Threw up flaming hot cheetos all over my wife-beater (vest) and beard this past Friday night. Looking at the mirror it looked like I had bled lava from my mouth. Like my head was a magma chamber volcano, and my jaws its vent. Pretty sure I should have died ala Bon Scott that night. Terribly disgusting wonderful night that one, never and always again probably.
St. Paddy’s Day, or rather the early hours following St. Paddy’s. Pretty pedestrian, yeah. I woke up, rolled over, vomited on my rug and then went back to sleep. There’s a plastic bag in a landfill somewhere filled only with paper towels and congealed puke.
Food poisoning, on a flight from LGA to St Louis. Luckily I had a row to myself. Unluckily I didn’t have a change of clothes. Had to get decked out in St Louis Rams gear upon arrival. No other clothiers in the St Louis airport.
Oh boy. All the time. Migraines, weak stomach. By about the fifth trip to the toilet, you can’t help but start dribbling on yourself. Spattering drips of bile onto your toes and sweatpants. Happened last Friday. I made it to class to teach and had to leave to throw up, returning with splotches on my pants. A student asked, “Did you just go to the bathroom to throw up?”
I gave this reading at this little university in rural A and I’m sort of the Guest, you know, (this is small university) and they ply me with wine and wine and wine and it’s just getting nuts and I stumble off into like some dorm area (?) something you know this is night and I don’t know where I am and I drive down some road anyway I just pull into a gas station and vomit all over the steering wheel and myself and fall asleep and next day it’s cool though the sun through the windshield now that was something.
I think the last time I puked on myself was outside a lecture hall, in front of a bunch of kids waiting to get in the lecture hall? That’s a pretty cool place to do it.
This being asked helps remind me that puking on yourself in a public place is one of the funniest things in the world.
Cool places/times to puke on yourself:
-Shitty reading (preferably you puke quietly and are crying softly too)
-In front of Paris Hilton
-On line at a McDonald’s, especially if there are like 8-year-old-kids around
-Onstage as a reader at The Moth
-In the 69 position
-During a seance
-At the zoo, while looking at the gorillas (beat them at their own game!)
-While showering (seems efficient)
-While you are playing in the Super Bowl
New York was vomit town for me – food poisoning three times, although the third time involved no throwing up, just horrendous fever dreaming about a bear opening the door, coming upstairs, coming to get me (I had gone to a cabin over Christmas).
-In the bath (opposite of the shower one for efficiency)
-On a ski lift, while another ski lift gondolier is going by
-in the cinema watching a children’s film
-sitting on a porch, on a swing seat, with your sweetheart
Never thrown up on myself, though I do a good line in extravagant fainting/fitting. On a train (because I read a gross story), in a cinema, in a science classroom (hit my head off the gas taps, made everyone terrified of me)
I threw up Saturday night. I had a sudden onset migraine, fell down trying to get to the bathroom because I didn’t have my glasses on and managed not to puke on the floor but did get some on me. It was hot.
I did manage to once projectile vomit on someone I didn’t like when he came to my house. I think that was the peak of my vomiting career.
I got my wisdom teeth out about six years ago. After the operation the dentist was trying to get me out of the chair and leave. I told him no, I felt just fine in the chair, although my mouth had a lot of gauze in it. So when he and the nurse tried to haul me out of the chair I threw up puke and gauze on him. Serves him right for stealing my fucking teeth.
On myself and on the store carpet and almost on a customer at the national-chain used bookstore where I used to work, because I had a stomach virus and had to work anyway. After I cleaned it/myself up I had to go back to work, but after dry heaving at the register I went home. I got fired two months later for allegedly threatening to burn down the building.
A couple years ago, I was going to see Joey Comeau, Emily Horne and Ryan North talk about Web comics at this place in NY. It was rainy during the day, so I spent most of it watching Jurassic Park II and smoking weed. I am not really
weed-smoker, so by the time I got to where they were speaking, I was this non-social blob of awkwardness. I thought that drinking would make me a little more
However, in spite of being high and my general malnourishment, the food spread looked incredibly attractive. I was that weird guy standing by himself, eating all the cheese and drinking all the beer. Soon the combination of high-class food, booze and weed-induced brain-fucks (“First Jurassic Park and now Dino Comics??!”) proved too much and I stepped outside to vomit on the street. It was one of those traveling pukes because it wasn’t even that late and there were many people still in the streets, so I had to pull it off like it was just a casual part of my evening stroll.
Anyway, I felt a million times better and thought I should get back
to the party. I ordered another beer, vaguely aware of the people inching away from me. When I got home, I realized there was a huge streak of puke on my jeans.
This one didn’t end up on me, and I guess it wasn’t “really” vomit, but I learned something about the digestive system.
I was en route from upstate New York to northern Virginia, and ate at the Wilkes Barre, PA Red Robin – something and French fries.
Next I sat in my car stressing hard about whether I should call a girl in northern New Jersey who I had (and still have) “feeling” for to casually ask if I could add a few hours to my trip to visit her, not having seen her in seven months.
I called and of course, got her voicemail. My stress level was soaring at this point, as in sitting in my car thinking everyone in the parking lot was staring at me. Then I walked to Walmart to use the restroom before getting on the highway, hoping she’d call back. Five steps out of my car and a chunk of undigested french fry shot out of my throat with ketchup still on it. I just kept walking.
She found out later that she was sick with mono, so probably a good thing I didn’t go to Jersey.
the last time was six years ago in my college dorm room, late at night, of course i was drunk, and not only did i throw up all over myself and the floor i puked onto my brand new computer. it stopped working for a day and then came back to life. it’s the same computer I’m using to type this.