Puke and Rally

Puke and Rally

You’ve seen her. The girl stumbling to the bathroom, tripping over her high heels trying to get to the toilet in time before she spits up on herself. Or maybe she’s hunched over a trashcan or laying on the bathroom floor. She’s drunk and she’s sick and she just really needs someone to hold her hair back and make her drink some water. Either way, you’ve seen her and you’ve probably been her at one time or another.

Here’s a little fun fact about myself: If I drink alcohol there is a 98% chance I will vomit at some point in the night. It doesn’t matter what or how much I drink. I will puke. I just have an extremely sensitive stomach and alcohol makes me nauseous as hell. I’ll tell you right now that I am not the girl that needs her hair held or have someone rub my back as I hurl into the toilet. I usually tell a friend to hold my drink, go to the bathroom, vomit, and go back out and continue with my night. I understand this is nasty and embarrassing and probably extremely unhealthy but it makes for interesting stories that I will share with you all.

I am a stealthy, sneaky puker. I’ll do it and you won’t even know. I’m that good. I’m a master of fixing smudged eyeliner and rinsing my mouth out in the sink. But sometimes I’m more belligerent than I care to admit and my classiness takes a toll.

My first memorable experience happened while I was a junior in high school. My friend’s brother was out of town so he had a party. I had a lot to drink and was feeling pretty silly. After I have enough in me, I’ll start drinking whatever is handed to me. Which brings us to my first disgusting tale.

I don’t know who handed me this flask or why they did it but I’ll never forget the feeling after I drank it.
“Here, Marki! Chug this!”
Yeah, okay sure! I took the flask and immediately chugged its contents without stopping to ask what was in it. Mistake.

I later discovered it was a combination of tequila and Natty Light. I’m sorry but what kind of demon soul decided to put those two things together???? As soon as I drained the contents my stomach churned and I knew I wasn’t going to make it to the toilet or a trashcan. The closest appropriate vomit catching capsule near me was the kitchen sink. I ran. I hurled. I died.

After I finished embarrassing myself in front of all of my friends, I turned the faucet on to clean the sink and to rinse out my mouth. I clogged the sink. Now, here’s the biggest regret of the evening: I had eaten a Big Mac from McDonald’s earlier in the day. I was now staring at it in the sink. I had thrown up a mixture of secret sauce and whole dill pickles. You read that correctly. It’s like I didn’t even chew those damn things because there they were in full form clogging up this sink. My friend comes over, first to see if I’m alright, but then quickly begins yelling at me for clogging up the sink and demands I PUT MY HAND IN MY VOMIT in order to clean it up….like no. I’m not doing that. Except I did. And I deserved it. Moral of the story: don’t drink from a mystery flask and never pregame with a Big Mac.

Moving on.

We all know what shotgunning a beer is, right? It’s a trashier version of funneling. Guys normally do it but the occasional girl who thinks she’s “one of the bros” will give it a shot and feel like a badass when she doesn’t throw up. I had a different outcome.
My friends Micah and Trey used to have this apartment where we’d all go and hang out. Well I’m over there one night and everyone is outside on the porch shotgunning beers. I decide to give it a try because I’m adventurous and just don’t give a hoot, ya know??? So I ask someone to show me how and I give it a shot. I downed the whole thing and I’m feeling pretty proud of myself. I totally just impressed all my guy friends with my ~laidback~ ability to chug a beer from the side of a can. So I high five everyone and go back inside the apartment. I open the screen door and make it two steps inside. Then it happens. I burp and literally everything I had just consumed comes spilling out of my mouth. It all happened so fast that I did the only thing I could think of which was to catch my vomit with my hands. There I am, standing there with my hands holding my throw up and Trey Scheb is sitting on the couch in front of me with his mouth open. I look at him. He looks at me. I don’t know what to do. I literally stand there holding my fucking vomit until he yells at me, bringing me back into reality, and says, “FUCKING GO OUTSIDE.” I instantly turn around, step outside and empty the contents of my hands into the grass. I’m so embarrassed that I stay outside for a few minutes before I have to go in and clean up my mess. I’m pretty sure Micah cleaned it up for the most part and I just hovered over him offering to help but he’s pissed at me because not only is he cleaning up my vomit but it stained the carpet to the point where they thought they weren’t going to get their deposit back after they moved because of damages. I felt awful but I learned something about myself that night: I can’t shotgun a beer and I haven’t attempted it since. See? I sometimes learn from my mistakes.

My favorite and proudest stealthy puke story happened when I went to school in Chattanooga. I went to a frat party with a few friends but I wasn’t really feeling like socializing so I kind of just sat by myself while drunk guys preyed on drunk girls. I was in this room where people normally make out with each other but it was early in the night and no one had been captured yet. I hadn’t had that much to drink but I was feeling really sick for some reason. I just knew I had to puke and I had to puke right then. The bathroom was all the way upstairs and I knew I wasn’t going to make it that far. So I’m sitting on the couch and I look to my right and there’s a trashcan. Right. Beside. Me. I didn’t want to be “that girl” hurled over the trashcan puking because then they’d kick me out for being too drunk so I decided to be a ninja and puke in the couch. Not on the couch. IN the couch. I look around me and there’s no one looking. The PRESIDENT of the fraternity is in the corner trying to hook up with some girl so he was preoccupied. The coast was clear. I quietly lifted up the couch cushion and let it all out. I puked for a solid minute. I then put the couch cushion back down. Looked around to make sure no one had witnessed what I had just done. Nope. No one around. Guy was still macking in the corner. So I lifted up the cushion again and went for round two. After I finished, I went upstairs to go rinse my mouth out in the bathroom and grabbed a beer. I went back downstairs and walked over to the couch. There sat two people making out, sitting right on top of my secret stash. I popped open my beer, high fived myself in my head and went home. I’m sorry that I have now given all of you trust issues with frat couches but lesbihonest…I’m sure my vomit wasn’t the worst thing to be spilled on that couch if ya catch my drift.

I make no apologies for my bad little habit though because I don’t get hungover and I still have fun. I could have worse habits. I’m just the picture perfect example of Puke and Rally.

Cheers, beeshes.


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