Left off passed out in Emily's (not my future wife, another one) bathroom, vomit everywhere, having not been contained by my shoe. At some point my brother moved me to the couch. Also, one of her roommates woke up at an ungodly hour of the morning to clean the bathroom so that I would feel like a total jerk when I finally woke up.
When I did, my bro and I went to City Docks for some coffee smoothies. We were both pretty pleased with ourselves. I could only wear one shoe of course, and held the puke-shoe in my hands outside while Charles bought the drinks. Then we started walking to Sterling's place. About halfway through our drinks, we both decided to pull the trigger a few times, to see if that would really push us over the edge back into 'feeling great' territory. It was a resounding success. Cold, beige vomit flew from our throats as we shoved our hands down our mouths, sweating, crying, shirts unbuttoned, one-shoe-ed, somewhere along one of those charming streets in downtown Annapolis.
Eventually we had emptied ourselves and made it to Sterling's. I may or may not have puked one more time there. I used his hose to get my shoe back into shape, and I'm proud to stay they're a reliable pair to this day.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Return to Form
I was recently belatedly made aware that my blog was mentioned in another blog and some very kind things were said about it. It happened here: http://spanielfortwo.blogspot.com/. Now I am newly re-aware of my responsibility to share all of my memories of the voms I have known.
Fan, friend, and likely latent emetophile Sterling once commented, "remember when you puked in your shoe at me and aldens apartment? back porch style". I remember something like that...
My brother and I had driven into Annapolis yet again to party with some of the gentle folk of his Alma Mater. We kicked it at the abode of a young lady and her friend, wherein I shotgunned a bunch of beer, and passed out on the couch. In the early hours of the AM I awoke, confused, sweaty and heavily nauseated. I had done myself a great disservice, having failed to properly reconnoiter my surroundings. All I had made myself familiar with were the living room and kitchen. While the kitchen-sink vom is a classic (see 'In the Hills of North Berkeley', among others), I didn't feel that I
A. knew and was well-enough liked by the people who lived here to do this or
B. was unknown and completely untraceable by the people who lived here to get away with it
The first rule of a smooth vom is to use what you have. This could mean puking down your shirt (see 'Berlin Metro'), puking into an empty glass (see 'Wedding Night Jitters?'), or even puking down your pants (I'm sure I've done this too). With a little quick thinking, I bolted upright, ripped my shoe off and starting blasting vomit down the foot-hole.
Unfortunately I only had one shoe on and had no idea where the other was. It was too dark to search. Temporary holding measures had been executed, the shoe was full, and now it was time to find a real receptacle. To the bathroom!
I leaped up from the couch to the bathroom, but it was locked so I just puked all over the door.
But it turns out that that was actually our host's bedroom door. Confused and disgruntled, she opened the door and re-directed my energies to the real bathroom. I messily vomited all over the room and passed out.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Fan, friend, and likely latent emetophile Sterling once commented, "remember when you puked in your shoe at me and aldens apartment? back porch style". I remember something like that...
My brother and I had driven into Annapolis yet again to party with some of the gentle folk of his Alma Mater. We kicked it at the abode of a young lady and her friend, wherein I shotgunned a bunch of beer, and passed out on the couch. In the early hours of the AM I awoke, confused, sweaty and heavily nauseated. I had done myself a great disservice, having failed to properly reconnoiter my surroundings. All I had made myself familiar with were the living room and kitchen. While the kitchen-sink vom is a classic (see 'In the Hills of North Berkeley', among others), I didn't feel that I
A. knew and was well-enough liked by the people who lived here to do this or
B. was unknown and completely untraceable by the people who lived here to get away with it
The first rule of a smooth vom is to use what you have. This could mean puking down your shirt (see 'Berlin Metro'), puking into an empty glass (see 'Wedding Night Jitters?'), or even puking down your pants (I'm sure I've done this too). With a little quick thinking, I bolted upright, ripped my shoe off and starting blasting vomit down the foot-hole.
Unfortunately I only had one shoe on and had no idea where the other was. It was too dark to search. Temporary holding measures had been executed, the shoe was full, and now it was time to find a real receptacle. To the bathroom!
I leaped up from the couch to the bathroom, but it was locked so I just puked all over the door.
But it turns out that that was actually our host's bedroom door. Confused and disgruntled, she opened the door and re-directed my energies to the real bathroom. I messily vomited all over the room and passed out.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
