JuicyA is a real trooper. She went above and beyond the Puke Week call proving her true dedication to The Churning. She submitted three stories, each one worse than the one before.

3. Know how there are sneeze guards? Luckily in Italy there are also puke guards. Well, sort of. After celebrating my 25th Bday in Florence and getting maybe 2 hours of sleep, I had to board a bus to Rome. A very rocky bus. For the first hour of the trip i was fine– likely still drunk is all– but then as we travelled along i started feeling greener and greener. When we stopped for lunch in Chianti [yes, the town famous for wine] I wasnt feeling so hot. I went up to a pizza counter to order a slice…and while bending over to see what kinds were in the deli case, I felt a little woozy…and it smelled so strong of pepperoni…and i really needed to….yeah. All over the front of the glass. I couldnt eat pizza for quite some time.

2. I used to know where to drink in Edmonton so that you could basically spend 4 hours drinking $1 drinks, it just started really early. What this would mean is that you would be piss ass wasted at 8 pm. One night I wanted to see how many Martinis i could drink in 4 hours, especially the blue ones– the answer was 12…and these were 3 oz. ones too. So its 830 at night. Its still light out…and Im standing on a corner of Whyte Ave in Edmonton so wasted that I have started to speak in a Scottish accent. And in between yelling at people that they are “full of shite” I am puking streams of blue liquor. I ended up at home by 9 pm from a guy who worked with my then -boyfriend and saw me while driving home and thought it better that i yell and scream about people being cunts and puking in my own home insead of looking like a crazed wino. When I woke up at 3 pm the next day, my room [especially my bed], was blue and sticky and I left myself a note reminding myself that i dont like blue martinis.

1. My sister’s wedding I am the maid of honour…or should i say dishonor. After drinking for 15 hours, throughout getting our hair done, photos, a reception and a dance, my sister decides to have the gift opening. I was now so drunk that i had tried starting fights with some of the groomsmen and threw a bottle at the mother of the groom [yeah, like that didnt cause some tension between the families...]. So while my sister is opening her toaster ovens, towels, and china sets, I am supposed to be writing down who bought her which gift. What i really was doing was trying to 1. Stop from passing out, 2. Not puke, and 3. of course, finish another glass of champagne. However, I was a little unsuccessful: I passed out at the head table…my mouth agape and with the pen still in my hand. Another bridesmaid came over to wake me up and I came to…looked right at her…and projectile vomited all over the floor, narrowly missing the train of my sister’s dress.

Yeah. All class here.