My Worst VomitWe all love a drink. Some of us love them so much they want to see them again on the way out of their mouths. I once got caught by surprise by the boozy sickness while chatting to some friends in my kitchen. Quick as a flash I grabbed a nearby pan and chundered away merrily in it. Realising it was probably time for bed I staggered off to my room. Unfortunately, my co-ordination failed just as I reached the landing and I somersaulted down the entire flight of stairs with my saucepan full of vomit. Beat that!
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chthonic, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:00)
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To the SideMany years ago, just after one Christmas, a mate of mine and I had tickets to see a band we were both jolly keen on by the name of Gallon Drunk.
As it was Crimple and we were fed up with sitting on our respective family sofa's drinking the swill our mums had bought for us, we thought we would honour this band by going out before the gig and getting Gallon Drunk.
So we rolled around the pubs and flesh pots of Soho drinking premium lager and even made the mistake of going into on of those pretend porn cinemas they have there.
(You don't get to see genitals and there are lots of scary men in raincoats that smell of guttering).
I digress, we finally got to the venue, the Garage, pissed as fools and spacked out on amal-nitrate and bloody Gallon Drunk, who liked to drink cough-syrup for breakfast, had cancelled.
Back down to Soho we went and bumped into some American girls on their way to the Wag Club so we followed them and very quickly scared them off with out heavy drinking, amal sniffing and strange cackling. It's all a bit of a throbby blur at this point, to be honest.
While in the club, I suffer from a terrible stomach cramp. I lumber about the top floor of the Wag Club trying to find a bog. Could I? So I stagger downstairs, remembering a lav by the entrance so I head toward it, hand over mouth, in the most direct way possible, through the dance floor.
Sadly, My guts are stronger than my grip and up comes a days worth of drink, chips and pitta but my hand blocks a full-frontal gush. Unfortunately, the torrent can not be totally averted and some puke jets out of the side of my mouth, squeezed into a fine jet by my hand and hits some unfortunate girl on the dance floor.
I carry on, hearing behind me a “’ear, that bloke just….” And reach the loo. I relax, release the vom and fell loads better and ready for more.
There was a bouncer waiting for me outside the loo. I have to hang on to the wall by my finger-tips shouting “Let me get my mate, alright, I’ll go but let me get my mate.” Until two of them drag me out.
They find mate and take him out too and we shuffle off home, a little sheepish.
(, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 10:19, Reply)
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