Whip out your barf bags and buckle up, drunkards. It’s Puke Week!

I had no idea what I was in for when I asked you all to submit your worst vomit stories. I couldn’t believe the reaction from The Churning Loyalists. So many disgusting puke stories and just one week to post them… Where do we start? How about with a story involving heavy drinking, drugs, and complete embarrassment?

This one’s by Cinders from Adventures in Blah Blah Land. Enjoy:

One time about two years ago a group of us went to the bar after work. This is when I was speeding, so I hadn’t ate. Anything. At all. The entire day. So I’m at the bar with a bunch of coworkers (including one that I have a major crush on), imbibing on some Slow Comfortable Screws, doing Jagerbombs in between, when it is suggest that we go back to Crushboy & his roommate (Kevvy Kev)’s apartment to relax with a natural herbal remedy.So we did, and I smoked and all of a sudden, I felt dizzy. I ran to the bathroom but didn’t feel puky, so I just laid down on the floor to rest, then all of a sudden all the liquid in me spilled out. Everywhere. On the floor, in my hair, all over my shirt. I passed out in it for a few minutes until Crushboy knocked on the door and asked if I was okay.

I stumbled to my knees, thought I did it an excellent job cleaning it all up with toilet paper, opened up the door and ran outside (middle of winter, no shoes) so he couldn’t see me covered in puke. Finally he came out looking for me, got my shoes and drove me home, where I promptly passed out in the hallway outside of my apartment, still covered in puke, only to be found by my neighbors.

Postscript: I had to throw that sweater away even though there was only a slight stain, wearing it reminded me of that evening and I’d get embarrassed all over again. I can’t even live it down because Kevvy Kev is SO entertained by it that he still to this day tells any new hires about it. Every time I’m at their apartment drinking and I go to the bathroom, Kev’s all “hey, you’re not throwing up, are you?” And I guess I didn’t do that good of a job cleaning it up, because Crushboy had to clean up after me the next day. Apparently he didn’t mind. Aw, maybe he does love me after all.