The Best Puke Post Ever

The part of the church where the silliest things happen. Conversations that sound like they belong in the youth room will be moved here.
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Post by AFRS » Tue Feb 08, 2011 10:59 pm

Jocose wrote:You haven't really puked unless while doing so your testes have cramped and you've simultaneously released large amounts of uncontrollable flatulence
Is that the voice of experience i hear?

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Post by Jake » Tue Feb 08, 2011 11:07 pm

I have been digging through old posts, I could swear that I posted my long and very drawn out puke story. Well, it was a very long and drawn out episode. I wrote about it for an English Composition class assignment as soon as I was well enough to sit up - and got a flaming A. :>) My professor had a great sense of humor.
"It was a bit awkward at first but I soon got to be perfectly at home in men's clothes. " -- Calamity Jane

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Post by Jocose » Tue Feb 08, 2011 11:15 pm

Jake wrote:I have been digging through old posts, I could swear that I posted my long and very drawn out puke story. Well, it was a very long and drawn out episode. I wrote about it for an English Composition class assignment as soon as I was well enough to sit up - and got a flaming A. :>) My professor had a great sense of humor.
I remember a long drawn out story about a diarrhea episode you experienced, but not the puking.
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Post by Jake » Tue Feb 08, 2011 11:17 pm

Jocose wrote:
Jake wrote:I have been digging through old posts, I could swear that I posted my long and very drawn out puke story. Well, it was a very long and drawn out episode. I wrote about it for an English Composition class assignment as soon as I was well enough to sit up - and got a flaming A. :>) My professor had a great sense of humor.
I remember a long drawn out story about a diarreah episode you experienced, but not the puking.
I think it was the same story. There were... um... chapters.
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Post by Jake » Tue Feb 08, 2011 11:31 pm

I found it in this thread: modules.php?name=Forums&file=viewtopic& ... a&start=15

I have always gotten carsick. Growing up in the SF Bay area, I spent a lot of time in Santa Cruz. I loved going there, but oh, how I hated that drive!
Lesson Learned: People who have a history of horking on the highway should never be allowed to ride in the back seat of a 2-door sedan. :oops:

My friend Susan actually took it very well (she was sitting in the front seat). Soon as we got to the beach she hit the waves. I was too busy digging a hole in the sand.
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Post by Jocose » Tue Feb 08, 2011 11:36 pm

Jake wrote:I found it in this thread: modules.php?name=Forums&file=viewtopic& ... a&start=15

I have always gotten carsick. Growing up in the SF Bay area, I spent a lot of time in Santa Cruz. I loved going there, but oh, how I hated that drive!
Lesson Learned: People who have a history of horking on the highway should never be allowed to ride in the back seat of a 2-door sedan. :oops:

My friend Susan actually took it very well (she was sitting in the front seat). Soon as we got to the beach she hit the waves. I was too busy digging a hole in the sand.
:lol:

I smell a moniker change..
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Post by james-owen » Fri Apr 01, 2011 7:07 pm

I love this thread.
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Post by LushMojo » Fri Apr 01, 2011 7:10 pm

james-owen wrote:I love this thread.
This thread loves you, J-O.

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Post by Cleon » Wed Jan 22, 2014 7:10 pm

Jake wrote:I found it in this thread: modules.php?name=Forums&file=viewtopic& ... a&start=15

I have always gotten carsick. Growing up in the SF Bay area, I spent a lot of time in Santa Cruz. I loved going there, but oh, how I hated that drive!
Lesson Learned: People who have a history of horking on the highway should never be allowed to ride in the back seat of a 2-door sedan. :oops:

My friend Susan actually took it very well (she was sitting in the front seat). Soon as we got to the beach she hit the waves. I was too busy digging a hole in the sand.
Wow.
Jake wrote:Since we're being so REAL... I dug out an essay that I had written as a freshman in college about 17 years ago. I remember I was pretty clueless about what I would write about, and it's likely that I had prayed for an idea. It's like God said, "You want material? I'll give you material." After returning to school from a few days of flu, here's what I turned in to my English Composition professor:

Imperfections of Married People

When Terry and I were married, we took the familiar vow about "sickness and health", and I always thought that we'd known what we were saying, and that we'd meant what we said. We nursed each other through colds and minor injuries, and he even coached me through the birth of our son, which I treasured as the most intimate experience of our entire marriage.

Of course, now I know that I've been mistaken all along, for I have just recently learned the true meaning of that wretched promise. For the sake of ceremony it was put in much kinder, less explicit words, but what it meant was that I'd be sharing my space in such a close environment that I could not escape to some far-off, private place when my body needed to do something disgusting and out of my control.

It happened just the other night; I leaped out of bed with a screaming case of diarrhea. No matter what I tried, there was no way to silence the hideous sounds that Terry could not help but hear from down the hall, nor was there much I could do about the foul smell which emanated from the bathroom when I finally opened the door.

I staggered into the bedroom, flopped across the bed and moaned in my most pitiful voice, "Ohhh, Terrrry... Puh-leeze get me some medicine..." He was not terribly understanding, being so rudely awakened at two in the morning, so he told me to go get it myself. I whined back that I couldn't make it up the stairs. He reluctantly went up to the kitchen for me, gagging past the bathroom in the hall on his way. When he returned, he gave me a double dose of Children's Kaopectate. (Wouldn't you know it, there wasn't any grown-up medicine in our house.) I chewed up those four chalky tablets and went back to sleep to the sound of air freshener being sprayed around the vicinity of the bathroom.

When I woke to the six-o'clock alarm, Terry sympathetically told me to stay in bed. I appreciated his understanding, but he didn't realize that he hadn't yet seen the end of my symptoms. I peeled myself out of bed and, after a very short state of denial (surely I wasn't going to vomit, I had gotten rid of everything in my body the night before, hadn't I?) I proceeded to the bathroom, where I threw up things I swore I recognized from two days prior, and what I imagined at first to be my toenails... no, it was the Children's Kaopectate.

By this time, I was down on my knees, hugging the commode. Memories flashed through my mind, of the old "party 'til you puke" days of my youth. There I was, assuming the familiar position from years past, and I didn't even get to do fun things to get there. My daydream was interrupted by my well-meaning husband, with one of the least intelligent questions I could ever credit him with asking, considering my position. He peeked into the bathroom and asked with a halfway grin, " Whatcha doing?"

I felt like sarcastically saying I was feeding the cat, but I was too busy choking out what must have been Thanksgiving dinner from the year before. Besides, we didn't have a cat. As I came out of the bathroom, I saw the can of stuff that Terry had been spraying all around the bedroom and hallway the night before in a vain attempt to cover the stench. It was my apple-scented hairspray, which sits neatly on the shelf, right next to the can of Glade air freshener.
My wife and one of the kids are sick. I thought I'd look up this thread for a glimpse at the bright side of blowing chunks.

I am not disappointed.

I must now go wash my hands.
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Post by JimVH » Wed Jan 22, 2014 7:18 pm


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Post by mont974x4 » Wed Jan 22, 2014 8:17 pm

We were up most of last night with one kid with a case of the pukes. It seems to be a bug making its way through other families in town. It seems to wait a couple of days after exposure to kick in.

So, one member of the family is done with it. We shall see who of the remaining three is next. It's a good thing we have three toilets in the house.


I hope it doesn't mess up our ski day on Friday.
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Post by TNLawPiper » Wed Jan 22, 2014 10:57 pm

horking on the highway


Now THIS is moniker worthy.

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Post by AFRS » Thu Jan 23, 2014 3:35 pm

LushMojo wrote:
james-owen wrote:I love this thread.
This thread loves you, J-O.
You guys and this thread - get a room!

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Post by coco » Thu Jan 23, 2014 4:17 pm

TNLawPiper wrote:
horking on the highway


Now THIS is moniker worthy.
Sung to the tune of "Flirtin' with Disaster" by Molly Hatchet:

Been travelin' down the road and now I'm horkin' on the highway
Had the pedal to the floor, but my stomach was churning faster
Now I'm out of lunch, out of hope, 'cause I gushed like an eruption
Well, how much more can I take with all of this expulsion?
Last edited by coco on Thu Jan 23, 2014 4:25 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Post by JudgeRusty » Thu Jan 23, 2014 4:22 pm

With a family history of stomach ailments, the list is long and glorious.

One of the earliest I remember was puking up a whole bunch of Cella's chocolate covered cherries when I was about 4 or 5. I have not liked cherries at all since, don't remember if I liked them much before.

I also had C-Diff a few years ago, bad news. (that reminds me, I could fill a whole thread with diarrhea stories)

My older son who inherited the bad stomach and gets carsick on top of that has developed an expertise in this area.
He puked on the short ride to football practice every day from the 8th grade through the 10th grade.
At the opening kickoff of a high school football game, he was on the kickoff team. Just as the ball was tee-ed up, he backed off the kickoff line, tipped his facemask back and puked. He quickly returned to the line, the ref asked if he was ok and he nodded and they kicked off.
During a basketball tournament, he approached the mid circle for the opening tip off and the ref stepped in for the tip toss and Hudson said "hang-on a second", then sprinted to the end of the court where there was a industrial sized trash can near the exit, puked, then sprinted back to mid court and told the ref--"OK, go ahead."
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Post by Jared » Thu Jan 23, 2014 7:47 pm

know all to well the joys of fatherhood and apparently having kids changes things (at least with me, not the wife). my puke story though goes as follows:

I was at home after a morning shift at work and was laying on the couch watching tv and that all to familiar feeling hit. for some reason I didn't feel that I could make it to the bathroom down the hall so I made a b-line to the kitchen. well I didn't make it to the trash bag (long story) and called ralph in to the sink and didn't quite get it all in the sink but didn't know it and waited a few minutes to regain composure. I was walking back to the couch with I hit an apparent unknown puddle and slipped flat on my but into said puddle, well, all I could do was laugh and about that time mom yelled at me from their room and asked what was wrong and I told her and she freaked out and sent dad to check on me and his famous words were "I think the boy's alright and he's got it taken care of" without missing beat.
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Post by hugodrax » Thu Jan 23, 2014 8:33 pm

As a child, my nickname was Vomitron.

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Post by fiddlestix » Thu Jan 23, 2014 10:03 pm

We have 5 kids... If there's one thing I have in spades, it's puke stories. There is one particular night that will forever linger in infamy in the fiddlestix family.

About a year ago, I came home from work to my wife who promptly told me that she hadn't felt great all day and hadn't felt like cooking a big dinner. She had whipped up a quick batch of Jiffy cornbread muffins with cut up hot dogs and cheese in them for the kids and she and I were to eat leftovers. She typically cooks a nice meal most nights, so I knew she must have really not felt well. We all ate and the kids devoured the muffins. And scene...

Two hours later, after just getting everyone off to bed, my little girl entered our room and informed us that she thought she was going to throw up. She was correct. Before the words had a chance to clear her lips, a high pressure, fire hose-esq, stream of slimy, yellow corn meal and unmasticated frankfurter chunks was expelled across our bedroom floor. I jumped to my feet as though I was somehow going to catch it all mid air.

The sight alone was enough to send my already queezy wife sprinting to the bath room to jettison her dinner. You know who was left to clean up the mess.

During the clean up, I heard the #2 son moaning from his bed. I hastily grabbed a trash can and ran in the boys room to see him up and headed toward the ladder at the end of his bunk bed. Just as he reached the ladder to climb down, he evacuated his innards from the top bunk in an impressive stream that landed neatly in a 24" long plastic tote of Legos.

About that time, the then 1 year old let out a faint little whimper from his crib down the hall. I paused, to see if there would be any subsequent commotion from his room, but when I didn't hear anything else, I resumed my janitorial duties.

This whole time, my wife, who had long ago emptied, was dry heaving in the master bathroom, creating a lovely soundtrack for the evening. As I cleaned, the thought somehow entered my head that it might be worth while to peek into the baby's room to see if all was well. When I did, he promptly popped up in his crib without even a hint of a cry, to reveal that he had not only puked in his crib, but apparently also rolled around in it contently for the better part of 15 minutes while I was cleaning corn meal, hotdog chunks and stomach acid out of approximately 2 million Legos.

His head was completely coated. One eye was completely obscured by the vile paste he had just filled his own bed with. For the record, cornmeal puke may be one of the most challenging things I've had to try to get out of a childs ears in the bath tub in all my years of parenthood.

I spent the balance of the night sitting in a circle in front of the fireplaces with a bucket trying to catch as much as possible of the remaining muffin spew. The evening was topped off by the baby picking up my iPhone while I was holding the bucket for one of his siblings and dropping it in the glass of water I had poured for myself between incidents.

Believe it or not, every single bit of this story is the truth... Worst night ever.

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Post by ArtGuy » Fri Jan 24, 2014 10:50 am

When I was 17 going into my senior year of high school I puked on my neighbors front porch.

I was leaving to go overseas for the summer the next day. My friend Roy had decided to see me off after he was finished working. Roy worked third shift so we started drinking at 10am or so. By 4pm Roy dropped me off at my house pretty bombed.

I got out of Roys car and made a staggered diagonal line straight across my yard to the Emmerson's house next door. I tried the front door and it was locked so I rang the doorbell. I looked up into the second floor window and could see my neighbors entire family looking at me, Frankie (the Dad), Shaun (he was about 9 or so), Tonya ( she was probably 14) and Frankie's wife Theresa. Their faces were a range of emotions from anger, amusement, concern and disappointment.

I stood there for for a few seconds contemplating such things as, "Why are they not letting me in?" and "why are they in my house?".... "Wait, my house is not green, and its a single story ranch"

As I looked over to see my parents house standing proudly 15 yards to the right, I gathered myself as much as I could. It was time to play it cool. I opened my mouth to say something calm and cool like, "Why, I must be at the wrong house, my appologies, carry on"

However all that came out was... "BWwwwwaaaaaaaacccckkkk" all over their front porch. I could hear Frankie yell "Son of a !#@$" as I made my escape across the yard.

It was then that a second friend of mine, John Hoem, came driving up in his pickup truck. Seeing that i was in distress, he offered me a ride. He would not let me inside the truck so I hopped in the bed and we sped away leaving Frankie slipping and sliding on his front steps.

The next day I was on a plane headed to Stockholm with 20 other hungover 17 year old soccer players. When I got back, not a word was said. I still do not know if Frankie ever told my old man.
John

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Post by JimVH » Fri Jan 24, 2014 11:11 am

Most of my puke stories involve being thrown-up on by patients, like the 13 year old who got drunk after cheerleader tryouts, who, after hurling her vodka marinated french fires on me, was concerned about whether or not her toes were pointed as she did it. On the way to the hospital she looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, "I hate throwing-up in this dress."

Another was a firefighter friend of mine we were treating for heat exhaustion. As I sat on the bench next to the stretcher my pant leg had come up over the top of my uniform boot. He rolled towards me, looked me in the eye, and faster than I could react filled my boot full of gut chowder. Who knew it could happen that fast.

I could go on...

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