13:03, Reply)

I had been out on a particularly savage piss-up
and my girlfriend said she wanted to stay at mine that night. I was cool with that because the beer had increased my amourous nature by at least 9 pints at this point. We went home and I decided to crack open a bottle of red wine to add to the up-and-coming 'romance' of the evening. We polished this off and went upstairs and started getting down to business. Unfortunately for me, mid-way through my guts started churning and before I could stop myself I had deposited the contents of stomach on her chest and hair (miraculously missing her face!). Needless to say she wasn't amused and left.



She's not my girlfriend any more...
( Soup and a Sandwich, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 12:55, Reply)

i can
i know someone who done the same but left the pan on the stove. the som other severly battered individual staggered along craving food, the fool stupidly thought it was vegetable soup. no one could stop him they were to busy laughing.
(codiak, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 12:42, Reply)

went to Mates fllat for a stoner party
i dont smoke - so we're getting dow to rolling, i bought a bottle ov vodka and some iron bru, to mix - us all being students, and me not knowing much about mixing drink and drugs- having done it quite a few times, with no bad cocequenses(sp?)

anyway, i chucked up in the toilet - they had 2 - one wasa complete bathroom, the other just a toilet room, and apparently no-one would enter there, for the next 2 terms, because it smelled so badly - i then proceded to eat 2 kebabs, and sit uncontrollably grinning, for the next 7 hours
(VashTheStampede http://www.b3ta.com/features/howtopoachanegg/, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 12:36, Reply)

Not me but....
My other half likes real ale, so he went off to the beer festival. Trouble was, he got out of work late, and had to make up for it...by drinking 11 pints in 3 hours, 2 of which were pints of Skullsplitter.
On the way home, he dropped my bike, and had to be convinced by a passer by not to leave it there. He gets home, goes to bed...then legs it down the stairs to the bathroom.
A couple of hours later, we find him curled around bog, groaning, with that horrible sicky smell everywhere. Give him a duvet, book, and alka-seltzer and leave him.
Later, I decide I need the loo, and actually have to GO OUT AND PEE IN THE GARDEN because he is passed out hugging the bog. As I'm going upstairs, I hear movement. He has dragged himself halfway out of the bathroom into the kitchen and is now lying face-down in the cat food bowl. An hour later he crawls up to bed, with cat food still around his mouth. Not nice.
(Beklet is inexplicably angry, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 12:15, Reply)

Dracula....
Once when I was a much younger and sillier lad I had a major crush on a girl I studied with. She was amazing, long chesnut hair, aerobics instructor (you'll have to use your imagination for the long long legs and so on).

One night I thought that I was possibly in with a chance. I'd been trying my best lines and attempting to be as charming as is feasible given my meagre talents and obvious grotesque features. The dinner jacket helped though.

After we'd had a few bottles of red wine each (me I think 3 and a half, her I think just the one) we went back to her place. We sit, chatting, for an hour or so and things are going well. I suddenly feel the urge to return the wine to the vine and suavely sprint to the nearest toilet. I throw up for 5 minutes and it's mainly liquid which was fortunate, and mainly red wine which at least was still relatively fresh and fragrant. I then return to where I thought I had left off.

Sadly, my luck wasn't in that night and I ended up walking home, dejected. When I went to grab a drink of water in the bathroom at home before collapsing into a coma, I realised one potential cause of my failure to score.

After being sick I had neglected to take the time to fully mop myself up. I had bright bright red teeth, lips and chin and some nice red dribbles on my shirt - I looked like I'd been drinking blood....
(lolly, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 12:04, Reply)

Sidney Youngblood
I once managed to polish off a fairly large and rather lethal bowl of punch that we had concocted using anything that tasted too foul to drink on its own pretty much all by myself. My girlfriend and I decided to leave the party and get home, so we phoned a mate who got another friend to pick us up. We stopped near to my girlfriend's house to get into the local park and have a quick joint or two before going home, which on reflection was probably a bad idea.

I'm told that I ran most of the way back after that, singing Sidney Youngblood's "If Only I Could" at the top of my voice. On arriving back at my girlfriend's house (her parents were on holiday) it soon became apparent that I was going to be sick. I had to be helped up to the bathroom, where I spent quite a long time. Eventually, someone else needed to spend a penny. I'm not sure who it was, but someone would have been greeted by the sight of me sitting naked on the toilet, having just taken a huge, rather loose dump, the sink next to me full of vomit, and me completely dead to the world.

This all happened ten years ago and I'm still reminded of it fairly frequently. If you're reading this Jane, I'm so sorry that you had to clear it all up, but you could have at least phoned my boss in the morning before my shift was supposed to start and made an excuse for me.
(JamScones, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 11:48, Reply)