I went to a party that my college friend Terry was throwing. He usually throws the best parties because he has the best food, free liquor is always nice, and his wife is a self described "ex slut" so her friends that attend his functions look like they just came from a lil John video shoot. As I hung out with some old friends, drinking and discussing old times, I met a nice a nice woman named Anna. Anna was upset that her husband was cheating on her and she discussed a desire to get even with him. I quickly got the hint that she wanted to get to know me "biblically" to get even with her husband, and she was fine so I was flattered. Even though the thought of "waxing that ass like Rain Dance"(as Ice Cube put it) crossed my mind, I declined because having sex with a married woman might fuck up my Karma meter even more.
I guess since getting miscellaneous penis was out of the question, Anna proceeded in drinking like a fish, throwing back shot after shot. I told her to slow down but she ignored my warnings and kept on drinking. After a while she was stumbling everywhere, and as I tried to help her she screamed "I'm about to throw up!!" I rushed her to the bathroom, and when she was about 3 feet from the toilet vomit shot out of her mouth like a ghetto-weave wearing version of the exorcist. As I held her head and noticed the hair tracks in my fingers while she was throwing up, and I saw that she apparently had corn sometime that evening, I thought about the embarrassing times that I lost my lunch.(Side-note to that story* After she vomited she still wanted me to go home with her, after I saw the contents of her stomach laying in a toilet.)
Me and my Cousin: Me and my cousin had the best relationship, he was clearly like a second brother to me. We would get into all types of immature mischief on a regular basis, like throwing eggs at pedestrians, we would act a fool in the mall until one person would be embarrassed, and we used to throw baggies filled with lotion on the windshield of our buddies car just for laughs while we were driving.(See, it is a persons natural reaction to put on their wipers whenever anything hits their windshield. Well, if you do that with lotion then your entire windshield is covered and you can't see shit. I know, very dangerous) Anyway, we had got the bright idea to see if we could drink two 40 oz's a piece one night. We chilled in my room, threw back the 40's and listened to some hip hop. I noticed that my cousin had stopped after the first 40 which was a smart move. Even though I wasn't the drinker that I am today, I downed both 40's like I said I would. The funny thing about that night is that I audio-taped the entire episode, us getting drunk and acting absolutely silly. Do you know what else is on that audiotape?? Me throwing up, screaming "Brendan, I need your help! I keep throwing up!" He was knocked out as I threw up for 15 minutes, finally falling asleep on the toilet. I woke up with my face flush, my eyes bloody red, and my t-shirt that I had thrown up on was filled with holes because of the stomach acids that ate through that motherfucker. Somewhere I have a tape of that whole debacle, that I will actually share if I can find it.
Buddy: My boy Buddy was a professional drinker and that is a compliment. One night we had went to a club together where we had drink after drink. After a while my mouth started to water, which is a sign that vomiting was around the corner if I continued drinking, so I promptly stopped to save the embarrassment. The Buddy got into a altercation with some jackass, so when his boy tried to sucker punch Buddy I stopped that dead in its tracks and punched the shit out of dude. That physical activity almost made me upchuck, but I held it back. "That was close", I thought as I figured that I avoided throwing up. Then I go to use the bathroom and Buddy is in there washing his hands. We are talking about something, and mid-sentence he says "Excuse me critic", throws up in the sink, and then continues talking like nothing happened. The smell of his vomit pushed me over the edge and I threw up all over myself. The smell was horrendous, so much in fact that Buddy made me throw my shirt away and sit my black ass in the back of his truck. It was embarrassing, but I understand. Rest in Peace Buddy.
My Breakfast in Bed: I had dated a chick named Carla for a few months a few years back. Carla was cool, one of the first girls that I seriously thought about getting married to. I'm not going to lie, I like to drink, but Carla had a alcoholic father that was abusive so she detested alcohol on every level. I am not the one to change for a girl, but for some reason I hid the fact that I drank around her. I figured that not drinking isn't a bad thing, so it was a win-win situation at the end of the day. I was the perfect gentleman with Carla, we hadn't had sex yet but after a while a brother had smurf nuts so something had to give. So a night that I wasn't with Carla I was hanging with Danny, getting shit-faced as usual. I had no plans to see Carla, so I figured it was safe to have a few too many. I stumble in the house and as soon as I sit down Carla calls me. She informs me that she wants me to come over for a little "latenightwhatnot"(yes, that is also my email Addy) so I brush my teeth, damn near drink some Listerine, and head over there. When I got there we had sex, and since liquor is ghetto Viagra, I was in rare form that night. We both fall asleep and that was that, right? Wrong! Apparently I had thrown up on myself while I was asleep, I know this because I woke up to a beautiful woman screaming "Oh NO, you motherfucker!! Get your ass out, NOW!!!" How embarrassing, but I gathered my shit and began to leave. The fucked up part is that she was wearing some tiny ass drawls and a tight ass t-shirt, I noticed her "ensemble" as she slammed the door on my face.
Track Practice: Do you know what is worse than throwing up when you are drunk? Throwing up due to physical exhaustion, that's the worse. When I was in high school I ran the 100m Dash, the 200, 400 meter relay, long jump, and triple jump. I used to love going to track meets, doing well, seeing the thoroughbred legs of female sprinters, and flirting with girls who attended the track meets. The part that I used to dread was at the beginning of the season when you had to get in shape. My track coach would run us to death, we would have to run a few miles at a time, and if you didn't run the 400m in a particular time he would make you do it until he was satisfied. No one ever attended our track practices but for some reason, only god knows why, the girl that I had a crush on named Wendy sat in the stands as we worked out. She came to the toughest practice that we had that year, as my coach made us pull his hillbilly ass in a god-damed sled for about a half hour.(Even though my coach wasn't racist, but now you couldn't pay me to get harnessed and pull a white man around as he curses at me. I guess watching "Roots" had a definite impact) The workout was making me nauseous, and I told my coach that I was about to throw up. I guess being a track coach for 30 years and hearing every excuse in the book to get out of a workout had hardened him, so he assumed I was full of shit. A few minutes later, with Wendy looking on, the cheer-leading squad practicing nearby, and the women soccer team running on the same track, I threw up the entire contents of my stomach. Chocolate Milk, chicken Patty, french fries, whatever the fuck I had for lunch that day. To add insult to injury, I could hear Wendy laughing when my coach said, "When you get done throwing up, clean that shit up and come back to practice. You have a few more miles to do!"