Dante Puked Blood Once

I’m not a puker. I’ve seen a lot of gnarly stuff that would make anyone else throw up their soul but it doesn’t phase me. The last time I threw up was in like 2007 while working at the hospital. I got food poisoning and threw up for about five days. I now know that’s not normal. This is the tale of me puking at a party.

"Oh, my God! Dante's throwing up!"

And so began the end of the streak. See, I hadn't thrown up since I ate this greasy licorice my mother bought from Ralph's. As a child I puked all the time and every Halloween when my mother would give me castor oil to keep me from getting sick from the candy. As soon as it hit my tongue I would vomit.

The greasy licorice was at the beginning of high school. I ate it knowing it was weird and took a nap. I woke up like “I feel weird…” and walked into the bathroom knowing what was about to happen. I hadn’t done it in years so I assumed vomit would come out my nose. It didn’t thankfully.

This time it was purely alcohol induced. By the end of the night I had ruined my pants, my friends shoes, and my record.

The night started great. Another one of the fun parties hosted by two friends at their old place over on Beverly. I believe that one was going for her bartender's license at the time so she was making the drinks. I had some of her sangria (the first real kind I ever had) and downed it before going for a second.

This was awesome.

I decided to have a couple of beers on top of that followed by a few shots of tequila. And some vodka. And some more sangria. And then some whiskey. Then I added a red Solo cup of pure vodka to the mix. Bad ideas were on my mind this entire night. I swear, if someone had tried to rape my sweet virgin ass there would've been nothing I could do about it.

I was feeling good about life. I was drunk off my ass and walking around talking to people. I somehow ended up in a friends room watching folks play drums.

"Ooh, let me play!"

And so begins to downward spiral.

I sat down and started banging on the things like a lunatic while holding the cup of vodka with my teeth. When I wanted some more I would just tilt my head back and keep the party going. Eventually this chick asked if she could play. I was like "Sure" and got up.

I wandered into one of my friends room and laid down on her bed. Surprisingly there was no one in there trying to make out. So there I am just being there enjoying my drunkenness, listening to people pound on the bathroom door. Some people came into the room and jumped on the bed or flipped the light switch on and off. And then I heard something that pushed me from being drunk to being disgusted.

"Hey! (insert ex's name) is here!"

Vomit. I puked on my hand, my leg, my friends shoes. It just came out like a volcano. Not an explosive one, but it just came out. I don't know how long I had been sitting there like that. Someone opened the door and shouted, "Oh, my God! Dante's throwing up!"

"What?!"

"Dante never throws up!"

But I did. I was led to the bathroom. The rest of the night is a series of mixed images, vague recollections, and parts filled in by eyewitnesses reports.

I remember being in the bathroom and washing my mouth out.

(my friend said I kept saying "My body betrayed me")

I recall telling my friends the number for the cab company I like using.

(I don't know what cab company they called but it was ghetto as hell)

I remember standing outside near the bushes.

(one friend said I was trying to walk into the bushes like I was opening a door, but in my defense she doesn't know that I live in a Narnia type world where bushes and shit led to magical worlds!)

The rest of this happens in more clips of memory.

I recall getting into the cab and actually thinking, "This cab looks janky…"

I woke up just as I reached my place.

No, I don't remember telling him where I lived.

I don't remember paying him.

I don't remember finding my keys to get to my place (there are three doors and two locks to get in here).

I opened the door and saw my leather couch and thought to myself "That looks cold…" before slamming onto it. I was very hot.

I woke up at some point and vomited a lot of blood.

A little later did it again.

Woke up at 7am fresh as a rose.

Seriously, I got up feeling perfectly fine. I washed the floor and took a shower. I looked at my clothes and was like, "Oh, this is bad." I ate some Fruity Pebbles and visited downstairs with some co-workers.

Later that day I had messages from concerned friends. They thought I had died or something. I told them that I was fine and they filled in the blanks for me. I apologized for ruining my friends shoes. She said they smelled horrible.

The moral of the story is if an ex shows up try not to throw up on your good friend's shit. I have had two nights where things came in bits and pieces (the other involved me singing the Duke's of Hazard theme song out loud at a bar). Oh, and don't mix sangria and anything.