There was this guy in college, who transferred to my school sophomore year. During his first week, we met at a fraternity party where we all had a little too much to drink. He came back to my dorm room with me to "hang out". Like many college students, he demonstrated difficulty in holding his liquor and puked all over my dorm room and continued down the hallway as well. My sorority sisters witnessed this and the poor thing has forever been named and remembered as "puke boy". Not a way to make an impression.
I never thought I would have to encounter such a disaster since that fateful night over ten years ago. But as with many things, history tends to repeat itself. Aren't I lucky!
Last night I met up with a friend that I met in Africa, a heavy night of drinking followed and a few select dive bars on the Upper East Side. Living out of the City, I offered my couch as a spot for him to crash. As he gets back to my apartment at who only knows what time (this is what four shots of jager will do), I hear him getting sick in my bathroom. I ask if he is okay and let him know that there was mouthwash in the cabinet.
I stumble out of bed a few hours later and head to the bathroom, where I find puke EVERYWHERE! Seriously! On the walls, behind the toilet, on the floor, everywhere! I have no idea how you can miss the toilet that much, but he did (that is assuming he even got anything in the toilet). I wake him up and all he can say is "I tried to clean it up." Terrible! Needless to say, he cleaned it up later and I made him buy me lunch.
And so a new Puke Boy is named...
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