Shuddering Tales Of Vomit

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

From the creators of Underpants Tales, a new foray into possible TMI.

Dopers, tell us your Shuddering Tales of Vomit.

I have two. One recent, one distant.

Let us journey back to the summer of Austin Powers II, what was it? Three years ago? I was overcome in the movie theatre with very early and crippling menstrual cramps. ONLY LADIES will understand how painful these can be, especially if you’re not expecting them for a week. I leaned over to my husband and told him I was going to the bathroom. My face was pale, I was sweating profusely. I looked like death.

The bathroom was packed. PACKED I tell you.

So I went to the bathroom on the first floor of the theatre. CLOSED for cleaning. SWEET MERCIFUL CRAP! I just wanted to sit down and possibly throw up from the pain.

And then I remembered. The car was parked just a few blocks away…AND…AND…there was advil in the car. I stumbled from the theatre (this is on Michigan avenue in Chicago) and began the walk to my car, which involved sitting down at every street corner to recover from the waves of pain. Finally, my stomach could stand it no longer, sir, and I puked my brains out.

All over the historic Masonic Temple.

Afterwards I passed out in my dodge stratus, curled fetally in the back seat. Hubby was enraged because he thought I’d been abducted.

The End

When I was eleven, I wanted nothing more than to please my 18 year old aunt. I thought she was the COOLEST. So she had a sleepover and invited me to stay up with her friends. Then, in true Aunt Kathy Fashion sternly warned me that if dared to fall asleep before four o’clock, she would tell my parents that I stayed up all night (the logic escaped me). This was a Saturday night, and church was at 8:00.

She finally allowed me to go to sleep at 5:00, my mom woke me up two hours later to get ready for church.

I was in horrible shape. Ate a bunch of junk food the night before, was tired…blah blah blah. Long story short…

I got to church, walked inside, and puked my brains out, in the basin of Holy Water.

And now, I have seats next to the band in Hell.

jar

2

I had a strange infection. Went to the doctor. He gave me an antibotic, very strong one, to take for the usual 7 days. The guy I was dating wanted me to go with him to visit his mom the next day, about a two-hour drive. So I’m supposed to take food with the meds. I get up and have a small breakfast in order to take the meds. He picks me up about 30 minutes after I finished eating. We are about halfway there, when I get so sick on my stomach that I’m about to just pass out. So very calmly I ask him to pull over. Course at this point in time we are in the middle of beaver heaven, swamps surround us, southern living at it’s best. He doesn’t understand why I want to pull over, being the typical male he needs a 30 minute explanation. Course, after cleaning up Cherrios for several hours after we get to his mom’s house, whenever I asked him in the future to pull over, he would have done NASCAR proud.

3

ha! Cheerios puke. can’t beat it. My husband learned that lesson right away. When I say pull over, lord I mean it.

jar

4

Let’s visit Why A Duck’s brain…

Right-half: “Hmmm, a jarbaby thread usually good for a laugh, I ought to open it.”

Left-half: “Wait, the thread is titled "Shuddering Tales Of Vomit ", you may want to think twice about that Sparky.”

Foolish me, listening to my right half. All I can say is Eeeeeewwwwwww!.

I’d share a tossing tale, but mine just involve the usual; too much alcohol, a bad piece of fish, some stupid germs, or a sympathy hurl from having someone lose it all over me.

5

Interestingly enough, I had quite the episode just this week. A friend gave me an herbal supplement which is said to have a certain positive effect on the male privates, which it did, but then I had some “hot” chicken wings and the grumbling began. As I was returning from the airport a half hour later, I almost had to pull over and decorate the curb, but I kept control until I got home. I didn’t really feel that bad, just had an overwhelming urge to purge. Got in the condo, straight to the bathroom, and let fly. WOW! About six of seven full blown jet streams of mostly digested lunch and dinner that would make Linda Blair blush, then the regular after-spasms, and that was all. Some sort of toxic mess just had my body say “Get the Hell away from me!” A little ice cream made everything better.

But a few years ago I drank the water in Guatemala and picked up a nasty thang in my gut. This was one of those things when fluid was coming out of every place fluid can come out of at one time and at a high velocity (tears, sweat, pee, vomit, and diarrhea) which made for interesting decision-making while approaching the toilet. I settled on the trash can in front of the toilet approach. I was down for about three days, stopped everything up with meds, then had the doc ask for a stool sample. Ammonium AD works well, so the stool wasn’t coming that time of day. I felt better, figured it went away, and the doc couldn’t figure out what it was, so he prescribed the “shotgun approach” which cleans out EVERYTHING. 12 days of no caffeine or alcohol, ruining my mornings AND evenings, so I saved the pills for a rainy day. It rained six months later while I was in Dusseldorf, another three days of joy in the toilet. I took the pill regimen upon my return home.

6

Ahhh vomit stories. I’ve got a few of these.

The first takes place at the Junior High carnival that was near my house. I was in elementary school at the time. This carnival had rides and games - the usual. I ate a big breakfast before going on that fateful Saturday; a very tall stack of heavy pancakes loaded with sweet, sticky syrup. I met up with some friends from school at the carnival and we decided to ride the Tilt-A-Whirl. This ride is similar to Disney’s ‘Tea Cups’ - it’s a car that spins on its axis while sitting on a track that goes in a circle. I packed in with three friends. The ride started. I started feeling sick. The guy controlling the ride showed no mercy; he let the ride time extend far longer than normal. I couldn’t hold back - the spinning of the car resulted in me and the guy sitting next to me covered in vomit. I wasn’t popular that day.

Second story. AM/PM (a convenience store like 7/11) opens in the town I lived in and had a special sale on 32 ounce fountain drinks. It was a hot day so I rode down to the store to get one. I decided to go for a ‘suicide’ - a mixture of all the flavors they had. We’re talking orange, Mountain Dew, regular Coke, Dr. Pepper - the works. I was drinking it as I rode my bike home and started to feel sick. I lost my guts all over the side walk, but managed to keep my bike upright and made it home. That sidewalk stain lasted for a long time though.

Another instance, most of the family was suffering from a bad bout of the flu. The doctor had told us to drink lots of liquids and said popsicles were good. I had a cherry popsicle and shortly thereafter my dad came home from work and made dinner. Stew. With big chunks of meat in it. I ate and decided to take a shower shortly thereafter. The heat from the shower and the flu combined to cause the contents of my stomache to expell themselves. What I saw on the floor was thick, bright red chunks of meat. My first horrifying thought was that I was throwing up my internal organs. I was somewhat relieved when I realized it was just popsicle and stew meat.

7

For a second there, I thought you meant something completely different.

The only puke story I can share is the one when I brought my very newborn son to a Christmas party. I held him up by the tree so he could look at all the pretty lights. I guess he didn’t like them too much.

Mucous tinsel.

8

This may seem odd to some, but I have only vomited once in my life that wasn’t related to an overindulgence of alcohol. Once.

I was about 8 years old, and I guess I caught the typical stomach bug that was going around. I felt fine at dinner, and had a huge piece of my Mom’s delicious (or so I thought at the time) Jewish Apple Cake. I’ve always been a sucker for sweets.

Around 1am, I’m feeling sick to my stomach, so I climb out of bed, creep into my Mom’s bedroom and I start poking her. The conversation went something like this:

Jadis: Mom, I don’t feel well.
Mom: <snarfleblargh> Huh?
Jadis: SPLORT!!

Yes, before Mom was even fully awake, I pretty much puked right on her head. Isn’t parenthood a joy?

As an aside, that one vomiting incident seems to have engaged every instinctual survival instinct I have relating to food. I am no longer able to eat cooked apples in any way, shape or form. I may be the only American on the planet who absolutely will not eat apple pie. Knowing the source of my apple-loathing doesn’t help, either…rationally, I know that apples are poisonous, but here I am, 23 years later, and I still can’t look cooked apples in the eye (so to speak). The body is an amazing thing.

9

Welcome to the Department of Redundancy Department. :rolleyes:

<sigh>

10

Back in college my buddy and I were watching a bar band and waiting on a third friend to join us. We’d split one pitcher and had just started on a second when he showed up. For some reason he felt compelled to “catch up” as he put it and started slamming his mugfulls down.

Ten minutes later, as I’m turned slightly away from him and watching the act, I see a fine, precise stream of fluid come screaming from our table toward the stage.

I turn and see this look of brutal horror in his eyes and his fingers pressed firmly against his lips, maybe 1/4 inch apart. This arrangement of digits had allowed his up and coming sudpuke to attain a magnificent velocity, one surely worthy of an overpressured firehose.

He then grabbed the pitcher, doused the non-existant fire on the club’s carpet with it’s contents and proceded to blow chow in front of the stunned bar audience.

Through with his performance, he exclaimed “Second wind”, downed his waiting mug of beer and handed the refilled pitcher to our drop-jawed waitress.

I insisted later that he be generous with his tip.

11

I’m not one to get sea-sick, but I have, twice.

The first, and greatest, was when I went deep-sea fishing with about 20 Marines off of Atlantic Beach. It was our first weekend liberty during our AT (Annual Training) at Camp LeJeune and this was about a week after Hurricane Bertha hit. We left early in the morning, as the boat was pulling out at 0700. We get there about 0645 and are told that we can not bring our coolers (stuffed with beer) on the boat (surely a scam to get us to buy their $3 cans of Lite.) Realizing that, if we were quick and thirsty, we could down quite a few beers in the 15 minutes before we had to be aboard, a few of us did just that.

In the finest college shot-gunning fashion, I downed six (6) beers and ate, literally, half a bag of Doritos[sup]TM[/sup] before going aboard.

We were to be out for eight hours and the sun was just rising on the horizon. It was a beautiful, clear day. The Ocean was rough that morning with 6’+ swells and a few of us were really enjoying standing on the bow, riding each crest-and-crash like a rollercoaster. About half an hour into it, our Gunny got sick. Granted, he was heavily hung over from his Friday night libation and was certainly the worse for wear because of it. What followed was the better part of a dozen Marines getting sick over the side of the boat with the balance of us laughing and pointing at them.

Then I went amid-ship and downstairs to use the head. It was hot, stuffy and there was no view of the horizon. After bouncing off a few walls and managing to get most of my pee in the toilet, I make my way back upstairs. It was a little after 0900.

Maybe five minutes later, I get the first tremor, the first uneasiness. I’m still up front, riding the waves with the remaining eight non-sick Marines, having a good time. Suddenly, a cold sweat and I know it’s coming.

I should mention, at this point, that the Marines that had already gotten sick had sort of congregated in front of the bulkhead, that is, they were all sitting around, trying not to move, in front and to the right (starboard) of the wall outside the super-structure in the middle of the boat.

I made my way over to the side of the boat and stood there for a moment. Eyes and heads turned to look, sure another leather neck was about to toss his cookies. They were not disappointed.

What erupted from my mouth was not unlike the vomit-scene from The Exorcist. At least six feet, straight out, it had a bright orange beer-and-chips color. Thing is, I was windward. After shooting out above the waves, the wind caught it and carried it back to those already ill, laying about ten feet away. A fine sprinkling covered them all. Twice. It seems I had quite a bit held in my tummy that morning.

You’d think that would end it, but after I joined the “corner of sickies,” I found I would have to get up and hurl about once an hour. Quickly it was nothing more than straight bile. I heard, more than once, that just the awful sound of my retching was making people hurt. It seems I really get into my heaving, complete with tearing up and making the most painful <auuurrrrgggg-urrrrrggg!> sounds.

On the plus side, I caught a baby shark, maybe two feet long.

12

lieu, I have only now caught my breath from convulsing with laughter at your post.

Something about your friend’s look of horror at seeing what he’d done. Whew.

13

The second story comes from a Spring Break I took after college. I actually went with a bunch of college friends, including the Ohio State Ski Club. We went to South Padre Island (Texas.) The long and short of this story is that on one of the last days, we held our Beer Triathlon . For those of you too lazy to check the link, it involves drinking a beer per lap, running through the ocean, bear-crawling, doing a couple “dings” and some jumping jacks. There are ten laps (120 oz of beer is involved.) If you throw up, you lose a lap.

Rather than get into everything that happened and write another 1,000 words, let me just cut to the chase:
Lap 8, everyone else has already throw up at least once and I’m running through the ocean, I have 96oz of beer in my stomach at this point. Once again, Exorcist-style puke as I’m running and I don’t stop, I just keep going, letting the splashing water clean me as I go. Cheers and groans can be heard from the crowd on the beach and up in the hotel. I’d say we had at least 200 people watching. Phrases like “That was the sickest thing I’ve ever seen,” and “It went at least four feet out!” can be heard.

I come in third, but I got the crowd appreciation award.

Ahhhh, memories.

14

Chi-dopers will appreciate this.

A few years back I was living in Oak park, but working at a school in South Holland. One day I woke up with what I “thought” might be the flu…I foolishly went in to work anyway. Mid morning…I knew I had to go home…on a warm spring day…inhaling the sweet fumes of the inbound Dan Ryan…behind a semi…

I met my friend RAAAALPH in the drivers seat of the car, while driving 45 on the inbound Ryan…somehow I made it back home covered in puke.

A shining moment in beagledave history.

15

Oh beagle, I thought it would be when you saw the Packers get their asses kicked by the Broncos in the Superbowl

Did you puke then?

jar

16

How I managed to read this entire thread while eating a big bowl of Portabella mushroom soup, I’ll never know…

17

Good Lord, peanut. I’m shocked as well.

jar

18

Two Stories:

  1. I was quite young and woke up feeling nauseous. But being the kid I am just ignored it. After breakfast the nauseagot worse but no inclination to puke yet. Later the morning I was dropped off at a friends place. Nausea continued to worsen. Phoned my mom told her to come fetch me. On the way home I feel the vomit coming up. I tell my mom to pull over and she does. Right next to a bus stop filled with people. As I step out the car I begin to vomit. Violently. The crowd just stares. When I’m finished I just crawl back in the car, the crowd wide eyed, my mom laughing hysterically.

2)Mid year Vacation 1998. Go up country to attend student union seminar. Basically it’s a big party. Start drinking in early afternoon. Much of the night is blank. Wake up next morning with the hangover from hell, wearing someone elses jacket, and my suitcase lying open with ALL my clothes in it covered in vomit. You know it was a good party!

19

Jar, after all the threads I’ve seen you start and after some of the most creative curse words I’ve seen you use in the pit, I find it hard to believe that anything shocks you.

20

Fredge, I think you’d be surprised. A LOT of things shock me. Things that don’t shock other people shock me.

Hearing about people hurting puppies shocks me, even though it shouldn’t by now.

I’m naive that way :slight_smile: