Millennium
After a monumental street party, gin,wine,vodka,champagne,beer,nibbles etc, I woke up the following morning to realise my body felt like it had been passed through a mangle. My boyfriend and I had to travel back from my mothers that very same morning, so we said our goodbyes and proceeded to take a nice leisurely drive for the 70 mile journey.

Unfortunately, it seemed that my guts disliked the windy country roads and everytime I burped I could taste gin. Now this would have been fine, but my bowels decided to join in on the fun and make themselves known. Sitting in the car, I valiantly tried to hold on to the contents of both my stomach and my arse but the pressure was just too much.

After screeching at my boyfirend to pull over, I managed to leap out of the car and chunder copiously over the tarmac, sadly the force of this released a gust of the most horrific eggy wind from my nethers which blew into the car and promptly induced a bout of dry retching from my boyfriend, which in turn made me throw up green bile.

So there we were on Millenium day, my boyfriend dry heaving and me quacking out pockets of foul gas every time we went over a bump, whilst reeking of sick. He drove the whole 70 miles with both windows open and freezing January air blasting into my face.

We're no longer together......
( Scary Mary The D'oh Fairy, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 19:00, Reply)

What's that smell?
Thursday. On this particular Thursdayy night there was a lot of alcohol, and most of it was consumed by yours truly. I slept like a baby, literally, you know the way babies vomit on themselves? Well I did just that in my bed.

Woke up Friday morning, reeking of vom. Woke up late for an important, obligatory tutorial. No time for shower/bath. Had to hastily wash face and apply a heck of a lot of aftershave to hide the smell.

Sat in the tutorial ten minutes, saying nothing. Left to 'use the bathroom'. Didn't return for 40 minutes as hugging toilet bowl chucking up even more liquid. (the tutor even sent a fellow student in to check on me, poor bastard - the smell in the toilet was horrific).

But that's not where it ends. Rather than head home to wash, I had to row in a 2000m time trial. Couldn't let the team down (although, honestly it would have been better had I not even turned up_. The sweat caused the smell to pulse from my skin, my entire rowing crew complained.

And finally, we crossed the line in the boat, everyone puffed out. Except me, I just leaned over the side of the boat and chucked my guts once more for good times' sake. And my fit as f**k coach was there waiting for us, and thought me to be the worst, most unfit weakling.

And all because I wanted to get p*ssed.

Gave up drinking that Friday I did.

Needless to say took it back up on Sunday.
(CustardCar is riding the back. with a hat., Fri 20 Aug 2004, 18:53, Reply)

Not particularly lethal
but it's gone down in the b3ta annals, so here's my side of the story. The day: Saturday 27th March. The event: Vulga's 27th birthday bash. The time: midnight. The place: Darkedge towers, Brighton.

I'd been drinking since 12.30 p.m., so was reasonably soused, but perfectly comfortable. After chucking out time, we staggered back to Darkedge's, where Glis, who's capacity for drink is similar to that of a horse, suggested shots of Tuaca. Two, in fact. A very, very bad idea. Oh, the sweating. Oh the gurgling. Oh, the promising bovine that I wasn't going to be sick. Fat chance. I exploded. It was nasty, but we dealt with it, and I collapsed. Some time later I erupted again, this time showering myself completely, as I was almost asleep. After that, I sort of passed out, not hearing glis, vulga and others - who had all been out drinking more - come back, and laugh and point. I apologetically left at about 7.30 the next morning. The cat gave me such a glare.

I must say that the b3tan, however, is a far more tolerant creature and mizemma, bovine and Darkedge all worked bravely to clear up after my stupid arse. *doffs hat*
( dotmund .co.uk, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 18:51, Reply)

This
is my favourite puke story ever. Friend of mine spent a joyous Friday night getting completely slaughtered at the local crap disco. She staggered into the room she shared with her sister at about two a.m. and did that thing you do when you're really, really drunk where you just sort of lie there, absolutely unable to sleep but too hopelessly plastered to do anything else but lie there not moving and hope the spinning stops soon.

As usually happens, after about half an hour of this she felt really, really sick, but knew she was far too drunk to make it to the loo, as she felt she'd done astonishingly well to make it as far as her room. So she decided the only sane thing to do was puke into her handbag, which she located in the dark and filled to the brim with bilious heaves.

She wakes up about nine the next morning, with an inner groan of "oh fuck, I threw up in my handbag last night, didn't I?". She fishes it out from under the bed and gingerly opens it to be confronted with... her makeup, her purse, some keys, a packet of tissues and a couple of condoms.

As she ponders the possibility that, finally, those weird supernatural beings that put your clothes in the fridge while you're sleeping off a massive bender had done something nice for a change and spirited her vom off to that place where the tenner you remember having in your pocket when you left the pub goes, the phone rings.

It is her sister.

She has just arrived at school.

And she has just opened her schoolbag.
(Wong Fei-Hung - now with added flickr.com (see profile), Fri 20 Aug 2004, 18:22, Reply)

New Years Party
Only a few days before new years eve, it was decided that a housewarming party, where two quasi-friends had, after being annoying to each other, decided to annoy each other in the same household.
But hurrah for the festive season, everyone turned up for the pre-new years eve's eve party.

The night started to go badly when I realised I had forgotten my lighter, so, chatting away in the kitchen and drinking, I turned the electric cooker on to light my cigarettes(hold cigarette in mouth, attach to hob, breathe in until it lights and before your face starts to go crispy).

Many many reefs later(on special offer), I find that the quasi-friends girlfriend is being remarkably friendly and we both start searching the house in vain for a private place(in the middle of a party, yeah right).
We finally find the alley outside, and since its the one deserted place, myself and blokes girlfriend get very friendly. Its around the time with pants around my ankles, and both our hands getting very intimate, that my stomach decides that its had quite enough of that. In my drunken state thou, the last thing I wanted to do is leave whilst there is a hand being so friendly to my parts. So I hold it in.... for about 5 seconds..... I survive the first onslaught in my mouth.... now full..... but the second onslaught was not. very. far. behind.

Shall we jump forward 10 seconds to avoid the gory details. But aforesaid quasi-friends girlfriends cleavage is making a rather interesting vom holder. All the way to the top and quivering, with the rest in a pretty orange and red waterfall dripping down....

This is the point her boyfriend comes outside to find us. Me with my pants round my ankles, and his girlfriend semi-naked with puke dripping out of her bra and down her front.

Quickly getting my pants up, I escape in his confusion before he makes the obvious "lets be violent" change of mind.

Did you remember the cooker?

You know.....
The one I'd been lighting my cigarettes on?

In my escape, the final flurry of puke projected itself over the cooker, and proceeded to turn into puke omelette.... stinking out the whole house.... as I carry myself, and some of the witnesses to the ordeal leg it laughing.
.........

The weirdest part of this story, in the pub the next day recovering, quasi-friend.... a devout christian(no sex till marriage devout... which possibly explains the actions of athiest girlfriend)..... wanders over, quite cheerfully, forgives me, AND Buys Me A Drink.

Apparantly after the initial confusion and argument, it occurred to him it was actually highly amusing, and maybe gods way of telling his girlfriend not to be such a cheating bint.

All in All.. it worked out quite well.

Apologies for the length of this.... its hard to be concise about this.
(NoMoreFaith can believe its not bloody butter, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 18:21, Reply)

chunder on a swing
I can remember as a young boy I thought it nifty that I could call up ralph at will by snorting hard through my nose, which after a few minutes would bring up the sick. I don't remember my exact age at the time of this incident, but it was somewhere between 6 to 9. Me and my older brother were on the swing set at the farm having a merry time seeing how high we could swing. I had an itch on my nose, so tried to wiggle my nose and snorted to get rid of it. Bad idea. For some reason that instantly hit that spot and with out warning I opened my mouth and barked up the contents of my stomach. This was of course just as I was reaching the lowest point of the forward swing so my ballistic breakfast sprayed all over my legs and blew back on my chest, continuing up to the apex of the forward swing thus firing a good arc of my aerial bile manoeuver up and over the lawn infront of me, ceasing as my momentum changed and carried me backwards. Cue me leaping off the swing and running in the house to change clothes and clean off. Never since have I dared to intentionally try and laugh the technicolour rainbow. Though my brother got quite the kick out of it he said after.
(Cloven, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 17:57, Reply)

Drunken revelry
Being drunk is like being a demigod.
You have the power to puke + you don't care + your'e partially excused. I mean partially because I was thrown out, rather gently, after puking on a dancer in a local club/disco/whatever it is. Oh and I also found out that my stomach turns sweetcorn green. I bet no one can do that.
(Musk ox hygene inspector, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 17:50, Reply)

Drunk Vomit
Not me but a friend. I didnt actually see it but apparently he got really drunk n fell asleep. He then sicked in his sleep and other friends had to carry him down the stairs (which he puked on as well) and into the bathroom. He was then violently sick again into the toilet but after he got it all out of him he turned his head, spat on the wall and said "that's better". Not v.g. but it's all i can remember ;)
(900c58, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 17:47, Reply)

most embaressing day of my life
1. Last year on my 18th birthday, i thought it would be a fantastic idea to smoke as much as humanly possible, before my birthday meal. It wasn't a good idea.

Me and 2 of my friends smoked alll damn day at the beach, then tried to walk home. I stopped at what was the 'alldays' in Tuckton, Bournemouth.

As I got to the counter, Basketfull of munch, i felt a bit icky, "thats £6.10" please", so i give her a tenner, "Have you got the extra 10p?", "yeah sure" i reply and start looking through my wallet.

As i unzip my wallet, I pretty much black-out, headbutt the counter and then slide down the side of it. This i must add is my local shop, i go in it pretty much everyday. Everybody tried to help me up and took me outside, needless to say, i chucked everywhere on the way out, being dragged by 2 shop workers.

As i get outside my mates see me, totally white, spew down my front and being dragged outside, i tried to sit down, but instead just fell over and banged my head on the bin.

The Manager was going to call the ambulance, but my mates, surprisingly quickly started rambling on falsely that i was diabetic, so to give me sugar! excellent work

Wasn't all bad, i did get a free ribena!

2. About 4 weeks ago i went to Turkey, stayed in a nice all-inclusive hotel, and got wasted all the time.

Second day, i was violently sick during karaoke night, where i was dueting with my little sister on 'barbie-girl' as Ken. Sweet jesus... "come on Barbie lets go.. hwuuurrrgrhrghrgr"

3. Turkey again, feeling shit the day after karaoke i went tandem paragliding, took 45 minutes to get up the mountain, on the back of an old landrover. About 5 minutes into my descent, my pilot began the tricks.

I've never been sick from 6000ft before, but it was an experience ill never forget.

Will
(mrmonkfish yolo420weedwizard, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 17:44, Reply)

One morning I woke up at half seven
(as you do when you're six years old) and managed to climb over taps and dishwashers to where the goodies were stored. I nearly fell over with glee when i saw not one, but two tubes of pringles (Sour Cream and Onion, if you must know.) I scoffed the lot in world-record time (possibly because no-one else has ever eaten two tubes of pringles in a row) and waited until my father came down in his dressing gown to send the half-digested crisps back up my oesophagus and out my mouth. Now imagine my father's surprise on seeing his son apparently vomiting litres of pus. So I was brought to hospital, and in the absence of anything really being wrong with me, was sent home with a very stressed father in tow. I never did tell my parents about those pringles.
(Sir Tomalot: Don't look at my profile, you'll go blind, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 17:42, Reply)

Another one
Mate's Halloween fancy dress party. Meet at 3 on Saturday afternoon in local, dressed as Hitler. Pile into drinks till about 9 then back to his. one of the lads knocks over 2 trays of vodka jellys which i salvaged by hoovering off the tray with my mouth. This thinks the host is a cue for the yard of ale! Except only cheap warm cider left! I still hold the record for vomiting a yard of cider back into the glass with no spillage.
(Adaminho, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 17:42, Reply)

Pink vomit...
Once upon a time, I went to a Xmas party and in a very short space of time, consumed a very large amount of cheap, nasty red wine.

All was well, until I decided to leave the party - I made it as far as the tube platform at kings cross, before spewing. Fortunately it was mostly liquid, so I wondered a little further down the platform and pretended it was nothing to do with me. Until I vomited again. Now this is where it get's hazy.. the next thing I remember is being on a train leaving euston (fortunately heading home) and being violently sick twice more, To this day, I still don't know what happend, but I appeared home about 3 in the morning ( I left the party at 11) pretty much covered from head to toe in thick, lurid pink sick.
( Docdead likes pork., Fri 20 Aug 2004, 17:40, Reply)

Nazi tummy
A few years ago when I was still living in my parents loft room, I was awoken violently at about 4am and was sick over myself in bed and had to dash to the loo to finish being be very sick in the en-suite toilet. I felt like death but managed to go back to sleep.

Then around 9am, after calling in ill to work with food poisoning I realised I needed to run to the loo again to be sick, I was naked as I'd taken off my sick covered boxers. As i was heaving into the loo, the strain on my gut caused me to follow through with what can only be described as anal gravy, all over the bathroom floor behind me.

Realising that I couldn't stop my squits firing out I had to make a quick turn to sit on the loo I just been sick into. The stench of the shit made me throw up even more and as I slipped in my crap to try and sit on the loo I tried to also reach for the basin near the toilet to be sick into a the same time, only it was just out of reach.

I then spent the next 10 minutes alternating between throwing up over my knees and sink and shitting into/around the loo as I tried to time the exits from both holes.
(fatcatpat, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 17:26, Reply)

Never touch gold bacardi...
One time as a student, we went out on the piss for someone's 21st. Started off with wine with our chinese, all very civilised. Then off to a 50p a drink night, all putting a fiver in to start with. This story comes from someone who gets mortalled on three drinks. We decide to go to a disco, Panama Jax for those who remember it, and are refused entry for being drunk. The only married couple of the group decide to invite everyone back to theirs as they have a bottle of Gold Bacardi from their recent holiday abroad. I was given a measure roughly of half a pint of bacardi to a dash of coke... all of a sudden I need to be sick but can't think where I am or where the toilet is.
I go towards where I think my toilet is at home, except I'm not home and in my disgust at not finding it think "fook this" and was violently sick all down myself and the hosts bonny rug.
I woke up in the morning, having been stripped washed and put into a clean t shirt lying next to a guy I never saw before in my life ( hosts brother )
So...ticket to hull for gold bacardi - it is the devil's urine.
(Serendipity Long time, No see., Fri 20 Aug 2004, 17:18, Reply)

oooh ooh 'nother one...
I was staying with a mate of mine who was living in halls at Christ Church college Oxford. We had an extremely toxic evening in the room of a friend of my friend and eventually decided to saunter back to the other side of college to my mates room. We had to make it out of the room along a corridor down a massive 4 storey spiral staircase, across a couple of quads and into the safe confines of my mate's room... for some reason without anyone spotting us (can't remember why that was)

The process of getting up and walking along the first corridor sent in motion the contents of my stomach which were expelled over the ornate ballustrade at the top of aforementioned spiral staircase down four flights.

The resulting impact with the floor sent goo all over the hallway of these particular halls...

I was also sick on the lawns of both quads and a couple of other olde steps we had to negotiate on the way back to Blue Boar.

Incidentally that night on the heated floor of my mates room was without question the best night's sleep I have ever had on a floor...
(Pearly Pearl, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 17:06, Reply)

Not everyone from the West Country drinks Cider...
...cos' nearly all of us got silaged on it when we were ickle and learnt the error of our ways. Some of us are never sick through booze at all (*pushes out chest*) But there are still a few who do, like my mate Pie.

We call him Pie, cos frankly, he ate them all. And being a big lad, he can hold a lot of volume. Precious little alcohol, mind, but a lot of volume.

Pie, over the years, has given us a lot of chunder stories to variously delight, appall or just plain scare us. Who can forget the time he vommed green sambuca all down his front on a busy DLR train whilst showing us how to do air guitar to Pink Floyd? Or the scientific demonstration of Bounty kitchen roll's absorbancy, compared to other inferior brands, through the medium of bile?

But the best one EVAH is the story of the Dirty Snowman. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.

Young Mr Pie is at a Christmas eve party at a friends. Being a big ol' muso, he's on the decks thrilling us with the crispest cuts and phattest beats. (Well Bachmann Turner Overdrive, to be exact, but top marks for effort.)

So deep in his art is he that the drinks are fair sliding down his throat - cider, beer, wine and that strange green shit that always turns up at parties, but that no-one will own up to having brought. You know the stuff.

Eventually, tho, it's El Pie that is sliding... down the walls, nearly taking the decks and some speakers with him. Oh, and the people trying to hold him up as well. It was a fast, furious and almost fatal collapse. Think the World Trade Centre wearing an REM tshirt and you'll get the idea.

Now, being the kind, considerate RESPONSIBLE friends that we are, we chuck him outside to cool off, mainline water into him and promptly piss off back inside to continue getting ratted. Until of course we get bored.

Now, at this point, Pie is sitting on a chair, outside, in the middle of winter, and it's snowing. So we put a hat on him. With a bobble.

He looked quite cute.

So we put a scarf on him as well. By this point, he looked very festive as well as cute. At this point, someone said that he'd look like a snowman if he was wearing white. Being the ingenious (and thoroughly unoriginal) people that we are, the solution was right at hand - bog roll.

Quick as a flash, he's wrapped up like a fetish buddha, with a jaunty Andrex bow at his neck.

On reflection tho, putting the cigarette in his mouth was a mistake.

You know how on a clear day, sometimes you can hear thunder a way off, and you think "it'll miss us, no need to do anything sensible like take a coat out. We'll be fine." at which point you get absolutely fecking drenched?

Well, we heard thunder coming from Snowman Pie. We did not heed the warning.

We saw his bobble shake, his head dip, the neck bulge, the torrent of booze flow from his nose, explode from his mouth and frankly fountain from his nose. Everywhere. Down his shirt, onto his shoes, I swear UP under his glasses and collect in the turnups of his jeans.

Unfortunately there were several revellers around him who got caught in the splashback - happily yours truly was behind a window and thus protected.

Apart from the sight of the vom causing his carefully crafted bow to wilt, droop, soak up chunder and finally, like an aged cock, dangle sadly down.

So we all left him and went back indoors to carry on drinking.

Thank'ee.
( Grouch would quite like his clients to stop being numptys, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 17:04, Reply)

And another one!
This one time when I was at Aston Uni in Birmingham we had this dead cushy and well paid job working for a market research company which chiefly consisted of knocking on peoples doors and asking questions about their education to establish a "baseline for NVQ standards" or some such management arse flannel....

.... and of course the EXTREMELY pretentious upper class idiots that ran the market research company (which was based on Aston Science Park, near the Black Horse pub: You Know Who You Are) utterly failed to take into account that once out of sight of anyone involved in management the average student would proceed to invent the answers to the questionaires then retire to the nearest hostlery for 9 hours uninterupted drinking....

ANYWAY - where was I? - oh yes - the job was taking place in Manchester and so we would all drive up from Brum on the Saturday morning nice and early to get a full days "work" in, and this one time I went out the night before and got arse-clenchingly shit faced: you know the type.... the only way I could face getting the bus into town in the morning to get the lift to Manc was by running a bath to the hottest temperature I could take and then lying in it with only my nose out of the water for about an hour groaning in utter agony......

And then when I get to the office to get the lift up there the only person left with space in their car is the really obnoxious posh twat whose car is a brand new Nova brought for him by Mater and Pater - and as you can guess I cannot stand the sight of the spoiled little oik.

So: we are bombing up the M6 and I feel the urge to vom welling up deep within (and ain't morning after vomits the worst?) and I just manage to wind the window down before yakking toxic green acidic stomach sludge down the wing of the car....

.. at which point mommy's boy slams on the anchors and leaps out and proceeds to dab ineffectually at the steaming mess, ranting "ooooh! my paintwork!! mummy will be SO upset!"

It was SO worth it - the image of this distressed snob mopping up "Alien blood" strength stomach contents with a flimsy little napkin put a smile on my face despite a hangover the size of Nebraska!
(chairman_of_the_peoples_democratic_republic_of_birmingham, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 16:47, Reply)

Teenage drunkeness gone awry
16+free house( large b+b off season )+large drink cabinet= Vomit. Got extremley drunk early doors on martini and vodka. Off to local teen disco for coke bottle full of vodka. Stagger home round 3 with the intention of making "tea for everyone!" proceed to make 16 cups of tea whilst lads crack open bottle of brandy. Running out of glasses one of the lads gives me mug of Brandy which I then confuse with tea. Cue 15 cups of tea with Milk + 2 sugars and one brandy with same. Passed out the lads try and revive me by beating the snot out of me resulting in 2 broken ribs and a bout four pairs of jeans covered in the vomit equivilant of quick drying cement. Sorry for lenght but the day after felt a lot longer
(Adaminho, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 16:36, Reply)

Recent Puke - The Spitfire Vomit
I was at the Spitfire Proms a few weeks ago.
A very civilised affair. Picnic outside a stately home with a spitfire flying over then The Royal Philharmonic playing all the classic favourites.

As it was a civilised affair we all took our young ladies and had a very pleasant picnic. About 10 old people set up their deckchairs behind us and were obviously having a very jolly time.

I took gin and tonic as I didint want to get slaughtered. Unfortunately I accidently got steaming drunk. My firt measure of Gin was 3/4 gin. I remember the fisrt half of the concert . It really was fantatsic and I highly recommend it.
Can't remember anything else after that.
My missus says that she realised I was pissed when she took me up to dance to the band that were on between halves. Apparently "it was like dancing with a toddler at a wedding".

Then I sat down and went floppy and was singing 'Hitler has only got one ball' to colonel bogey at the top of my voice. She was telling me to be quiet because of the pensioners and I was saying " no they love it - they hate Hitler too."

Then came my finale. During Rule Britannia when everyone else is stood up I was heaving.
Rule Britannia - phworoyurrrkkrkrkkkgg
Britannia rules the waves..
yurrrghhhjjkkkss

Wish I remembered it because it sounds bloody funny.
(MDH, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 16:34, Reply)

In my days as a lowly student, thinking that my drinking ability
was of a level worthy of respect (oh how little I knew) two friends and I decided to have a tequila evening, while playing a board game. The idea was that each time it was your turn, you would take a shot of tequila complete with salt and lemon. After around 20 minutes we'd consumed the first bottle and thought "This game's great!". We purchased another and continued in the same manner as the first. Repeat this one more time and bingo. A bottle of tequila each. - Not all that impressive considering the magnitude of my drinking ability these days, but at the time we were all suitably impressed.

After staggering to my girlie's flat, I spent thirty minutes vomiting the contents of my stomach into my girlfriend's toilet, and a further five hours dry heaving. - The contents of my stomach having long departed, but the alcohol in my blood still having its evil effect. Eventually I passed out in a snotty puddle and woke up the following day.

All was well until I felt a gradual ache beginning to make its presence felt in my testicles. This ache gradually began to increase in strength throughout the day until hours later I was doubled up on the floor clutching my plums sobbing like a baby. It felt like someone had my nuts in a vice and was gradually tightening it. I was convinced that I had testicular cancer.

You would think that this would've put me off drinking tequila, but no. Since then I've drunk similar amounts of it on a number of occasions and suffered exactly the same effects.

Live and don't learn. That's me.
(Highlander, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 16:31, Reply)

House Warming
Let's go back 6 yrs, I was eighteen and my friend parents house warming.
Well actually the parents weren't there so it was just me and 4 mates.
We all got drunk but my mate Jacko took the buscuit. He got F***ED metaphorically and literally by Mark's (whose house it was) sister who turned up later. This pissed Mark off somewhat as it was his sister in his parents bed and he walked in on them.
Later in the night the sister diecided she wanted to be "alone" so she kicked Jacko out of the bedroom to sleep in the lounge with us boys. He was a bit worse for wear now and ended up shivering on the floor in the foetal position after having ejected his stomach into the kitchen sink and blocking it up with chuncky pizza.
Mark went a bit nuts when this happened and started kicking the shit out of a shivering, crying Cacko screaming, "CLEAN IT UP!! CLEAN IT UP YOU DIRTY BASTARD!!" This led to jacko trying to clean the sink out with his hands while vomiting all the time at the stench.
I think that might have ruined his night.
(I've done it so many times it's boring now..., Fri 20 Aug 2004, 16:26, Reply)

Drug madness.
Last year I had taken some magic mushrooms and part-way through my trip was overcome by the urge to throw them back up. However, as well as vomit, my mouth also managed to expell a number of flying red and blue pixels.

Well, that was my strangest puking session.
(Iain C, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 16:26, Reply)

Best one. In a night club in norway drunk.
My mate has a bit too much to drink. Starts running to the bog with his had over his mouth with a bit of puke squirting through his fingers.

He kicks the first cubical open and chucks up all over a guy that was having a shit.

The guy was build like a brick shit house. And my mate thinks that when he gets up he going to kick his arse. So he punches the dude having a shit in the face, spliting his nose and runs out of the night club.

Leaving the guy with half a turd hanging out his arse coved in meaty sick and with fucked up nose.
(waxdart hello., Fri 20 Aug 2004, 16:24, Reply)

Panning for gold
My old flatmate vomited into one of those oversized spirit bottles, that he was using to collect change in his bedroom. The sight of him washing hundreds of coins in a basin the next day was something to behold, and we likened it to 'panning for gold'. He also drunkenly covered up patches of newly laid vomit with Led Zeppelin LPs, presumably in the belief that if you can't see them, they don't exist. He couldn't, and still can't, explain what he must have been thinking that night.
(Bimdian, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 16:24, Reply)

Scuba
Was on holiday recently and had a day scuba diving. The instructor told us a story about two lads...

The night before they had been out and drunk rather a lot. But that morning they got on all their scuba kit - wet suit, air tanks, rebreathers, etc, and were happily swimming around under water, admiring all the fishes. Then one started to feel a bit ill and turned a bit green and he vomited under water through his rebreather and ended up swimming through a cloud of his own vomit - when his mate saw what happened he promptly threw up too. The plus side is that all the all the fish rushed up to them to eat their vomit for lunch so they got a nice close up view.
(Fi, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 16:22, Reply)

This was illness
I hate getting ill, I don't reall mind puking from alcohol, but flu puking is different as you really feel no better afterwards. This must be the worst one actually. I was 13, had flu or similar shitty illness. I woke up in the middle of the night with the shits, ran to the toilet and released the flow (half liquid, half bubbles) which I released a tad too early and sprayed the back of the toilet, then realised I was going to puke as well. There was literally nothing within reach to chuck into so I just leant forward and spewed onto myself, my shorts, the floor, basically fucking everywhere except in the toilet. I then sat leant forward dry heaving non stop for 5 minutes which woke my mum up. She comes in to see me sat naked on a pebble dashed toilet, puke all over me, I'm red faced, crying with the effort of the dry heaving.. That must rank as one of the worst moments of my formative years. Fucking illnesses.
(he who walks, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 16:21, Reply)

Drunk Driving
When I was 21, I drove home from a party 10 miles from my house. I was dropping off at the wheel, usually opening my eyes just in time to veer away from the ditch. I approached a hill not far from my house - I was driving a French reg. mini in Ireland - when I realised I was going to get sick. Instead of stopping the car I simply opened the driver's door and attempted to hurls my chunks roadside as I continued up the hill. Needless to say when I woke up the next day my poor mini was covered inside. I learned a lesson and have only drunk and driven 5 times since then (10 years ago).
(sativan, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 16:20, Reply)

Leeds.
I'm not saying I only threw up once at this years Glastonbury, but only once where I really had no control of the matter. I entirely blame a grinning man who assured me it would be fun.

It was very late on the Sunday night, the culmination of 5 days of rather extravagant, if somewhat ill advised, alco-narco-mungbean consumption

The plan for the day had included “LEEDS”, a rather heady cocktail of 2 e’s and some lsd. To be fair I think I may have over done it a bit but then again, who hadn’t by this point.

With an air of familiarity my stomach was telling me it was time to take the obligatory “pill shit”. You know the one, the europhic rush of MDMA coursing trough your bowels and no viable option but to evacuate immediately. So off I trotted to find a habitable cubicle. No mean feat considering the time and location of my predicament.

By the time I reached the toilets I wasn’t in the position to wait and the first one to open would have to suffice. I didn’t think it was that bad in there and made myself comfortable to drop the kids off. Then I breathed.

The putrescent stench of crusties turds, beer boys piss and hippies hit the back of my throat. Immediately my gag reflex took over, forcing my eyes to water, my tongue to swell and my stomach into some unearthly contraction, expelling a loose stool of biblical proportions from my rear. This was too much for my poor body to take and a vile narco-plasm forced itself, arching, from my mouth splattering the cubical door. The magnitude of this spasm threw my feeble body forward, arms outstretched into the outward swinging door – which, in my confused state, I had neglected to lock– much to the disgust / amusement of the waiting crowd who got to witness a brief glimpse of me wearing a trilby while dribbling noxious fluids from both ends.

I would like to take this opportunity to apologise to those in the queue and particularly the next occupant of the cubicle who had the misfortune to bear witness to this sorry sorry incident
(lordfredatron lordfredatron, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 16:19, Reply)

School Canteen
I must have been about 4 or 5 years old. We were being fed hot dogs and that bloody peas/carrots/sweetcorn mix they used to do at infant school. Anyway, the tables were set out 10 kids to each, 5 on each side.

(Un)Luckily, I was right in the middle and all of a sudden - even surprising myself as I felt fine - I erupted. All over 9 other kids and their dinners.

It was a mess but I was secretly dead proud with myself. Left that school shortly afterwards.

First post from me, I was a member on the old board and have been lurking for the past 2 years before signing up again. What a good ice-breaker this is eh?
(schnarfle, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 16:17, Reply)

Blue Puke and Nasty Glenfiddich
Two incidents to report:
1. Spent my 19th birthday getting caned on blue bols and vodka. All I had eaten all night was a packet of tortilla chips. When I hurled the result was something similar to bright blue Ready Brek which stained my shoes for ever more

2. Spent an evening with a mate downing a bottle of Glenfiddich. I woke up at about 4am and was sick on the carpet next to my bed. I didn't have the capacity to clear it up until the following evening. To the day I left that house my bedroom smelt of a combination of single malt, stomach juices and shake'n'vac. It wasn't long before I no longer slept in that room.....
(Pearly Pearl, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 16:17, Reply)