My friends and I would the start the eve with a few drinks and the head out onto the town. This particular night, I had a considerable amount of alcohol and it wasn't long before I became separated from my friends. I made my way to Cavill avenue ( the main drag with lots of nightclubs and underage drinkers outside ) where I found an interesting sight. The was one of those spinning machines like in the movie 'Lawnmower man' - but in this one you sat down and the guys turned this handle to spin you around...
Well, I was feeling no pain, so I jumped in and said 'hit it'... they did. For approximately 8 minutes. I was feeling ok - my stomache was not asking for a refund, until they stopped it. When I got out of the machine, I could not focus my eyes, and I certainly could not walk in anything representing a strainght line - then my stomache made it's presence known. I stumbled for the mandatory garden box and proceded to empty my stomache. I sat down to catch my balance - and recovered it about 2.5 hours later.
It was an interesting night...
I got my moniker from the after effects of a bottle of tawny port and a bottle of brown muscat, at a school excursion in 1976 to Canberra, while we were staying at A.N.U. A magnificent emetic. I bet the bloke/girl who's room it was enjoyed coming back to study! The other thing that sticks in my mind was how easy it was to get the stuff. Although 'Ol Muzza was 6 foot 8 and shaved 5 times an hour :-)
- Stephen Chalmers
I was commuting to the city on one of those beeaauuutiful blue trains we used to enjoy:post red rattler, pre silver bullet (ha) from glorious Oakleigh. I used to start work at about 8:30 (yecchh) so the time must have been about 8:00 am and the train was therefore somewhat chockers.
I got that wonderful cold sweats/shakes/numbness and realised how lucky we all were that the train wasn't express to Caulfield. We pulled in at Carnegie, and while I was waiting with my cheeks puffed out and my index finger pressed to my pursed lips nature took over. I cried RUTH, enjoyed my brekky backwards, had a technicolour yawn, whatever, RIGHT IN THE DOORWAY where, being the time of day and the location there were at least half a dozen cheerful VicRail clients eagerly awaiting the beginning of their joyous day.
I gracefully alighted and made my decorous way to the Ladies where I found that I'd luckily avoided splattering myself. I waited until the train had left, then walked out and caught the next train with no-one any the wiser. Wonder how many stations those other poor suckers lasted?
Here's one that happened while I was in college, quite some time ago:
A friend and I had been playing quarters, a game which involves drinking a large number of glasses of beer. While we were sitting around the kitchen table all that beer behaved itself pretty well, but after walking down five flights of stairs and out onto the street I began to feel queasy. As it happens we were crossing a major street at a traffic light, with many onlookers, when the beer decided to escape. I actually managed to vomit while walking across the street without breaking stride and without soiling anything - just face to the left and spew as I walked along. I was pretty proud of that.
- John in Columbus, Ohio, USA
I come from a long line of barfers. On long car trips, my family stopped as often to throwup as they would to pee. My Dad collected the little bags that the airlines provided, "Just in case." He used them to take his lunch to work because, "The food was going to end up in there anyway." My aunt tossed her cookies at her second wedding. These days we provide all brides in our family with something borrowed, something blue, and a hanky to wipe off her shoes.
Being a seafaring family hasn't helped us much. When my Dad was in the Navy, he learned that you never took the first seat in the head. Otherwise, you might end up wearing someone's technicolor yawn. Between myself, my father, and my grandfather we have fed the fishes in all seven oceans.
In the winter in New England everything freezes. Including a call my brother made to Ralph. Something in the school cafeteria food made its way back out on the playground a froze there until spring. Drinking is a good way to get a chance to re-chew your food. I had had a few too many in a crowded bar. the crowd was so thick I couldn't get out. When a man refused to move out of my way, I let him have it. While he looked at the mess on his shirt I scolded, "When I say move, you move!" My cousin had the cutest baby you ever saw. In an effort to get a chance to play with the baby I invited my cousin's family to dinner. My little second cousin showed that he was a real member of the family by spewing all over the dinningroom table.
When I became a father I learn all about bodily fluids that otherwise I would have never thought about. My daughter processed every bottle into a cheese like substance and sent it hurling across the room. The first thing I did was invite my cousin over for dinner. Payback is a bitch.
I'll never forget a few years ago at my cousins wedding at the time my sister was going out with this guy called Charles, but he liked to be called Chuck(???)
Well as the evening progressed and my glass of red wine was getting refilled by my well meaning younger brother, I became increasingly sicker. After the reception we went back to my cousins house where we all sat at the kitchen tabe. Suddenly I felt my guts start to rise. I turned to say something to Chuck and chuck I did. All over this poor guy still in his suit. Well serves him right to have a name such as Chuck
I had a bad one in a restaurant once. Luckily I made it to the restroom without doing the yawn, but once in there I must have puked out everything I had eaten for the last year. What's more, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't be quiet or discreet. I had the loudest wall-shaking hurl I had ever had. I finally got cleaned up and left the restaurant amid a sea of horrified diners.
This is the absolute worst vomiting story ever: I was a freshman in college and going out with this (neurotic) older man. For his graduation (? or some other special occasion) his THERAPIST took us to dinner at the country club. I stuffed myself on pasta marinara, I don't know what possessed me to eat the entire plate since I can never finish a whole serving of anything. So I filled up on that and then had dessert (lemon cream pie, if I remember correctly) on top of it. On the way back to my dorm I'm in the back of this woman's Cadillac with cloth interior and start feeling pretty bad. I roll down the window but of course it's one of these safety windows that only rolls down half-way and I start spewing up noodles onto the back of the driver's seat. They pull over (coincidentally, right in front of the fire station) and I continue to vomit all over the street, myself, and the car. I had never even MET the woman before. Needless to say, I never met her again. Five year later my face still gets very hot thinking about it.
- trena, Shreveport, Louisiana, USA
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