I was going to make him clean up, but he was totally out of it. I didn’t want a room that smelled like that, so I had to clean it up.
He was so out of it he couldn’t stand, crawl, or move anyplace.
Getting him to the shower was a bitch…
He does owe me, and he did apologize quite strongly when I ran into him today… but I still want him dead.
I just hurt myself laughing at that. I gotta get ME one of those bad boys STAT!
ugg… reminds me of this guy we had over one night that had the shits… he stopped up out toilet (on the 2nd day of us having the place, no less) wth all his nastiness and left, and we had no idea til… we opened the door…
and ran to the store immediately for the strongest chemical possible to get al the CRAP the hell outta the toilet… yuck yuck yuck
That’s what you get for having drunkards for friends. Why would you even stock rotting yeast product in your home if you don’t want people to get sick from it?
And what are “the shits”?
Diarrhoea. And holier than thou posters.
You had him at your complete mercy and didn’t just whale the living shit out of him?
Tut tut! You could have at least given him a “paint job” with his own detritus.
Your friend obviously didn’t understand The Etiquette of Vomiting
(This is from a website that was linked on Weird Earl’s. The site has a message board on which I found the following post.)
The very first reply to this said:
Not quite the same as the OP, but…
I got off work tonight tired. Really tired. Came home, let the dog out, sat down to read the board a bit. Doggie - my cute, sweet, adorable, wonderful little doggie - came into the bedrom and lay down on her cute, sweet, adorable, wonderful little doggie bed, next to my bed, and began chewing on a rawhide treat. All was well. Suddenly I thought, “Hmm, the sound of doggie’s chewing seems slightly different… almost like the sound of doggie retc----”
Splash.
She had projectile-vomited all over the (bare hardwood) floor, much of it actually sluicing its way under my bed, not to mention soaking her doggie bed as well.
So instead of my happy doggie and some quiet time reading, I found myself faced with the task of sweeping up utterly vile half-digested dog food. Swept it up, tossed the dog bed out the back door (I’ll deal with it tomorrow), and mopped the floor, all the while gagging at the intense stench of dog-bile and whatever else was in her stomach.
The situation was not improved by the fact that she displayed no remorse, and in fact sat and watched with intent fascination as I swept up her ejecta.
To the dog’s credit, this is maybe the third or fourth time in her entire nine-year life that I’ve had to clean up an indoor mess of any kind. Nonetheless I am not a happy jackelope this evening.
[Wendy]
Barf is GROSS, Stan!
[/Wendy]
clay, all you have to do is make him sleep on a park bench… I hear there are ruffians around who might help you out! 
Speaking from personal experience, unless you like the contoured look for your floor I suggest you do not vomit on bare wood. Wet wood expands, and does not shrink back to the same shape. I was filing down little wooden blocks for days; days, I tell you! Hikers started mapping my hallway…
Ever put your fingers over your mouth when you blow chow? Properly oriented, you can really give your puke some serious velocity, much like with your thumb over a hose end when you’re watering the yard.
A friend of mine did this when we were drinking in a bar watching a stage band. He’d slammed a few and then got real quiet. He was sitting behind me and off to one side. Watching the band I suddenly saw this fine stream go streaking toward the stage. I turned to look at him and he had his fingers over his mouth with a thin opening inbetween and a look of brutal horror on his face. “Zzzzzwwwwhhhhhhhrrrrrr”, there went another shot right past my ear. He then reached over, grabbed the pitcher, dumped it on the floor and started blowing chunks into the empty pitcher.
I looked around the room at the other patrons who were observing the entire episode with stunned disbelief. That was pretty damned entertaining. Gaw, I miss college.
I’m sure he didn’t INTEND to barf all over your floor.
Me thinks he has some ‘issues’ of sorts to make himself drink THAT much to begin with.
Iffin he was in a better condition, I’m sure he woulda made it to the bathroom… or cleaned it up himself.
It’s definitely not something to hate someone for.
far from it. it’s surely not his shining moment. it surely wasn’t his intention.
This reminds me of a dorm incident my freshman year. One of the girls down the hall had a guy drinking in her room who apparently hadn’t eaten in some time. When his stomach was filled to the brim with nothing but booze and Coke, it rebelled. Violently.
He projectile vomited blackish brown stuff all over the bathroom door, the floor leading to the stalls, the stall doors, the walls, the sinks, and the entirety of one of the two stalls on that side of the bathroom.
The cleaning staff only worked Monday-Friday, so of course he did this Friday evening after they left. Since neither my neighbor nor the guy saw fit to clean any of it up, there it stayed till Monday morning. Utterly repulsive.
My best memory of vile ejecta [good word thanks jackelope]–
High school. Chorus concert or spring musical, can’t recall, I was ushering or something. Elderly gentleman was spotted exiting the auditorium and entering an unused classroom, from which we later detected a godawful stench. He’d Houdini’d back out of there, leaving behind…something. OK, hands up, who saw Dreamcatcher? the bathroom scene? Anyone?
We voted he was not only ill but disoriented, perhaps due to Alzheimer’s, and so we didn’t blame him for the mess, but the problem was that we couldn’t tell what it was or which orifice it might have erupted from. Even today I can’t figure it out. It was red/brown/black reeking splatter of a chunky, half-digested marinara texture–yet slimy!–and it smelled like the inside of a tomato’s rectum, or at least what I imagine same to smell like. There was also some associated pale, glistening urine/bile/slime, who knew?
It was unbelievably horrifying and sort of embarrassing in a secondhand way–we were aware that this wasn’t a choice but an unfortunate accident–but it was also, simultaneously, painfully hysterical. While I held the trash bags for the brave teacher who scooped & scrubbed I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants, and then, realizing that I’d almost peed my pants, almost shat myself. I had to sit down to try to get a grip, but all the desks handy were contaminated, so I wobbled around clenching all my muscles and trying not to fall on the filthy floor until I could find something clean to lean on…oh God. I’m laughing right now.
There is probably a special hell reserved for me, and I’ll bet it looks like the criminally-neglectful style of nursing home.
At least he didn’t shomit everywhere. Now that would’ve been even worse 
(Giraffe is right, we need a barfing smiley)
Ya been there, Mith?
You’re entirely welcome. I had to preview twice before I was able to figure out what word I was aiming for, and when I nailed it I was thrilled.
Shomit. THAT’s a good word.