Another post mentioned vomiting in the sink. This isn’t the first time I have heard of this occurence. On the odd occurences I feel the “urge to regurge”, it’s straight to the toilet with me, or a private, downhill location if I am outdoors. I mean, aren’t sinks used in a European fashion (as a washbasin) still? That could be potentially disgusting. And what about all of those chunks? That pipe in the bottom cabinet is bendy for a purpose; it’s called a water trap (stops sewer gases from entering the house, don’tcha know). Surely it would become a “chunk” trap as well upon a sudden influx of vomit, causing a rather stale odor in the vicinity over the course of an hour. God forbid if it managed to clog.
I could see if perhaps there was an emergency. But, all of the depictions I have seen (music video, overhearing, literature, Mad) indicated (by standing still for a minute) that there was time enough to go the extra two feet or so to the john. Is this actually an accepted practice, perhaps considered a viable alternative to the toilet?
As an accomplished puker, I always use the toilet. If I’m so sick it’s coming from both ends, I puke in the garbage can. This is, thankfully, a rare occurence.
Would you mind if I used that as a sig line, Giraffe?
And folks, please don’t take this as a defamation of character if you are guilty of the behavior described in my OP.
Sorry, sorry, I was in second grade and had puked three times in the hall on the way to the bathroom and was trying to get to the toilet, I promise. (My later ‘gifts’ were in the toilet)
And that was the last day my dad sent me to school when I told him that “I didn’t feel so good.”
Once I was at a cottage, drinking (which is what teenagers do at cottages). We were sitting on a dock, overlooking a lake, surrounded by woods.
My friend felt the urge. Rather than take advantage of the many convenient opportunities for puking which surrounded her, she ran AWAY from the dock, THROUGH the woods, UP the stairs (passing a railing 15 feet off the ground), INTO the cottage, into the bathroom and threw up …
in the sink.
there’s simply no excuse. Passing up all those wonderful venues to ultimately choose the SINK over the toilet is unforgivable. In fact I still haven’t forgiven her (guess who had to clean it out?)
Yes, that was my post that referred to vomiting in the sink. Since it happened almost nine years ago, my thought process in the matter is almost gone. Well, come to think of it, since I was so hungover I was afraid to open my eyes, I was pretty gone already. As far as I know, this is what happened…
My friend was asking me to format his term paper, as I’d already mentioned. I was feeling sicker and sicker but I didn’t want to move. The minute he figured it out and thanked me, I bolted for the bathroom. Fortunately it was in one of those dorms where all the floors are set up the same, so I instinctively knew where it was. I felt porcelain. The Ghost of J and B decided to make an appearance. Porcelain is porcelain at this critical point. I heaved and (scene deleted). I reached for the handle. Ooops.
Now, at least it was the sink. It’s custom-built with running water and a drain. The same cannot be said for the floor (another vomit point of my drunken past), potted plants, walls, “the ground,” a desk, or, quel horreur, another person.
I’ll let you live, Joe K. But remember to stay clear of me if I’m armed with a bottle of J&B.
My brother, aged 36, has never vomited in the toilet I don’t think. I am not sure about the sink, but I do know floors and sofas are his preferred places to puke.
It’s happened to me. I accidently stabbed myself in the back of the throat with my toothbrush. As I was using the toilet to sit on while brushing my teeth, I had no choice. Into the sink it went. Luckily, I had only eaten oatmeal, so no chunks. It washed away pretty easily.
I would have aimed for the toilet, but I don’t think anyone would have enough time between setting off their gag reflex and actually throwing up to stand, turn, and lift the toilet seat, all before throwing up. I know I didn’t.
Although, yes, it was your post that inspired recollections (not to mention this thread), that was an emergency, and you thought it was the can. Doesn’t count. (The same to you other reflux-impaired wagonjumpers! ). I’m referring to those who have a chance to choose between two –I love this, thanks, Cowgirl – venues and opt for the sink, despite any danger of unpleasant –yechh–reminders that may remain from such practice.
C’mon, man, you wouldn’t do in a fellow Yankee like that, would ya?
I’ve puked in the sink before. After a long night of drinking I promptly went to the bathroom and proceeded to pass out on the floor. Time passes and I hear someone coming in through the window. Its my boyfriend. He had climbed out of my window and walked around the the other side of the house and climbed into the bathroom window. ( we live in a two story house) He said he’d been banging on the bathroom door for about 20 minutes. Said I’d been in there for about an hour. He picks me up off the floor and my stomach reminds me why I came here the first place. I don’t know why I chose the sink. It was closest. My b/f was kind of blocking the toilet too. Now heres the gross part about puking in the sink…
You know those stoppers that clog the sink so you can fill it with water? You pull the little thingy behind the faucet and the sink is closed? Well that my friends is a vomit trapper. I remember vomit and water just being there…all gross and I kept puking. My boyfriend, the hero, sticks his hand into the vomit soup and rips the stopper out. Vomit goes down and the day is saved.
I’ve puked in the sink other times when I’ve been so sick its been coming out both ends. I used to use the garbage cans but we don’t have the plastic kinds anymore. We have wasteBASKETS now…and well puking in those would be a gross and messy thing to do.
I puked in the sink once and my legs gave out during the puking. I banged my face, split my lip, and now I only do the technicolor yawn in the toilet (on my knees) or outside.
I think we’re all forgetting that the toilet does have the distinct possibility of being covered, a clear disadvantage over the sink. You think it’s hard cleaning a sink… think about a fuzzy toilet seat cover.
(The same to you other reflux-impaired wagonjumpers! 
). I’m referring to those who have a chance to choose between two –I love this, thanks, Cowgirl – venues and opt for the sink, despite any danger of unpleasant –yechh–reminders that may remain from such practice.