Oh yeah...Ive always referred to this as the 'toothbrush story'...for reasons I'll get into later.

My buddy and me were the 'keg providers' for this party and we were going to an engagement party for one of my buddies work friends. Anyway, we got there, proceeded to drink the keg and then some. I dont really remember exactly how much I drank, but it hit me after a few hours that I was going to puke. I went to the only bathroom in this small apartment and dutifully waited in line.

When I got into the bathroom, I yakked like there was no tomorrow...I puked it up, but good. Problem was, I was making some time with a couple of girls at the party and there was no way I could go out there with 'puke breath'...so I spotted a toothbrush and proceeded to clean up by brushing my teeth with someones toothbrush.

So after brushing, I cleaned up the bathroom and headed back out to puke and rally, which I did.

After a couple more hours, I felt the need to relieve myself once again...so I waited in line, puked my guts out and then brushed up once again. I cleaned up the bathroom and then exited again to puke and rally.
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After that I dont remember too much, however, the next day, my buddy comes by and was talking about the crazy party..he mentions some sick fuck that used the girlfriends toothbrush during the party and it had all kinds of chunks and stuff in it...

I looked shocked and exclaimed...'Who would do such a thing?'



...I hope he doesnt read the board

Quick puke stories:

I was on my second date in junior high school. Fairlyand Park (before Worlds of Fun was built). Took a very pretty girl to show her a good time. She had a bunch of cotton candy and a lemonade, it was a real hot night, kind of like tonight. Got on the tilt a whirl, the one the snaps you around and the car spins in a circle. She hurled right in my lap. Nasty Nasty Nasty. We were 13, it was our last date.

My 2nd year at Mizzou, I shared an apartment with a guy named Blair who's father was a doctor in Columbia. His 21st BD was the day before the first day of classes. He was a tequila drinker. I had never ever drank tequila. He bought 2 5th of Two Finger and a bag of limes. Our apartment was where the paved road turned to gravel out about 10 miles from town. He wanted to drink to his BD, and asked me to join him. There was a bridge and a creek about 100 yards down the road, so we sat on the bridge, each of us drank a fifth of tequila straight, just sucking on limes. In about an hour I got violently ill. Puked all the way back to the house, my first 100-yard puke. Remember hanging onto the floor with both hands to try to make the room stop spinning. Woke up two days later, missed the first day of school. I've never touched tequila since, that was 30 years ago.

About two months ago, went to the Royals game on a "buck" night. Sitting upstairs behind home plate. This kid, probably about ten, kept running up the stairs, coming back with a Pepsi in both hands and a hot dog in his mouth. Went up and down, up and down, up and down, for four straight innings. Around the fifth, his dad is helping him up the stairs, kid pukes hot dog all over himself. Just drenched himself. I knew it was coming....knew it was coming....it was gross, but it cracked me up.

Once upon a time, there was a young man at a keg party.

Whilst there, one of the girls became exceedingly intoxicated and passed out on the ground. The young man, in an act of chivalry and moment of compassion, took it upon himself to minister to the girl by taking her on his shoulder, to his car, and, from there, to her home. Sadly, the girl decided to vomit as the young man was carrying her to the car and her vomit ran down his back, into his shorts, and between his butt cheeks. This greatly disturbed the young man and he promptly tossed the girl into some nearby bushes and danced the ass-vomit dance for some moments.

It would be a long time before the young man was attentive to a drunken female after that.

FAX

The "Ass Vomit Dance?"

It's a lot like the Macarena, Mr. gblowfish.

But, light on the "maca" and heavy on the "rena".

FAX

Coupla the broad strokes of the story.

Puked up chicken quesadillas.
Ex-girlriend had a hungry cat.

Just ate a chicken quesadilla.
You owe me $5.

It's in the mail.
I can mail you a cat, too... if you need.

To drink. To live. That was my motto. My raison d'etre as I pursued my self-serving cerebrations under the influence of wine and mind-numbing spirit. Then, as it happened, I was served a rum and orange juice that had, apparently, been concocted in the bowels of hell itself. And so it was that, with curious and sudden violence, my stomach heaved ruminations of bile until, at last, before me, in the dim light of the vile and disreputable saloon in which I had sought my solitude, lay a pool consisting of what were, only moments before, the contents of my mortal being.

I staggered momentarily. Then, regaining my balance, I started with an abrupt and unfathomed fear. Did I just perceive movement in the stagnant viscera of digested food and liquor lying at my feet? No! It was not possible! Surely my mind had been damaged by drink or my senses broken at last with sickness! Yes, that must be it. I am merely taken with fever. And, yet, it moved. I did see it. Yes, it was true! It moved!

With helpless self-loathing and the trembling curiosity of the damned awaiting final judgment, I watched as, imbued as if possessing the satanic energy of a thousand nightmarish ghouls born in the bottomless pits of perdition, the disgorgement before me took shape. Slowly, inconceivably, hypnotically, the spue formed and reformed into a bizarre, blasphemous, and dripping organism of such hideous and fantastic visage that I was at once struck prostate with loathing and a paralytic fear.

The putrid, watery, reeking being, for now it was such a ghastly and viperous horror, mushroomed into existence before my now delirious and frantic eyes and I paled with fright and sickening fascination at the sight of it! And, nightmare beyond madness, the thing moved! I tried to force my legs to run, but they were fastened to the earth as if paralyzed or ruminating in charnel, stoic ooze. And it came! It came! Step after desolate step the monstrous, moldering, vomit-being closed the space between us. Madness beyond despair! Had I only the power of Mr. Bob Dole! But no! I was infected with a psychotic darkness that held me in place as the transuding, fetid, hellish phantasm greedily reached through the blackness. Reaching. Reaching for my soul.

FAX

Oh man, I knew keeping up with this thread would pay off. I just didn't expect it to pay off that much.

FAX is simultaneously channeling Edgar Allen Poe and Calvin and Hobbs.

ROFL

If I had a sig, that would be it.

FAX

I got alcohol poisoning once but I forgot how it happened.

Mr. FAX, you are either the most deeply disturbed or eminently entertaining individual I've read in a forum such as this.

Maybe you're both.

This is my latest puke story..this spring opening at the local horse track myself "ole-growler" my son & his wife when to watch the races and bet on the Kentucky Derby.."ole-growler" got bored and started drinking tequilia-sunrisers one after another..on the way home she puked her guts out the window..dumb-bitch puked into the wind covering herself in red-puke..she turned around to me and said .. bet I look like shit.. I replied "Bell-of-the-Ball" .....