drink driving
growing up in the country meant that someone had to be the taxi driver if we wanted a night out, otherwise it was sell granny and the farm to afford a lift home. Anyway as it was a mates 21st I did the honours, evening went well, pissed up, feeding him whisky through a water pistol and snorting vodka.

Many many hours later he gets in the back of my car, bearing in mind it was at the time a crappy little 3 door fiesta with those nice headrests with big holes in he swears he's fine.

Half hour later and nearly home, check he's ok to which he starts swearing before putting his hand up and chucks up with real projectile force, with the fingers open it difuses the spray all over the others in the back and down the back of my neck, mmm nice.

I think there were still some dried up chunks in the back when the car was eventually sold!
(inkworm, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 15:58, Reply)

First impressions....
I was at a party and was getting friendly with a girl, when it turned out she had to leave. I was feeling a little under the weather after a few too many newcastle brown ales and a red bull had just mixed up my stomach. I walked outside and started to puke. At first I managed to hold it back, not wanting to look like a dick in front of this girl, then it all came up. The only thing I could find was a bin. Unfortunatly it only had openings on he side. Its quite had to project puke into a bin through the side holes. After that I dated the girl for a month!
( bobzarkoff, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 15:21, Reply)

On my dad
I have this really horrible asthmatic cough that rears its head whenever I catch a cold. Sometimes es that cough will cause me to puke. Not always, but every now and then.

When I was about six, I was lying in my bed, tossing and turning in the middle of the night, unable to fall asleep because I was coughing. I just couldn’t stop coughing, no matter what. I was sweating and I was red-faced and my little body was heaving from the coughing. I decide that perhaps I need a drink of water, to soothe my throat and all.

I get up. I am still coughing, making that awful honky sound. As I approach my door, my father thunders in, because he can hear that I am not doing well at all.

At that exact moment, I cough so hard that vomit surges up my esophagus. I purse my lips as tightly as possible, so the vomit doesn’t escape.

My father makes the horribly bad decision to pick me up – and starts demanding that I tell him what’s wrong.

“Em, are you okay? What’s wrong? Talk to me! What’s the problem?” He kept asking me to talk, so I think, maybe I can talk without puking all over my father’s shoulder.

Wrong.

I cover my father’s body with vomit, my father who is only wearing his underpants. My father who is now as red-faced as I am and dripping in my puke.

My mother chooses that moment to come in. Despite the seriousness of the whole event, all of us burst into laughter. Including my father.

Apologies for length.

(yay, first post ever)
(LaChicKitten, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 15:17, Reply)

Field trip vomit explosion......
A fair few year ago I went on a shitty University field trip to Millport in some terribly isolated, wild part of Scotland. There was fuck all to do there and the field trip was a right waste of time!
Anyway, this one night we were all bored and went down the local pub for a drink, a few pints later we spilled back to the youth hostel and sat in the front room area. Being a lairy gob shite I challenged my lecturer to a drinking competition and he responded by producing a bottle of vodka and two bottles of whisky!
The competition started.... he filled two tumblers to the brim with vodka and we started drinking with everyone watching! Since I can't handle my drink I have no idea what I was doing, and the night becomes a big black hole after we had finished the bottle of vodka! However, apparently we went on to drink through the a bottle of whisky and then another half. At this point I apparently had a nights drinking catch up with me and promptly lost all the use of my limbs and neck. Being concerned one of the lasses tipped my head back as I slipped into unconcsiousness! BIG MISTAKE! The ensuing fountain of vomit emitted from mouth and nose, all over a radius of 5 foot directly in front of me. I then fell forward onto the floor and crawling around on my hands an knees puking!
Apparently if observing this sort of situation requires people to laugh and produce cameras, and encourage me to do crap ali g impressions through the vom.
I remember none of this but have the photos as painfull evidence!
I am however, blessed with the ability to wake the next day with no hang over or anything and feel completely normal - this got me a standing ovation when I went down for breakfast, and the last laugh on the lecturer who threw up all over himself in bed and stayed there all day! HA! *SMUG*
(Manatee Fondler, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 15:10, Reply)

Whats the difference between curry and puke?
I was told this by a boss of mine at work. Apparently, after a heavy evening's week, they all went off to a pub to get scoobied. Then they went to a local Indian restaurant for to line their poor vomit incubating stomachs. At which point, before the food arrived, they chucked up all over the table.

"The Indian staff people were quite good," my boss told me," they packaged it all up and my colleagues sat on New Malden station eating it".

"What, the vomit?" I asked.

Needless to say, that brought such horrible mental images to mind that I left New Malden after that. Probably the dead cat they put in the curry. Blergh
(Wrecked Tums, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 15:09, Reply)

whole package of macaroni and cheese on the sidewalk.
Kraft. Pretty much preserved.

Oh yeah. And once I chundered all over my gameboy. Stain never came out of the gameboy or the carseat.
(Armer Farmer, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 15:09, Reply)

mmm, pasta
Back when I was 16 I was getting ready to go out to my local pub on a Saturday evening. Being a young lad, my mum didn't want to see me going out on an empty stomach so she treated me to a very large bowl of pasta with a cheesy tomato sauce. This slipped down rather nicely.
As I entered the pub, I realised that I was feeling just a little bit queesy. Straight to the bar I went to order my favourite drink, a lovely can of cider and black(currant) to settle my stomach. As the first drop of this hit the pasta in my rather full stomach, it decided that the whole contents must be evacuated. Immediately. I had a choice of either barging through the a pub full of people to get to the toilets or making a run for it out of the front door. I chose the door as it was rather closer than the bogs, and just got out in time to leave a rather large pile of pasta, cheese and tomato sauce and a small quantity of cider + black on the pavement, at 7pm or so on a bright summer evening in a busy town. It was Bridgend, the pub was the King's Head. It later got turned in to one of those O'Neills Irish theme bars (the pub that is, not the vomit).
(carindal chunder, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 14:09, Reply)

Phantom Chunder
Millenium news years eve in Cardiff. As you can imagine the booze was flowing like the river Taff and everybody, including my then girlfriend (Who was unbelievably refined and well mannered) was properly leathered. After the traditional shenanigans we made our way back to her parent's place, where I vaguely remember passing out in her room.

I woke up the next morning not just with a mouth like Ghandi's sandal, which I was expecting, but completely naked and alone in a bare bed, which I wasn't.

My clothes were nowhere to be found so I robbed up one of her dresses and went looking for my bird's little sister. She refused to tell me what was going on but handed me a note written in the flowery hand of my missus. The exact wording was;

"Forgot you were there. Was sick all over you. Stripped you down. Washed you and sheets. Was sick on you again. Cried. Left. Am now in Brighton, ashamed. Sorry."

I had to wait another 2 hours for my clothes to be dry, sat in the kitchen with her family in a fairly see-through dress. Nice.
(Kong, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 13:39, Reply)

Sandwich Box Shenanigans
I was 15-ish, at another one of those teenage parties where I felt like a handbrake on a canoe (i.e. utterly out of place). Decided to have a drink or two and after a while woke up singing to myself lying in the flowerbed (convincing myself that as I remembered all the words that I couldn't have been THAT drunk). Well, I was sober enough to cycle 6 miles home to South Oxford at 3am, where I sneaked upstairs to bed. Then the fun begins - I desperately needed to puke, but going to the bathroom would have woken my parents. So I look around for something to be sick into, and find the sandwich box in my schoolbag. Honk into that & hide it under the bed.

The next morning I wake & the first think I think is "jesus what's that smell?". Last night's receptacle is now filled with a deep red mix of cheap French plonk & party nibbles..I don't think the staining ever came out.

I'd love to be able to say I've never been ill since but that would be fibbing.
(MattyB, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 13:10, Reply)

a tram ride to far
after a considerably heavy drinking session celebrating christmas at the office party, i done the inevitable asnd missed my last train and crashed at a mates house. to get back to my house envolved a tram ride from croydon to wimbledon, not a problem i thought, just sit still breath softly and hopefully the smell of oranges and a watery jaw won't happen. as the tram pulled up to the station outside valley park a the smell of oranges flooded into my mouth and i proceeded to spray the sweet little o.a.p. sitting oppersite me with about 10 pints and enough vodka chasers to open up your own cocktail bar.

as you can imagine she wasn't best pleased so i made a quick exit from the tube and continued to 'techni-colour yawn' into a nearby bush.
(sminamus, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 13:08, Reply)

a couple, i'll keep them quick.
coming home the morning after a wedding in hampshire, my girlfriend chose the spot AFTER a layby on the A3 to say 'i have to puke, right now' only option? i slow to about 50 and let her puke out of the window, vom is flying through the air and all down the side of the car. i showed all our mates when we got home too.

when i was 16 having not had a spliff in a while i met up with some old buddies for a huge session, the result was me projectile puking all over his bedroom floor, nice!

most scary was waking up after a massive stella session with puke on the pillow next to me, i was fucking terrified.
(incredible wrongun, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 13:05, Reply)

A Boozy one and a Not Boozy One
..But not in that order.
As kid we went to the local chinese restaurant once a month. I always had sweet and sour pork and special fried rice, followed by fried ice cream. Got home feeling fine, but woke up about 2 am feeling remarkably sticky. I had apparently felt the urge to hurl, and somnambulantly perambulated about half way from my bed to the toilet, vomiting pink goop the whole way. When my heaves had subsided, I had not seen the point in continuing and so had turned right back around and gone back to bed. I only woke when a follow-on sicklet had spread all over my face. Once I discovered what had happened, I woke my parents. They had a big old stress about carpet stains and cleaned me and everything else up which took ages. What was remarkable was that my bed was clean and didn't need changing. Once I got the last grains of rice out of my eyes, it was back to bed and back to sleep. The next morning, forgetting all about the night before, I jumped out of bed. My wardrobe was on the far side of my bed from my door, and it bisected my room. No one had checked that side of my bed. I went ankle deep into cold, congealed, regurgitated sweet and sour pork with a distinct scream of unhappiness. I was not allowed to move until mum brought a bucket.

The beer one is shorter. Had gone out with some mates, drank tequila, beer, champagne, vodka, etc whilst sitting around a campfire getting increasingly stupid. It started raining so we went back to my mate's place to go to bed. We all had a late night snack of choice - mine being about 8 bananas. We were all being really silly by this time and I had wrapped my double duvet around my head turban style, held in place with elastic straps. To sleep, I just pulled the whole thing down over my head and dreamt dreams of unsurpassing claustrophobic terror. I woke in the morning, convinced I had been mummified, and found the duvet stuck in place with the paste of 8 bananas, reeking of tequila.

Neither girth, nor length, should ever be apologised for, provided socks are removed and toenails are well trimmed.
(I am the infinite monkey!, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 12:52, Reply)

vom
i was 16 at a mates party, and my fresh young liver stood up to the Johnnie Walker Red label assault pretty well, until i found myself lying in a flowerbed waiting to puke about midnight. Some kind soul made me come inside to throw up in the bathroom, but I was so blind drunk I used the bath instead of the toilet. Post puke and a little soberer, I thought I'd be nice and wash it down the plughole but for some dumbass reason it wasn't plumbed in, and my diluted puke was soon flooding the bathroom and through the floor down the walls downstairs, causing untold damage to a priceless collection of grandfather clocks, and a hefty insurance claim. Never did own up, but sorry Matt
(robinflipzzz, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 12:46, Reply)

A Non-Alchohol Induced Incident
Had a quantity of extremely badly cooked barbeque food, dripping with grease. (OK, the chef was my prospective shag for that night, so I wasn't going to complain). I felt pretty awful, and lost out on the shag, so decided to hop on my motorcycle and ride home. Felt horrible, sweating profusely and belching foul smelling gases. Riding quite rapidly 'cos I was pissed off, caught a tractor-trailer combo at a fair rate of knots. Oncoming traffic, so I sat behind the crawling rig. Which appeared to be dripping. Then the smell of offal hit me. I got to a point of no return, pass or puke so I wound the throttle to the stop and screamed past the rig like a bat out of hell. And then threw. Full face helmet, 75 mph. Blind. Well, severe visual jaundice actually. Fumbled to open up the visor, and was then re-blinded by a wind-borne spray of semi-digested food. Came to a halt rapidly on the second blinding, and was nearly wiped out by an oncoming truck. Got home with front smelling of vomit, and rear end with evidence of close call. Most unpleasant. Week off work with food poisoning. And no, I never did shag her.
(the rt. hon. JimBob I Spy B3ta: 100 points, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 12:45, Reply)

When I was..
Working as a barkeep for the local Tavern, not so very long ago, one poor bloke had a few too many. This was not a rare occurence, he was well known for liking a drink, and then as we closed up the pub, me and Dave (head barman) noticed him passed out on the floor leaning on the outside wall of the pub. Since I knew where they guy lived I said I'd take him home, so me, Dave and a leftover bouncer loaded him into my car, which was a brand spanking new 1.2 Fiat Punto, in a nice shade of red.
We'd got halfway back to his house before he woke up and looked at me in the way a cow looks at an oncoming train, before arching his head back and chucking all over my dashboard. This displeased me, so I duly pulled over and kicked the pissed bastard out of the car.
As much as I'd have loved to beat the living daylights out of him, they'd already been vomited out of him and he was by now quite unconcious. It was at this point that things got really silly. It just so happened that a couple walked by while I was trying to wake him up, and then a fire engine turned up. With the couple shouting at me to ring and ambulance, me trying to make sure he didn't choke on his own vomit and the firemen trying to get sense out of anyone, I got a bit confused.
Then, before anything else could happen, an ambulance showed up, summoned by some unseen force. They loaded our man into the back and carted him off. At that point I asked the firemen if they had some water and a cloth handy, and so it came to be that me and 2 firemen spent 15 minutes cleaning out my car at 2 O'clock on a Wednesday morning.
To this day, our drunken friend still doesn't know how he ended up in the hospital that night, and I still haven't quite got rid of the stain on my mats.
(BassNinja, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 12:17, Reply)

KFC
Went to visit a friend in Cape Town and went to a pub for a few beers, got hungry so decided to have some KFC. On the way there, our appetites weren’t big enough so decided to have a joint... Got the KFC and sat down in store to have our meals. I started eating my chicken which contained enough oil for the whole of the US supply and felt queasy. Said to my mate, this stuff's going to make me and.... BAARF. Puked all over the counter, myself and my mate (who was very unimpressed). Left store in a hurry got myself cleaned and walked pass for a second look... Shop closed due to....
(LaughingJack, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 12:13, Reply)

Public Vomit Fountain Spectacular
I was sick at work one afternoon a few months ago after eating a dodgy sandwich for lunch. Throwing up didn't help - I was feeling worse by the minute, and really needed to get home and lie down with a bucket. So I left work early and literally staggered, faint and dizzy, to the train station. By now the slightest smell of anything other than pure air (traffic fumes, armpits, imagined pies) would turn my hair-trigger stomach.

But it was the rush hour, the train arrived packed and I had to stand. It was a new one as well, so it had all those "new car" fresh plastic smells, which made everything worse. Someone must have seen my look of agony and gave me a seat - good, now I could sit head in hands & concentrate desperately on not being sick. I was concentrating so hard though that I failed to notice my nose streaming onto the floor. With only a few more stops to go, a woman sitting opposite said "Your nose is running, love" and gave me some tissue.

That did it - it broke my concentration, all lights turned green for GO, and I threw up all over the tissue, my hands, and the floor. In between hurls I managed to ask if anyone had a plastic bag, and carried on into that. I also managed to apologise to everyone while throwing up as well, no mean feat, & even felt like saying "and another thing!" before adding another "blooarrgh" into the bag.

After a few minutes I was all done, and sat knackered, eyes shut, head in hands, carefully knotted bag of warm sick dangling from one hand, wondering if the day could possibly get any worse.

And then the woman opposite said: "Scuse me, your bag's leaking, love"... and it was, fountaining through the air onto the floor. More tissue, mop it up, another bag... shit shit shit....

Anyway, all's well that ends well, but I'd just like to apologise again to everyone within earshot on that Wirral Line train, and thank them for their concern once it became apparent I wasn't on twenty cans of Special Brew. Thank God it wasn't diarrhoea.
(Herbert Piles, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 12:10, Reply)

"Employee of the month"
My first ever full time job was working for a cheesy (and now closed) mobile phone retail company. In order to get the team (staff) motivated (together and pissed) they had a monthly "Employee of the Month" award ceremony. Now, to get people to go they provided beer and nibbles... lots of beer and a few nibbles.

I remember one night when, after the ceremony and about 8 beers, we all descided to go on to the pub and things got a bit blurry after then. More beers and a curry came into the evening but they remain to this day a faint blur until about 12am when I got home when the sudden sobering up moment had occured.

It happened all so suddently; one moment I was trying to get into bed, the next, more of my vomit was in the bed than I was. I remember thinking that this was a bad state of affairs and that I couldn't possibly sleep in a chunder filled bed. Instantly sober.

I remember stripping off the bed, washing the covers in the shower (to get the bits of korma off the sheets) and popping them into the washing machine (I was living with my parents at the time and I didn't want to face the sympathy of being found to have yacked all over my bed).

I awoke next morning, feeling a bit worse for wear and in search of coffee only to find my mum in the kitching smiling at me. She asked me if I'd had a good night and, just as I thought I'd got away with it, asked me if I'd been sick. I admitted that I had and asked how she knew. She pointed to the open washing machine door the the back legs of the cat sticking out.

No, I should point out that the cat was a HUGE beast; 16lbs of Ginger brawler who would eat anything and it was he who had given the game away. As soon as the waching machine door had been opened he had gone over and stuck his head inside. The loud purring and sounds of munching as he ate the lumps of curried, regurgitated and washed lamb out of the washing machine had give the game away.

Betrayed by your own cat... bummer.
(Khaine, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 11:59, Reply)

Christmas party, 1999
My birthday is a week before Christmas. The works Christmas do, by some freak coincidence, is also a week before Christmas. This to me spells opportunity with a capital PISSUP.

So I make a point of mentioning to a few guys there that it's my birthday. On to a winner here - 4 pints later and I haven't dipped into my pocket yet. Then comes the vengeance shot.

"Sure, I'll buy you a drink, as long as you drink it"

Now a sober person knows this line and it's hidden meaning. Me on the other hand thought it was a damn good idea. Cue half a pint of Top Shelf.

For those unfamiliar with this fine beverage, it's a fine selection of the most ping-pong tiddly in the nuclear sub. This glass has a 20% vol minimum requirement for any spirit desiring entry. Fortunately, this was before Absinthe was back in fashion.

Being young, naive and fairly new at the job, I had an obvious desire to show my worth. So I necked this drink. In one. How I wish this was the end.

At this point I'm not feeling as bad as I expected. Now it's entirely possible that my liver is simply in shock and will be getting back to me later, but right now I just feel nicely pissed. Cue new girlfriend. 1 pint. Contents similar to previous drink, followed by top ups from the glass of everyone in the pub. It doesn't look pleasant. I say no way. She says "you better fucking drink it, that just cost me a tenner" I think "you asked for it"

Last memories of the night: Removed from pub at 8:30pm. Taxi fare £45 for a usual £3 fare. Was told the next day that I had the decency to put the plugs in before filling every sink in the gents with my stomach lining. Oh yeah, and I spent New Years Eve, 1999, in hospital with alcohol poisoning.

For some reason, I've never really felt welcome in that pub since. I think it's the fact that the closest I've been to it is bouncers arms length away. Fucking good night though.
(bblgoose, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 11:23, Reply)

Looks good enough to eat......
A few years back, in my student days, a number of friends came round to my place for a pre-club warmup. I'd just polished off a plateful of chicken fajitas before we all tucked into a number of bottles of white whine and occasional shots.

The evening went well (despite rumours from the neighbours the next day about a naked man singing in the garden. Not me i might add) and we proceeded to the club as planned.

I'd obviously misjudged things a little because within 5 mins of getting there i was discovered sitting on a stool at the bottom of some stairs completely surrounded by mexican poultry surprise. This section of the club was now inaccesible.

The friend who had found me pulled up a stool, plonked himself down next to me, swung a reassuring arm round my shoulder, said "are you ok?" and then, just as i was perking up to this show of solidarity, he calmly leant down, picked up a piece of chicken, popped it in his mouth, swallowed it and left smiling to himself.

Needless to say the vomiting continued....

Oh and the bouncers were surprisingly understanding about all this. I wasn't chucked out, they simply threw lots of small objects at me the next time i was at the club. God bless 'em. Sniff.
(Fat_Baz_turd, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 10:27, Reply)

Cheese Fondu Vs Home-Made Wine
Shortly after belting downa huge amount fo my mum's finest Cheese Fundu, my brother got a call from a mate... Come on round to our place, we're gonna get pissed and sleep in the barn. Bring your little brother.

So.... I become the test subject, and endevour to down a bottle of mate's Dad's home-made goosbery and rhubarb wine.

When the obvious happened, I barfed over a chicken that was sleeping outside the barn. We laughed ourselves silly in the morning, as the chicken had aparently stayed put at the time, but the cheese had solidified over night, and had stuck the birds wings together with the "go go spidey-web" style cheese-vom.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Tue 24 Aug 2004, 9:59, Reply)

Not strictly MY vomit...
... and not strictly drink either. But I suppose I've got to put my two cents in here... Basically the story goes like this.

German exchange student. Couldn't speak a word of English. High school, long ago. (well technically yes he could speak English... most of it was nonsensical bollocks starting with 'Z' though. Thought I'd better fit that in somewhere.) Anyway, I was in my Computer studies class when all of a sudden he copiously vomited everywhere. His keyboard, mouse, monitor, etc were all covered with a rather nasty looking brew - greenish I recall, with horrible looking little puffy lumps in it. Later that day he explained to me that he was lactose intolerant and he'd had fruityloops for breakfast with lime milk on them because he couldn't tell his host mum that he couldn't eat them... oh how I laughed. Poor bastard... I taught him the phrase 'lactose intolerant' after that and he never repeated the excercise again.

and now we're buddies... that's nice to know I suppose.
(brazzin, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 9:47, Reply)

After a night of cider...
I can't stand cider. Well actually I hate the fucking stuff, but still I was at a mates house and all the fucking bums could aford was cider crap. White Ace I think. Anyway still drank loadsa the stuff. I was pissed but fine. When I got home and got to bed my head was spinning. I threw up right next to my bed and felt dirty. I sat there for about 5mins and thought fuck it. Turnt over my pillow which was sweaty and went back to sleep and stuck my sheets in the wash and cleaned it all up with out my step mum even noticing. HAHAHA
(Dry Crackers, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 9:05, Reply)

All you can eat - Stand By Me style
Friends 21st birthday at an all you can eat restaurant. About 15 of us are sitting around a table eating till our stomachs hurt.
In the middle of the table sat a big square of jelly that no one could possibly fit in.
Someone covers it in salt and pepper and we all dig deep for spare change then dare one eager guest about AUS$8 to eat it.
He swallows it in two bites but it immediately comes back up- he's visibly heaving with little squirts coming out of his lips till he can hold it no more and lets loose onto his plate. This sets off the guy across from him and he pukes too and then someone else and someone else. About 6 of us puked one after the after - it was in the ice buckets, all over the table, the floor, everywhere...

Needless to say we all jumped up and legged it.
(flash, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 8:36, Reply)

Purgational Trifecta
1. About six years old, attending a party at some rich old fart's house. I think I am going to be sick, but I don't know anything about this house, except it was huuuge and full of expensive ugly grandma-crap, and I just knew I wouldn't find the bath in time, so I discreetly puked into a closet. Unfortunately it was the guest coat closet, and afterwards I had to put on my best angel face as everyone wondered which of the dogs had done this bad stinky low-ph thing.

2. In seventh grade, one kid simply opened his mouth and a horizontal jet of barf shot out and besplatted the neck of the boy in front of him, and then fanned out in a beautiful peacock-tail pattern. Not my vomit, I know, but I got some splashback and a visually arresting memory.

3. I learned as a tot that Brazil nuts made me puke like a mother bird working the school lunch line. Ever the scientist, I decided to eat samples of every other nut I could find to determine just how allergic I was. During the two weeks or so I was experimenting I think I put out more than went in, and even today just the smell of filberts gets me all hurly.

Oddly enough, never went the booze route in College - just huge quantities of hallucinogens, thank you. I will puke no more forever.
(meatybrain, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 6:28, Reply)

vomit/wanking disasters
I flippin love drinking me.

As a nipper, on a wanky work course in York for a few days, I met an older bloke called Bone (twas his nickmonicker) who is a whizz at singing, playing guitar, socialising and imbibing.

We head for some beers and get trashed in several bars while Bone plays medallies of songs for free beers; lovely. Then on to a nightclub called Christ knows what in a former Synagogue.

I had had the odd puff on a funny cigarette previous so had my brave boots on. Up the top floor of this gaff, Bone rolls a few smokos involving some oily stuff and a bit of grass. Well stone the crows. I have a dance in a corner and feel pretty good, bit weird, but good weird. Then its back to a cellar bar for a lock in with the owner, who we had met at some earlier point in the evening.

It all goes tits up. A few more puffs and I've got the dreaded fear, whitey and the stomach is registering compliants. Best go to the bog and hide. Got to the bog and puked it all nicely into the water closet, then felt a bit warm so stripped off and lay on the nice cool tiles.

Bone rather kindly woke me at 4-5am lying naked in my own piss and vom (don't remember when that happened) and got me together. My head was spinning like billy oh. We got back to the Uni halls we were staying in and into bed.

When I opened my eyes everything was wrong in the world, closed though, lovely. In fact quite horny lovely. Had the best wank of my entire life and woke up the adjoining room (judging by the banging) with my ecstatic moans.

Spent the morning in a poxy seminar with puke on my shoes and not a friend in the world.

No apologies for length but request forgiveness for earlier blasphemy.

PS Never let good sense stop you from having a fly toke on some one elses gear. Let foolhardyness be your watchword and shining light.
(narcogimp, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 4:27, Reply)

another 4
when i was 5 my dad gave me beer.bad idea.i went for a ride on my trike,hit a bump and threw up.on my dad's car.

quite a while ago,i was walking down the street when i came across a bottle of 'apple juice'.i knew it could be old so i sniffed it.it was piss that had been sitting for more than a week in the middle of summer.i threw up and a dog ate it.

One night while i was sitting in my room playing bf1942 and listening to muzik,I had the urge to drink coke.i did.when i was done i felt the urge to shit.it was an urge like no-other.It was the most rancid shit i have ever smelt!i managed to get up and spin round in time to throw up right in the crapper!

not me but my mate.He loved getting into fights at school but he always took it too far.anyway one day he got into a big fight,sorta one of those everyone-knows-except-the-teacher fights.the day finally arrived and the first thing to happen was a punch.aimed at his balls.BAM!! direct hit!he fell over and huddled up into a small ball,as you do, and started to throw up every-fucking-where!but mainly on the git who punched him's new sneakers.they both got a letter from the school and my mate got a cheer from everyone,including his mum when he got home with the letter!needless to say,he stopped getting into fights on purpose...
(That guy with a hat., Tue 24 Aug 2004, 2:00, Reply)

GOD DAMN LURKER!!
Thats allotta puke!!
(That guy with a hat., Tue 24 Aug 2004, 1:26, Reply)

Of Cider and Trains...
On a train going back to Stafford from Coventry one evening, much the worse for wear and burdened with my evenings investment in strong dry cider I felt compelled to go and fetch up in the fine bogs provided on all BR trains of the period (1985?) I was stood up, braced against the wall and ready. Nothing could go wrong. Then we entered the big railway junction by Wolverhampton and the train started to sway violently. I was at the point of no return (is there a vinegar strokes type term for that?) and as I could clearly see 2 bogs, it seemed that the thing to do would be to hurl equally down both. The combined motion of the train and me meant that they were both moving in circles beneath me. I puked. They rotated. I covered both bog seats perfectly and uniformly in Cider Puke, and I swear that not a drop went down the middle...
( A Lurker jacked up on B3ta on, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 1:14, Reply)

Further Guiness Joy
Same lad as in the fiesta story. Dad woke one morning at his customary 7am and was disturbed to find that his only son's bed hadn't been slept in. (How he knew is anyone's guess as the room always looked to me like it had just been used to host a large rave, his son managed to set fire to the room shortly afterwards, but that, gentle reader, is another story.) Anyway, all ended happily when he went for a leak in the downstairs croucher only to find his missing son and heir spread out face down and sleeping like a baby in an enormous lake of Guiness and Kebab...
( A Lurker jacked up on B3ta on, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 1:05, Reply)