If you can't handle vomit memories, perhaps you should go read some Laura Ingalls instead

I was just reading my blogs, and Chunks mentioned Star Jones, and I've just reacted violently. I just think the bitch is the grossest thing this side of Tanya Tucker. Honestly, can you say frogface? Oh, I'm being mean, but she's just so annoying and cocky and full of bullshit.
So tonight, we went to the inlaws for a hot tub, and we had the dog with us and we were driving around on the way home in hopes that the kids would fall asleep, and the fucking dog pukes like a frigging motherfucker (I am swearing tonight, I don't want to hear about it) all over the van. I mean, I don't rightly know if I have ever puked that much, so I have no idea where it came from. I had given her a couple weiners as a treat earlier, and it was two huge piles of weiners and such. Ugh, so I had to deal with that. And there is something about dog and cat puke that I just can't handle. Well, not like I like to parade around in other types of vomit, but pet vomit is just especially gross.
Speaking of vomit, I will always have a soft spot in my heart for Margo for being kind to me as I vomited one time. You see, I am not a vomiter. However, I have always had an irrational fear of vomiting. I know I have posted this all before because I have deja vu again, but, well, consider this post a rerun then. Anyway, I spent my childhood in fear of vomiting, and I suppose I would puke once a year or something. Well, the last time I threw up as a youth from the flu was when I was 15 - I remember it well. I had eaten pizza the night before (didn't eat it for almost 2 years after that) and had went out and bought Philip Bailey's album Walking on the Chinese Wall that night because I really liked his duet "Easy Lover" with Phil Collins (but buying the whole album? I was fucking crazier than Star Jones to do that). Anyway, I woke up in next morning and sat there with a garbage can and puked as I watched Cher on Donahue.
So, that was the last time I puked from a stomach bug. I puked a few times when drunk or hung over, but that doesn't really count, because when drunk, you don't really suffer the trauma as much, and hung over, my stomach would be empty anyway, and I'd puke up a thimble full of water and then be right as rain. And, in those situations, it only happened a few times. I remember puking one night after drinking a whole bunch of Extra Old Stock, which was really like malt liquor that hillbillies drink - it had more alcohol than beer, so we gave it a try, and I remember only drinking 6 of them, and coming home and just getting hit with this wave of grossness, bending over, puking in the dishwasher, and then I made myself a sandwich. I remember another time throwing up at Ruby's house after drinking a whole bunch of rye following a week when we partied every night (I'll tell that story maybe this weekend), and again, felt fine right after that. I also threw up two or three times hung over - I remember waking up in the middle of the night, being nauseated and lying there moaning, listening to the radio all night long and praying and praying to God to make me better, all the while drinking sips of water and chewing rolaids. Well, near dawn, I'd puke up a little rolaid water, and it would be all hunk dory.
But then came the fateful night. Picture it - 1988, late fall. I had gone back to take a highschool chemistry class over, because I for some reason thought I would need it to succeed in life. I actually WAS succeeding, being an older student and all. I had a midterm the next day, and we had this really mean intern named Mrs. Neybermeyer - or that's what I apparently called her all night. So, I went for coffee with a few friends late in the day and somehow, I don't really know, we went down to Margo's with this 26 of Southern Comfort. Well, me and this friend of ours, let's call her Clara, were going to drink this bottle and I mean, I didn't plan on getting really drunk. Margo and the rest of the gang who were there didn't have beer yet, and me and Clara crack open the bottle and I just start drinking shots and Clara had none - she sent Margo to get another one when she got her beer. And, somehow, in 20 mins ( i remember this part - it was 6:30 when we got there, and 6:50 when it was empty), I drank the damn thing. Margo had gone to get beer in the meantime and she came back as soon as I finished the bottle and she was looking at me, and in her typical fashion said "holy fuck" and went about her business. In my defense, I didn't mean to do it, but it tasted good and it happened too fast. Well, I am so twisted all of a sudden, and apparently, I started talking about having relations with Lisa Bonet, and this arsehole there, let's call him Blaine, kept saying "would you fuck her if she had AIDS?" and I apprently yelled, "I'd fuck her if she had rooster's disease!" (whatever that is) and then Blaine kept saying "she's a hairy ass bitch" because she was just in ROlling Stone and was naked and had a hairy ass or something, and I was yelling and on and on - it really went downhill from there - and Lisa Bonet really WAS a freak - it was Denise Huxtable I liked, not that crazy-ass Lenny Kravitz/Romeo Blue marrying hippie - I kept telling Clara she had to call Miss Neibermeyer in the morning and pretend she was my mom because I was going to miss the midterm - and I DO remember at 7:30 somehow standing up to go to the bathroom and falling into Margo's shower, and then sitting down on the toilet with my head in my lap. Margo came in and I guess I said I was going to puke so she told me to get on the floor, but I wanted to sit on the toilet and wanted a bowl, so the dear gets me the bowl, and I end up puking, and she goes to dump it in the sink, and there was some toilet paper in the sink, and so she has to put her hand in my vomit to unplug the sink. She then led me to the couch, where I slept until about 10, and then I remember Clara feeding me a peanut butter sandwich and someone driving me home. I had no idea what the hell happened, but I got up in the morning and wondered why I stunk like puke. It was a low point in my life, let me tell you. But that's what friends are for, indeed. God love you, Margo.
One funny quick puke story - so I was like Seinfeld, and didn't have a non-drinking related vomit from 1985 until 2002. But in 2002, I woke up one summer morning all queasy, and thought I was going to die. Well, after being all gross feeling all morning, I get up to, well, to put it bluntly, shit my guts out. So I am sitting there hoping that would make me feel better when I got that tight bubbly feeling in my throat and knew I was going to puke, so I yell to Rachel to get me a bowl, that I was going to puke. So she is on the phone with her sister and brings me a bowl and I hear her say "he's never puked in all the years we've been together, I gotta see this" and I kick her out of the bathroom and stand up, walk over to the sink, and then puke. Well, all the fear comes back from childhood, and you know how you feel like you will suffocate? So I heave, then I say in this loud, gravelly voice "NO MORE!" and heave again and again yell "No more!" and I hear my lovely wife laughing her ass off in the livingroom on the phone, so she comes in ,and of course thinks I am completely mental because I am in the bathroom and instead of throwing up in toilet I ask for a bowl, but instead of using the bowl, I puke in the sink. I am an enigma, folks!
Sorry for the gross post, but look what some dog puke brings out in you.
I better get to bed - my wife just woke up from the couch, sat up, and said frantically "Where did I fall asleep?!?" and now I can stop laughing. You have to be here I guess.
So, here's to another 17 years without throwing up....
Have a good Saturday, folks!
JT