My Worst Vomit
We all love a drink. Some of us love them so much they want to see them again on the way out of their mouths. I once got caught by surprise by the boozy sickness while chatting to some friends in my kitchen. Quick as a flash I grabbed a nearby pan and chundered away merrily in it. Realising it was probably time for bed I staggered off to my room. Unfortunately, my co-ordination failed just as I reached the landing and I somersaulted down the entire flight of stairs with my saucepan full of vomit. Beat that!
( , Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:00)
We all love a drink. Some of us love them so much they want to see them again on the way out of their mouths. I once got caught by surprise by the boozy sickness while chatting to some friends in my kitchen. Quick as a flash I grabbed a nearby pan and chundered away merrily in it. Realising it was probably time for bed I staggered off to my room. Unfortunately, my co-ordination failed just as I reached the landing and I somersaulted down the entire flight of stairs with my saucepan full of vomit. Beat that!
( , Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:00)
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Back when I was a student (as all good vom-tales begin)
A friend in my halls-of-residence gave his stomach a good spring clearout one Friday night, at the bottom of the stairwell connecting two housing-blocks. The next morning, two hundred people got up, and headed for the stairs to go about their day.
A fifth fundamental physical force can now join Gravity, EM, and the brothers Nuclear - it's name is Simon's Ripe Gutsauce. It pushed back all who faced it with such power as to make diamagnetism insanely jealous, and the Cornish tides stand and salute.
The - "smell" is too small a word - remained until the unfortunate cleaners destroyed it with what I assume was a controlled detonation and some form of magick.
After the weekend.
The Bank Holiday weekend.
Three days of... that, staking out the stairwell as its own, occasionally sliding under doorways. The poor fuckers in that building must have felt like Egyptians at the first Passover.
( , Mon 23 Aug 2004, 22:57, Reply)
A friend in my halls-of-residence gave his stomach a good spring clearout one Friday night, at the bottom of the stairwell connecting two housing-blocks. The next morning, two hundred people got up, and headed for the stairs to go about their day.
A fifth fundamental physical force can now join Gravity, EM, and the brothers Nuclear - it's name is Simon's Ripe Gutsauce. It pushed back all who faced it with such power as to make diamagnetism insanely jealous, and the Cornish tides stand and salute.
The - "smell" is too small a word - remained until the unfortunate cleaners destroyed it with what I assume was a controlled detonation and some form of magick.
After the weekend.
The Bank Holiday weekend.
Three days of... that, staking out the stairwell as its own, occasionally sliding under doorways. The poor fuckers in that building must have felt like Egyptians at the first Passover.
( , Mon 23 Aug 2004, 22:57, Reply)
« Go Back