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i had this episode in southern florida once.
woke up with a pounding headache, ass taste in my mouth, and two bitches in my bed (i woke up on the floor next to it). i decided the only way to not feel like shit was to psychologically convince myself that i was feelin' great. so i proceeded to boast about how awesome i felt, and give thumbs up to the girls (whose names i still do not know but convinced they are the ones revealed later in the story) and my two friends who shared the suite with me (also accompanied by bitches... where did we find these hoes?)
at this point my body wasn't convinced, and neither was my best friend steve who kept saying "yeah fuckin' right, what you had last night could put down an adult elephant for two days".
to prove him wrong i went to the wet-bar which has opened, yet unfinished (in various quantities) bottles of the following: bacardi rum, smirnoff vodka, captain morgan's, jack daniels, seagram's 7, jose cuervo especial, and some unknown brand of cachaca (which our other friend kevin boasted to be the best shit in the world and put down like water the previous night). along with the following mixers: juice of orange, v-8 juice, diet coke, cranberry juice, vitamin water, and (my personal favorite) perrier.
in a container roughly the volume of 2 liters i proceeded to mix equal parts of everything involved and after pouring myself a glass i held it up to my envious onlookers and pronounced "This, ladies and gentlemen, is the breakfast of champions!"
Two seconds is all it took to suppress the sheer fear that took over my mind as the glass inched closer to my lips. i locked my nose, opened my throat and downed the vile liquid in one tilt...
i came to the next morning, still wearing the same boxers i woke up in, the bitches gone. i didn't ask questions as steve and kevin visibly suppressed their laughter. i emptied my bladder, took a nice shower, popped a couple of tylenol and drank plenty of water. that night i resorted to beer and cocaine and could not even look at other forms of alcohol for the next couple of weeks without a strange sensation of sin and guilt.
i never found out what happened during my 24 hour absence from memory. but subsequent voice mails from two girls named Dasha & Elena told me that it couldn't have been that bad.
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I've never been completely turned off of a drink because it made me puke. I do know a few people who wont go near certain liquors because they've had bad experiences, like my friend who over-did-it a bit with bacardi and now can't drink it at all.
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