What's grosser than gross?
During my husband's first year of medical school (about five years ago) a bunch of his college friends were in town(Boston) for the Harvard/Yale football game.
I worked all day while he went to the game with his friends. I met him and his friends at a bar/restaurant when I got off work.
By the time I met them they (with the exception of my husband) had been drinking for several hours.
The class clown of the group thought it would be funny if he got one of our friends who very rarely drinks, and can't hold her liquor, wasted. For anonymity's sake let's call her "Fallulah."
Shortly after I arrived I realized that the husband had never gone home and walked Dexter, who was about six months old at the time, and being crate trained. I wanted to kill him, but that is another story for another day.
Everyone was leaving to continue the party at the class clown's apartment. The husband and I had to go home and walk Dexter and Fallulah and our friend Joe decided to come along for the ride.
Now, before I go on to the next part of the story let me explain that the husband was driving, I was in the passenger seat, Fallulah was sitting behind me and Joe was sitting behind the husband.
Most of the twenty minute ride was great-lots of laughter. We asked Fallulah how she was feeling several times. She kept assuring us she was fine.
When we were about five blocks away from our apartment Fallulah started to make these weird gurgling sounds.
With practically no warning Fallulah started throwing up. Even though she had her seatbelt on she tried very hard to lean out the window. The problem? The window was closed. She was puking ON the window. Joe valiantly reached across her and pressed the button to roll the window down. The problem? They were child safety windows. They only went half way down. Joe now had puke on the sleeve of his jacket and Fallulah was still throwing up ON the window.
We pulled up to our apartment. Fallulah had stopped throwing up. We decided that I would take her inside and take care of her and the boys (who were both medical students and used to gross stuff) would clean the car.
I don't think anything could have prepared them for the horror that was our car. There was puke everywhere. It had even seeped into the door, so they would clean the window, roll it back down, roll it up again and there would be more vomit to clean.
Inside the apartment I was dealing with Fallulah. I stripped her vomit covered clothes off, gave her some pyjamas and put her on the couch. The husband came into the apartment to get Dexter. He let him out of the crate and realized he had peed in the crate. He started cleaning the crate.
During this time I was trying to change out of my work clothes and into some sweats so that I could help with the clean up effort.
At some point Joe came into the apartment.
Fallulah is lying on the couch.
The husband is cleaning up the crate.
Dexter is running around covered in pee.
I was standing in the bathroom trying to get dressed. I've only managed to get my sweatpants on. The door to the bathroom is open. Joe walks over to the bathroom door (no big deal, most of my friends have seen me naked) and says to me in a very calm voice "Fallulah is throwing up again."
I run out to the living room and see the most horrific scene I've ever seen, to this day.
Fallulah was still lying on the couch. Dexter (covered in pee) was on top of her eating vomit off of her chest
. She had vomited on this little metal folding table that was next to the couch. The table has all these little holes in it. There had been pictures on the table. The pictures were covered in vomit and vomit was dripping through the holes in the table
Joe gets Dexter off of Fallulah and I bring her into the bathroom. I strip off her clothes (again) and throw them in the bathtub (again). I then realize that she has vomit in her hair. I decided that she needs a shower. I wrap her in a towel and sit her on the toilet bowl. I take all of the vomit clothes and throw them in a trash bag (gagging the whole time). She starts vomiting in the sink. I can't take it anymore. I vomit a little bit in the sink too. (friends who vomit together, stay together) I turn the water on and put Fallulah in the shower. I'm standing there, topless, trying to wash the vomit out of Fallulah's hair. There are French fries and other unidentified food floating in the water. Joe is right outside the bathroom in the hallway. He is on his hands and knees trying to scrub the vomit out of our couch cushions.
He looks up at me, as I struggle to keep Fallulah upright, and he says"You guys should totally shower together."
Men- no matter what the circumstances, they only have one thing on their mind.
Seriously, leave me a message! .