When I was four, I got some kind of stomach virus and ended up spending the day on the couch. My mom came to check on me at one point, and asked if I needed anything. I opened my mouth to respond, and instead produced a jet of vomit that spattered beautifully on the ceiling. Mom was not impressed.
I spontaneously vomited on my plate at a barbeque restaurant when I was six or eight. I wasn’t sick or anything – I just felt like throwing up.
I was a very nervous child when I was in junior high school, mostly due to constant bullying that the administration chose to ignore. As a result, I would frequently throw up before leaving to go to school or after I got to school. I always made it to the bathroom, except for the morning that I had a chocolate-chocolate chip muffin for breakfast. I was walking along the sidewalk, then urp – the muffin was now spattered all over the sidewalk. Somehow, I managed to avoid being spattered; I went to the bathroom to make sure I was clean enough, then went to class. Later that day at break, I saw the janitor outside muttering and hosing down the sidewalk. I felt bad about it, but I don’t think he knew I did it.
When I was a senior in high school, I got food poisoning from a local burger stand. I was throwing up at least once every hour. By midday, I was exhausted. I was trying to relax on the sofa, when I felt it happening again. I thought I had enough time, but as soon as I stood up I started vomiting. It hit the floor within inches of the dog’s head. It didn’t seem to bother her though.
I’ve done lots of public puking, but I’ll just give you my favorite story.
This happened when I was in high school. I had gone out drinking Saturday night, and I was still feeling rather poorly when Sunday morning dawned. At the time, I was living with my grandma, who had an iron-clad rule about going to church every Sunday. I tried to tell her I didn’t feel good, (although I didn’t tell her why) but she was jaded from my frequent attempts to avoid church and wouldn’t listen.
So off we went to church. Before long, the preacher asked everyone to stand and turn to page whatever in the hymnbook, and I realized to my horror that I didn’t dare move. I sat there rigid, sweating, and swallowing. My brother, noticing my distress, leaned over with a big grin and said, “Julie. Don’t. Barf.” I turned my head and BLEAAAAAARGH spread the contents of my stomach on the pew beside me. At the sight of two untouched pills glistening in the mess, I whispered weakly, “Damn. I lost my Nuprin.” This was the funniest thing my brother had ever heard.
My grandma was completely mortified and made both of us leave the church. We tried to be inconspicuous but it wasn’t easy, as we were carrying a wet ten foot long pew cushion reeking of used alcohol.
He’s on the boards.[sup]1[/sup] If he sees this thread maybe he’ll tell the story.
[sup]1[/sup]My brother’s on the boards. Not Danny Kaye. Danny Kaye is surrounded by boards. As in, a box. Cos he dayd.
First time I was pregnant with my oldest daughter. I was at the mall and didn’t have time to run to the restroom. As soon as I started gagging, I turned toward one of those big planters. I just about made it.
Second time was while pregnant with my second daughter. I started gagging in Kroger and made it out to the parking lot, right in front of the door. You’d think if a person was as sick as I looked that others might offer assistance, but no, people ran the opposite direction. Tacos and chocolate milk coming out must be really scary.
I once saw a pregnant woman spontaneously vomit in a gas station. She was walking down the aisles without a care in the world. All of sudden she stopped, put her hands up to her mouth, and started puking into them before she could get close to a bathroom. Thankfully, someone opened the door for her.
Me: twenty-one years old on my first “important” business trip to Palm Springs for a special events company that was doing the concessions for a racing event.
Rather than stay at the hotel I arranged to stay with some older friends (mid-30s) who lived in PS and nicely indulged my wish to cruise the bars despite the fact they both had to work the next day. I drank about 162 white Russians and was having a gay old time (in every sense) until we got in the car to go home.
I threw up on the outside of their car, a new BMW, then proceeded to barf on my seatbelt, injecting barf into that little space where the seat belt retracts. My friends finally got me home, where I kept them up all night while I dry-heaved in the guest bathroom that shared a wall with their bedroom.
Next morning I somehow get myself to the car racing track at 5am and begin setting up the concession stands, doing the money, etc . . . pausing to throw up the doughnut and chocolate milk I had tried to keep down and then dry heaving. Come 9am, it’s 115 degrees in Palm Springs and the race cars start going around and around and around, making terrible noises and spewing terrible gases that would have made me nauseated without the benefit of a hangover. On top of this I have to make rounds to our greasy hamburger and hot dog stands to do re-stocking, serve customers when the lines got long. Every 15 minutes I would have a spasm of dry heaving.
I drove home from PS dry heaving all the way and spent three days in bed. Methinks 'twas alcohol poisoning and my friends claim to have a lasting memory of the night everytime they got in their BMW, as they were never able to completely get the barf scent out of the seat belt thingie.
Twice that I know of, though I don’t actually remember the first. I was in elementary school at the time, and wasn’t feeling well. We had been informed that we had to ask for permission to leave the room, so I shakily got up, went to the teacher’s desk, and asked, “Can I be excYEAGHHHHH” all over the top of his desk. Reportedly, the following day the teached informed the class that there was now an exception to the ‘ask for permission before leaving the room’ rule.
The other time, I was a young adolescent, probably thirteen. It was sunday, and I wasn’t feeling well. My parents thought I was trying to get out of going, (I wasn’t that enthusiastic about church) and they rather unsympathetically made me go anyway. Well, this was a Mormon church, and as you may be aware in Mormon churches they have the sarcrament be carried around to the congregation by twelve to fourteen year old boys. I was up there, in the second row of suit-enclad boys, as they were saying the blessing, when suddenly I had a visitation of a rather non-heavenly variety. I clapped my hands to my mouth and ran, after only getting a little spurt on the floor and the boy’s shoulder in front of me. I tore out towards a bathroom with a mouthful of spew and managed to deposit most of it in a sink. After cleaning off my shirt and jacket somewhat I sat around miserably until my Dad found me and informed me that they believed I was sick now.
Apparently, when I tore out of there the ceremony paused, then carried on gamely. It takes a lot to rattle these guys. I’m not sure what the kid I puked on did though.
I don’t know how I could have forgotten this - I yakked on Mickey Mouse on a visit to Disneyland when I was 4-5. Teacup ride + too much junk food. Mickey was there as we got off, and … bleah.
To this day I have visions of the overgrown rodent on a couch, shrink taking notes: “And then that damned kid BARFED all over me, and Minnie wouldn’t come near me for a week…”
Ok…I was not present, but had the following story related to me by all who were present, and vouch for its authenticity.
My friend “F” and his girlfriend went out with some others for a nice italian meal. After dinner, it was off to the local watering hole for a pint or two.
Evidently, something “F” ate didn’t quite agree with him, and toward the end of his pint he was feeling decidedly peaked. So peaked that, according to eyewitnesses, just as he emptied the last milliliter of stout into his gullet he, uh, reversed course, and in one graceful, fluid movement, returned his glass to the table, now miraculouly full to the brim, his stomach contents on full display to anyone interested, and no one outside the immediate table any more the wiser. As the sight of what had seconds before been inside of “F” was deemed a tad on the revolting side, a hasty retreat was called for, and the party left quickly and quietly, with only a warm steaming pint of chyme to show they were ever there.
I came really, really close to it one school assembly–all I remember is running frantically from the gym with one hand clutched over my mouth, flying towards the washrooms, and then feeling feverish and icky in the teacher’s lounge afterwards. Never actually did it in public, though.
I was at work at my mom’s restaurant and I felt like having a salad. I asked one of the cooks (I wanted to ask one of the other cooks, but she was the only one free) if she could make a calamari salad for me. I knew she was incompetent but I didn’t think she would undercook food. After eating that, I felt pretty queasy for an hour or so. The other waiter told me to go in the back to lay down and I did. But as I laid in the back room, my stomach just started to turn more and more. Finally I ran to the bathroom and projectile vomited into the toilet. Most of it got in, but some of it was on the seat of the toilet. After "HUUUUURRRRRRRRRR"ing for a while, I felt a lot better. I went outside and got the cleaning stuff and cleaned it all up.
I must have shot it :eek: at least 3-4 feet! I’m sad to say that I’m kinda proud of that in a sick and twisted way
When I was about 5 or 6 though, we had just been to visit my aunt and uncle, who’s 10 year old son had either just died of meningitis or was sick with meningitis, I don’t remember. On the way to my other aunt and uncle’s house who we were staying with, I suddenly started getting a headache and feeling really sick. I ended up puking all over the back seat of my parent’s car. As you can imagine they were rather worried having just been in the vicinity of viral meningitis and were incredibly pissed off when we got to my aunt and uncle and my uncle, who was a doctor, took ages to see me.
There have been so many alcohol and post alcohol puking incidents that they’re really not worth repeating. I am proud to say that I have always managed to make the bathroom or somewhere safe and have never puked on anyone or in front of anyone as an adult. I have however driven home so drunk that I had to pull over to throw up and then carry on driving. Not one of my finest moments and incredibly stupid of me.
