Waaaay off-topic: share your most memorable vomiting experiences

Hawg73

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Those of you that can't handle indelicate topics please read no further - it's not my intent to gross anybody out. No complaining - you've been warned.

One thing I have noticed from time to time is that there is nothing funnier than a good round of puke stories. I once considered trying to write a book which would be a collection of first person accounts of people's worst experiences with the dreaded technicolor yawn. In doing a little preliminary research I heard some really incredible stories, but never got around to trying to actually write it. The title? Blowing Chunks seemed to have a nice ring to it.

Anyway I am looking for people to share that special moment in your lives when you or somebody you know lost control in an embarrasing or interesting way in a public or private setting and the circumstances of that event. I will try and get the ball rolling with a story that happened to a young lady at my cousin's (note: not DropKick) bachelor party that I had the pleasure of attending.

The party was held at a Chinese restaraunt on Boston's South Shore and we retired to a private function room to celebrate his impending nuptials with a mixed crowd of relatives and his hardcore drinking buddies and fringe lunatics. We scarfed down an extremely mediocre Chinese buffet and awaited the arrival of the "talent" who would be performing a dance routine for us.

The young ladies finally arrived and informed us that their manager couldn't make it, they had forgotten their boom-box and were hungry to boot and asked if they could eat before the show. We had no problem with that and the semi-attractive duo went to work on the leftovers.

They finished and began their dance routine in front of a room filled with drunks in dead silence. It was actually kind of sad and we were all a little uncomfortable at the sight. You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife.

Finally somebody realized that we needed music of some sort or it was going to be a disaster. "Somebody start singing" was heard from the back the room and my cousin's buddies started an accapella chorus of "Feelings". Things were going downhill fast.

They got worse when after a short and awkward dance number the skinny brunette began to clutch her stomach and requested that: "somebody find a bucket fast!"

We searched frantically for a bucket and failed while her friend tried to hold her up. Fortunately somebody remembered that we had given the groom-to-be a cake and he yelled: "What about the cake box?" The cake box was seperated from the cake and offered to the young lady who proceeded to decorate it in a very loud manner.

It was all we could do to turn away from this bizarre spectacle and try not to gawk. Her chunky redheaded friend finally sheparded her into a small cloakroom and we figured that was all she wrote.

Imagine our surprise when a few moments later she emerged from the closet and undaunted continued on with the show. The best one-liner was DropKick's "She's the Uta Pipping of stripping!" (Boston marathon reference). A real trooper that one.

Of course, the show dissolved in a blaze of glory when a fight broke out between two guests and the Girls panicked and grabbed their clothes and ran -barely dressed -thru the crowded main dining room filled with surprised families choking on their pu-pu platters.

Somehow that story stands out to me even if I wasn't the victim. What a show.

How 'bout you? Anyone have one to share?

Remember it's a long offseason.
 

freak

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When: September 2002, Friday night
Where: Gables Apt at UNH
Time: I don't know......

What:

One thing to know about me.....if I say I'm gonna get bombed, I probably won't. It is when I don't plan on drinking that it can get interesting.

It is around 9-10 pm or so, although I'm not really sure. I'm messing around online and watching some sports most likely. I decide to make a Jack & coke. Now, I mix my drinks strong. Cape Codders, Jack & Coke, etc......usually about 50/50.

So I make my drink in a 16oz party cup, and everything is peachy. I finish the first, and then make another one. This is now half a bottle of Jack, which I had bought that afternoon.

I go into the kitchen to preheat the oven to make a frozen pizza, and 4 of my 5 roomies are playing Beruit.

I get caught up watching them play, and down the rest of my J&C pretty quick. They my other roomate, who I've known for years, gets back. The other 4 want us to play them, and we're all for it.

BUT my buddy doesn't drink beeah; calls it p*ss water. So we decide to play with Captain 'n Coke. These are in the party cups, mind you, and the ratio was greatly skewed in the good Capn's favor.

To make a long story short, we allegedly played for over an hour, and I remember taking two drinks. :eek:

Much of what happened afterwards, I haven't a clue. I do remember flopping on my bed, telling myself to remember to set my alarm, and then not doing so. :zzz:

I also had a dream that night that I was vomiting. It seemed pretty d@mn real to me......almost painful. Ah well......

So I wake up the next am to my phone at 8:30. It is my buddy over at his girlfriend's, making sure I was up, as I had to be at the football field at 9am. I stagger my way through a shower, get dressed, and then manage to ride my bike over to the field. Three lovely hours in the 90 degree sun later, we get off for lunch, and I head back to my apartment.

I go into my room, and find a trash bag on the floor next to my bed.

Let's just say that my dream seemed pretty real for a reason. :Eason:

BTW......turns out that my buddy and I downed the entire bottle of Captains. :fire:
 

pookie

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My story is somewhat similar to Hawg's.

I believe it was around the '90 or '91 time frame. Our buddy Rusty was getting married in a couple of weeks (Of course his name was Michael, but if you lived in our little slice of S.E. Mass and had red hair, you were either called Red or Rusty).

Rusty's bachelor party was going great! We had the entire downstairs of the Attleboro Elks rented out. We had a big table of sammiches, munchies and other goodies and a cash bar, tended by my father in law. To say we got drunk is not necessary and would be a major understatement.

The entertainment showed up around 9, I guess. She looked kinda funny in her police outfit and what appeared to be very short hair. Unlike Hawg's girl, our stripper did not forget her music and got started right away. Once her police cap came off, her jet black hair went 3/4 of the way down her back. Without going into too much gory detail, this dancer was smoking hot and also took many liberties with her own intimate areas, if you know what I mean.

All the guys were hootin' and hollerin' and having a grand old time. A couple of the "not so nice fellas" took Rusty and the girl in the back room to partake in something. I don't know what it was but somebody mentioned there may have been some drugs back there. I would never condone that type of activity, but this is what some of the guys said..... I really wouldn't know!

They came back looking loopier than ever and the dancing continued. We made Rusty get out in the middle of the floor for is final bachelor dance. She worked him over good, then made him lay on his back on the floor. She then made Rusty's head disappear, if you catch my drift. After about 20 seconds of gyrating happily, she screamed out, jumped up and made the mistake of putting her hands down there. What she drew back was Rusty's dinner. He buttered her buns and entire private region w/ hurl which now covered his whole head! The scene resembled some kind of low budget horror film that made everybody completely uneasy and nauseous.

Rusty spent the rest of the night with half his body in the large plastic trash can. We had to clean up his mess on the floor, the hot babe (now disgustingly stinky) left and all we could do was drink more while we checked on Rusty from time to time to be sure he wasn't aspirating. The nerve of some people..... vomiting on a perfectly good stripper's private parts! :harumph: :harumph:
 

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I don't have a good vomit story, but i contend that that fraction of a second *immediately* after you finish vomiting - i'm talking still hunched over the bowl with saliva stretching into the bowl, that very instant that your stomach muscles begin to relax from that vice like contraction - is at least the second best feeling in the world. yes, only a fraction of second later you feel like complete and utter ass again, but for that half a second...paradise in the sand.

and while i've never thrown up on a stripper, i have lit one on fire. (by accident) :fire:
 

Steve1

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Vomit at Foxboro Stadium

Sounds like the title of a campy science fiction thriller, now don't it? So here goes-I was attending a Patriots game with a buddy around, say, 1981 or 2. Sitting pretty far up, on the nice metal benches. Well, the guy to my left was really lit up. And it was cold, so he wore a nice handy pullover hat. He was inebriated to the point of practically passing out. And then-the upchuck, or should I say, downchuck. The poor, stinky drunken fool. Been there, done that (but not at a Pat's game). Luckily, the wind was not blowing in my direction, and he didn't puke on me at all. This was not my buddy, just some dude on my left, with his friend. Well, I didn't tell you, but the dude pucked right on top of his pullover hat! Nice, big red and orange chunks. Well, you asked! It is a story to behold. So the game ends, the totally passed out dude wakes up by his buddy. He gets up, and I say (drum roll, please, orchestra) "Don't forget your hat"(with the vomit onit, sitting, now frozen on the nice concrete). And, by the way, I don't remember who the Pats played, so that tells you something about MY condition!
 

naclone

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yeah, my girlfriend got vomited on at Foxboro. It was the St. Louis game in November of 2001 (i believe we won the super bowl that year) and we were waaay late and the lines to get patted down were horrendous and while we were waiting our turn a rubber legged young lad in line in fron of us, without even bending over, begins ejecting about a half dozen coors lights and few shots of wild turkey. my girlfriend tried to spin out of the way but her long hair got whipped into the stream.

Luckily my dad is the kind of guy that keeps 4 pounds of napkins in his coat pocket. so we were able to mop her down a good bit. but let it be known, it was not her favorite football experience. i assured her that some day when we lived in boston she'd be able to say that she was thrown up on at Foxboro Stadium and it would go a long way, but that hasn't seemed to provide her much comfort.
 

pookie

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Re: Vomit at Foxboro Stadium

Steve1 said:
Sounds like the title of a campy science fiction thriller, now don't it? So here goes-I was attending a Patriots game with a buddy around, say, 1981 or 2. Sitting pretty far up, on the nice metal benches. Well, the guy to my left was really lit up. And it was cold, so he wore a nice handy pullover hat. He was inebriated to the point of practically passing out. And then-the upchuck, or should I say, downchuck. The poor, stinky drunken fool. Been there, done that (but not at a Pat's game). Luckily, the wind was not blowing in my direction, and he didn't puke on me at all. This was not my buddy, just some dude on my left, with his friend. Well, I didn't tell you, but the dude pucked right on top of his pullover hat! Nice, big red and orange chunks. Well, you asked! It is a story to behold. So the game ends, the totally passed out dude wakes up by his buddy. He gets up, and I say (drum roll, please, orchestra) "Don't forget your hat"(with the vomit onit, sitting, now frozen on the nice concrete). And, by the way, I don't remember who the Pats played, so that tells you something about MY condition!

Steve, that is wonderfully disgusting!!!
 

bideau

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All right, I'll go for this one.

Last December at Gillette vs. Jets on Sunday night. I woke up that morning with one of those "I'm fighting something off" feelings. Undeterred, I went about my usual meal and bar prep, picked up my neighbor and got to the stadium at 4 PM.

I had made my customary pot of hot chili and my neighbor brought hot sausages. We had a well stocked bar of Capt. Morgan, Margaritas and several variety of beers. After three hours of tailgating, we hopped on in, I got treated to a couple more brews and we just had a good time.

I remember the 1st half very clearly. That's about the last thing I remember. The next thing I recall is my neighbor poking me telling me it's time to go. Totally confused, I asked if the game was over. It was early in the 4th quarter. "Why are we leaving", I asked. "Take a look at yourself" was the reply. My shirt, pants and shoes were covered with vomit. The young boy sitting next to me was giving me a horrified look. My neighbor helped me out to the car. I handed him my keys and we went home.

The next day, I was in bed most of the day with a fever and hangover. I was getting the double effects of the flu and too much hot food and liqour.

The following Sunday, I sheepishly went to my seat and just tried to avoid eye contact with anyone. The guy who sits behind me showed up and dropped a rain poncho on my lap and we all had a great laugh over it.
 

Peg

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Well, Sweetie... :)

Originally posted by bideau

...and we all had a great laugh over it.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

...Been there, done that... Good for you, to be able to admit to that here... You are a great fan, Bideau, and sometimes things just happen out there... Rock on, my fellow fan, Rock on!!... :)
 
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Hawg73

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Very interesting. I'm not sure exactly where you were going with that, but it was a pretty amusing read.

It is nice to know that PatriotsPlanet can be a positive force in the lives of young people.
 

pookie

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Re: This just in from an anonymous poster

FallingAlice said:

Formerly a 5-7" natural blonde co-ed at Wheaton college studying fashion merchandising, I have breasts that are amazingly perky (despite being an E cup).

Very interesting..... I've never seen E cup and perky in the same sentence before!
 
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Re: This just in from an anonymous poster

FallingAlice said:
So, I strapped on my thong, dusted off my Hooters t-shirt and slipped into my trademark 4.5" stilleto pumps and headed over to the men's bathroom at Foxboro right between sections A151-200 and B-1.

OH MY GAWWWD. As soon as I got in that men's room, I knew it wasn't going to be just any old party. There were all these gray-haired, drooling, incontinent, semi-coherent Pats fans with barfed-up chili, potato skins and captain Morgan streaming down their faces. I found one guy who was relatively clean, jumped on top and started my usual bump and grind right on his lap.



ROFL Alice, I'm glad you posted that letter from the stripper's perspective. Of all the stripper-vomit stories that I have been privy to this one really stands out. I was starting to suspect that perhaps this was another of those "Penthouse Letters" stripper-vomit threads. I'm relieved to find out that I can still believe everything I hear.
 

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This thread is incredibly disappointing without graphics.

 

Ballbustah

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OK.....

Circa 1979 Frankfurt Germany.
I was in the Army. It was a friday night. Our room was partying as usual. For some unknown reason I passed on the fine German beer that evening to partake in cheap wine. Our room, that slept 4 soldiers, was on the 1st floor with a window facing the exit doors of the local kasern movie theater. At some point of the evening I felt the urge to vomit. Since there was no bathroom close by I immeadiately went to the window leaned out and started heaving violently. As I was finishing up I looked up and saw an audience of about 20 horrified people who had stopped dead in their tracks exiting the movie theater. Very embarrassing.

Circa 1984
I was traveling in a car with 4 guys. We had been drinking and playing golf all afternoon. I was sitting in the back seat behind the driver.... Suddenly out of no where the guy sitting in the front passenger seat swivels his head completely around and pukes on the guy sitting next to me. I mean he really hosed the guy with puke. He had puke splattered on the inside of his glasses even. I immeadiatly upon looking at him puked all over myself. The car pulled to the side of the road... everyone got out and was either heaving or on the verge of heaving.
 

pookie

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Phobia said:
This thread is incredibly disappointing without graphics.


If you have a weak stomach, do not go to google.com and search for "vomit pictures". Yuk. This is mild.
 

dropKickMurphy

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For me, all it takes is to be on a boat with Hawg73 to force me to liquidate my assets.
Case #1:
Hawg73, myself, and our friends George and Frank were on a week end sailing trip in Penobscot Bay in Maine. This had to be about 25 years ago. George owned a 26' boat that we loaded up with beer, weed, Doritos, and camping gear. We sailed to an uninhabited island, set up camp, got a nice driftwood blaze going, and spent the evening drinking and lighting our farts on fire.
When we awoke the next day, the pounding of our heads was matched by the pounding of the surf on the island's rocky shore. A howling gale whipped the normally placid bay into a foaming frenzy. Lacking sufficient functional neurons between the 4 of us to make a cogent decision, we pushed off from the island and set course for Rockport. Before we got the sail fully raised, the wind caught us and nearly capsized our tiny craft. George decided to reef the sails (which met with a response of something along the lines of "hey, reef THIS") but the force of the wind was still threatening to snap the shrouds. As we inched our way out to the center of the bay, we started hitting the monster waves. Think "Cheech and Chong" meet "The Perfect Storm" and that'll give you a pretty accurate picture of our predicament.
The choice became to stay on deck with Captain George and get pummelled every 5 seconds with tons of frigid sea water, or escape to the tiny cabin and get tossed against the walls. After a while, I chose the cabin. Frank had been hiding out down there for a while, and the roiling was taking its toll on him. He suddenly grabbed the cooler which had previously carried our beer, and began filling it with a vile chowder. I immediately sprang from the cabin gasping for fresh air. Hawg and I alternated between the cockpit and the cabin, unable to decide between death by drowning or by puke stench. After taking several more snootfulls of salty Atlantic, I'd had enough and descended again into the cabin of horror. The cooler was, by now, overflowing. Several inches of seawater mixed with spew sloshed around the bilges in the cabin. Each time the boat crashed against a wave, the hull would become airborne, then slam back down against the surface of the water. The force would cause the chunks of chum to fly about the cabin. Needless to say, it wasn't long before I began to contibute my own foul mixture of semi-digested Doritos and Hickory Farms beef stick into the bilge chowder.
At last, we rounded the jetty into Rockport Harbor. As soon as we did, the wind stopped, the sky turned from lead to blue. Seriously, it was as if God just flipped a switch and turned the storm off. George easily maneuvered the Costa Plente into the dock, and we all disembarked and threw ourselves onto the warm grass. We fired up a bone and passed it around in the sunshine to commemorate our survival; in no time we were back in high spirits. The contents of the cooler were tossed into the harbor. In those days, the famous Andre the seal was resident in Rockport Harbor during the summer months. He probably had a feast fit for a king as he gourged on the treasures that we had tossed up....which no doubt included a sizable portion of my spleen. As we strolled along the dock, we came upon a huge ocean going yaught. The crisp starched whites worn by the husband and wife owners of the massive craft stood in stark contrast to our vomit encrusted jeans and tee shirts. We struck up a conversation with them, and found that they were in the midst of a circumnavigation of the planet. "But not today", the husband announced in his Thurston Howell voice. "We've been listening to the weather radio, and it's far too rough out there!" We pointed out the tiny sailboat which had just carried us from the island. He damn near gakked on his caviar.

Case #2
I'll save the "Tale of the Booze Cruise" for another post. Better yet, maybe Hawg can tell that one. He probably remembers it better than me.
 

pookie

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dropKickMurphy said:
For me, all it takes is to be on a boat with Hawg73 to force me to liquidate my assets.
Case #1:
Hawg73, myself, and our friends George and Frank were on a week end sailing trip in Penobscot Bay in Maine. This had to be about 25 years ago...............

Best story yet DKM!! Possibly better than the nasty Penthouse vomit Forum story posted by Alice. I can't wait to hear about the booze cruise. Maybe one day, I'll tell of my rescue mission into the women's rest room at a humid Memphis pool hall to swoop Mrs Pookie off of the vile floor and bring her to the cool safety of the concrete gutter....

:Eason: :Eason: :Eason:
 
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Hawg73

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dropKickMurphy said:

Case #2
I'll save the "Tale of the Booze Cruise" for another post. Better yet, maybe Hawg can tell that one. He probably remembers it better than me.

That was a fair recounting of our near death experience in Penobscot Bay. The thing that hangs with me is that I had my life flash in front of my eyes for about six hours.

I would also like to point out that I never got physically ill but was unhinged mentally from stark terror. I do remember bending down and kissing the ground in front of some lovely elderly women who were apparently on a bus tour that stopped at Rockport Harbor. I really did not care how it looked, I was damn glad to be on dry land again. That ocean can be some scary sh1t.

I also remembered how the Captain ordered me to attach the jib to the fore cleat so we could sail with just that, and I looked up at the foredeck which was totally awash in freezing black waves. I ummmmm..... objected strenuously and he insisted that if I didn't we would probably sink and die. Much profanity passed between us, and he ended up talking me into it. Not much choice.

I think I spent about 10 minutes in that vomitorium/cabin and that was more than enough for me.


The "booze cruise" happened when I had a great time on one in Boston Harbor with my work friends and decided to try it with dropkick, frank and my brother.

The swells in Boston Harbor were at least two or three inches that night and I have seen bumpier panes of glass, but Frank had a really weak stomach and he hurled over the rail violently while being observed with disgust by teams of teased-hair chippies from Southie and Medford. DropKick found this highly amusing and laughed uproariously at the misfortune of his close friend scant minutes before begging me to drag a trash barrel over to him so he could do likewise. I refused and made him stagger over to it himself. He made quite a spectacle of himself in the process.

His skin actually turned a pale shade of green. I had heard of such things, but never actually saw it until that night. Really.

My brother ralphed as well so it turned out 3 out of the 4 of us got sick. So much for booze cruises.

Just so I don't come off as immune to all of this, I did attend one a few years later with a different goup. It was supposed to be a mixed crowd, but on the appointed night, I was the only guy that showed with 8 girls, so I made myself scarce and tried to kill my embarassment with about 13 Black Russians.

At one point I tried to pick up a girl but was slurring my words badly and I got laughed off by the young lady. I fired off a snappy one-liner to try and sooth my wounded pride and spun around to make my big exit and my boots slipped on the wet deck and I landed flat on my ass in a puddle. She and her girlfriend wet themselves from laughing.

I capped off the night by walking right through a large gang fight and stopped at a sewer grate to purge myself of the nasty kahlua concoction which had earlier clouded my judgement.

As I bent at the waist to help improve my aim I saw both the contents of my stomach and my snazzy eyeglasses pass below the grate never to be seen again.

It was a very blurry drive home.
 
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Hawg73

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I just heard a classic courtesy of my brother in law.

He was out bar hopping with his best buddy and they had gotten themselves bulletproof and were well on their way to invisible, when their ride decided that they were unmanageable and split on them.

They then managed to track down a couple of young shapelies they knew slightly who had wheels (he was single then) and they sweet talked the girls into giving them a ride back to their apartment.

He was riding in the back seat on the driver's side of her Volkswagen bug when he felt his stomach start to churn. He begged the long, auburn, wavy-haired driver to pull over but she was afraid of attracting the potential DUI attention of the local law and refused.

He continued to plead his case until the monster got too strong and would not stay in it's cage. His viscous gorge escaped his shocked mouth like a mighty river overflowing it's banks and hit the back of her head with near whiplash-inducing velocity. His buddy said that you could see the outline of her head on the inside of the windshield. The sheer volume of the torrent was described as nauseating, but an awesome thing to witness.

The driver screamed bloody murder and accused him of doing it on purpose, but it was a complete accident. She put him out of the car and he ended up running throught the streets of Fall River in abject humiliation.

His buddy - being a sub-standard wing man - let him go on his own - amazingly drunk on a very cold night - to try and score with the auburn one who was now badly in need of getting hosed down, but it would have taken Superman to pull that off.

Some people.
 

Steve1

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Oh Oh

Ah, memories. Yes, I heaved in school once in the 9th grade. We had shepards pie for lunch. I remember this, even though it was about 30 years ago. But, just like yesterday. Now, shepards pie, school style, had the usual corn, mashed potatoes, meat, and grease. Well, the bell rings at the end of the day, and I head for my locker. Yes, we all remember those days, don't we? I suddenly feel real sick. No problem, as my mouth wells up with 2-hours old corn, mashed potatoes, meat, oil, and digestive acids, I now face the bubbler. Thank God. Only one problem! My best buddy is getting a drink. It is winter time, and he has his then-fashionable orange goose-down jacket. Great for the cold weather. Poor Dave. I tried to let him know what was going on, but I can only make some wierd, muffled noises. Very muffled. And, he was getting a drink, so he probably couldn't hear me. Well, the next thing you know, old puke is in the air (sang like, Well next thing you know, old Jed's a millionaire), and I puked right on and all over his jacket. Everything. and being 14, he tried to punch me, and he said what the hell are you doing, you stupid sob. All I could say is Sorry, but I tried to tell you. I needed to puke in the bubbler, and you wouldn't move.
 
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