ACF After-Aftermath
This time, I was awakened in the middle of the night by the sound of heaving from the bathroom.
Surprise, surprise. My roommate drank too much during the Arts County Fair. I don't understand how people can lack so much restraint as to drink their way to nausea. Isn't the feeling of sickness sufficient negative feedback to tell them to stop? I guess when you're that drunk, not even getting a rusty vinegar-coated screwdriver stuck into your eyeball is sufficient negative feedback.
I've only gone as far as an unpleasant throbbing hangover on a few occasions. The only times I've ever engaged in alcohol-related vomiting was when I was tactfully forced to down a tumbler full of straight vodka for a Russian brother, and when I was stupid enough to down a foot-long cheesesteak into a stomach already occupied with copious amounts of cocktails.
The sound of the shower running marked the reprieve. However, I nearly slipped on the bathroom floor this morning. Can't he dry his feet so he doesn't leave the bathroom like a lake? All you have to do is stand on one foot, hold both ends of your towel, and run the towel across the sole of your foot in the same motion that you use to dry the unreachable parts of your back. Oh wait, if that drunk fool could stand on one foot, he'd probably also be able to pass a sobriety test to avoid being busted for DUI. Worst of all, I was revolted at the sight of dried puke on the toilet, caked on the inner surface of the bowl and under the seat to greet my ass the next morning.
But then again, my roommates are disgusting enough to bring food into the toilet in one form or another.
Surprise, surprise. My roommate drank too much during the Arts County Fair. I don't understand how people can lack so much restraint as to drink their way to nausea. Isn't the feeling of sickness sufficient negative feedback to tell them to stop? I guess when you're that drunk, not even getting a rusty vinegar-coated screwdriver stuck into your eyeball is sufficient negative feedback.
I've only gone as far as an unpleasant throbbing hangover on a few occasions. The only times I've ever engaged in alcohol-related vomiting was when I was tactfully forced to down a tumbler full of straight vodka for a Russian brother, and when I was stupid enough to down a foot-long cheesesteak into a stomach already occupied with copious amounts of cocktails.
The sound of the shower running marked the reprieve. However, I nearly slipped on the bathroom floor this morning. Can't he dry his feet so he doesn't leave the bathroom like a lake? All you have to do is stand on one foot, hold both ends of your towel, and run the towel across the sole of your foot in the same motion that you use to dry the unreachable parts of your back. Oh wait, if that drunk fool could stand on one foot, he'd probably also be able to pass a sobriety test to avoid being busted for DUI. Worst of all, I was revolted at the sight of dried puke on the toilet, caked on the inner surface of the bowl and under the seat to greet my ass the next morning.
But then again, my roommates are disgusting enough to bring food into the toilet in one form or another.
posted by Cosmic Ocean at 8:38 PM
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