Ok I'll tell one. Cousin's bachelor party. I was only 21. Worked all day. Hadn't eaten a thing. Get to the bar, start pounding jager and beer. I'm getting wasted. "I need to eat something, soon. Oooh...cheesesticks!"...
...so about two hours and no joke, fifteen shots of jager AFTER I ate the cheesesticks...I walk, slowly, to the restroom...and fucking hurl cheesesticks, marinara, and jager all the fuck over. I tried to stop it with my hand...imagine putting your thumb halfway over the mouth of a garden hose.
It was EVERYWHERE. I hurry up and clean myself up. Just as I'm finishing, some other dude walks in. He's like "WHAT THE FUCK!?"...me, now fully recovered and clean..I say..."Yeah, tell me about it. Fucking sick", as I shake my head and walk out.
Oh hell yeah I got your back. Fuck man, I puked in there about two months ago. Went to Roosters. Hadn't eaten all day...I'm starting to sense a pattern here. Anyway, I was already three sheets, and I order some onion petals. So I eat the onion petals. We head to Tony's. I order four shots. Two 252's and two cherry bombs. Buddy's like "I'm not taking those". Fuck. I take one of the 252's. Disaster strikes. I don't even make it to the toilet. I puked in the sink. It's all backed up. 
