Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!
The latest TMI Thursday post involves vomiting yet again (but wait there’s more!) This is a request from the wife unit. It is the story of the immediate aftermath of our bachelor/bachelorette party. I chose this one because as the wifey said it has a bit of everything. There’s intrigue, danger, vomiting, love, drinking, and even attempted murder. Anydiddle here we go.
As I said up there this is the immediate aftermath, as in when we got home. The next day was infinitely better with my “best man” Lauren and I sitting in her car in the parking lot of CVS. This however is not that story. It is not the story of the fun of the night, the heavy (heavy!) drinking or even the getting peed on story. That may be a TMI for another night. No this starts with me stumbling up the stairs to our apartment with the wife and sister. I was clutching my notebook like it was my child. I will go back in time for a second. The Rizza the best “best man” ever had planned on getting me wasted—like a true friend—of course she succeeded in getting herself wasted too. The problem was every time I went back into the bar (we were out on the balcony) someone else gave me a shot. Now I suppose part of the problem was I made my way to the bar even when I was going to the bathroom. Needless to say I was wasted. I was beyond that. I had never drank so much in my life—there was at least 10 shots and who knows how many drinks—how I didn’t die I don’t know. Anyfiddle, we get upstairs and my wife (who is drunk too) and I are in the bathroom. I get completely buck ass naked and sit on the toilet to pee. She of course hovers over the bathtub because sitting in the tub is her answer to anything and everything. As I sit there on the toilet I begin to projectile vomit some of the nastiest looking black shit ever—mostly probably the Zwack which I forced the bartender to give me though it was closed. SOOOO I’m sitting there naked spewing this X-Files black oil alien like stuff. Here is what it may have been like:
The wife who is drunk but not so drunk as to be terrified by what is happening decides to stick me in the tub. I’m naked, spewing X-Files like stuff and now in the tub. She wanted to take care of me—such true love. Now she wasn’t sure what to do so as I’m sitting there being slapped by the water she starts stuffing saltines in my mouth. I mean stuffing them in there. I’m not chewing them before she’s stuffing more in. My mouth is dry and the salty bitches are piling up in my mouth and crumbling down my stomach. I’m coughing them up and even as I am she keeps a stuffing away. So yes days before our nuptials my best man and I tried to kill me and then my soon to be wife in an attempt to help me tried to kill me. She put me to bed and then cleaned up the X-Files black oil stuff that I can only imagine was slithering toward whatever human it could find to enter. Now that is Love. One last thing I really don’t throw up that much!