Day With Damien- Day 01

October 30, 1999

Written by: Damien LaVey
Puke, barf, vomit. Call it what you want, you know what the fuck I’m talkin’ about. I love making people do it. I usually go after someone who I’ve just met, and get along well with. It’s kinda like a bonding, initiation type of thing. I’ve made well over half of my closest friends do it. We start drinking a few beers and then shots. Lots and lots of shots! First, they start slurring their speech, then start falling over. And then, …. BLAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHH!! Barf everywhere! It’s fuckin’ great! Until it backfires, and that is just what happened to me last weekend.

My friend Maria is seeing this guy, Ken. Ken is a really cool guy. We had them and a few other friends over at my house for the De La Hoya / Trinidad fight, a BBQ, and some beers before we went out for Ken’s birthday. Me and Ken were doing shots and pounding beers long before we left for the club that he runs (a really cool place in Hollywood called ‘The Garage’). By the time that we got there, we were both pretty buzzed. I really liked the guy, and he treats Maria, (she’s like a sister to me), fuckin’ great. So I see the dude starting to stumble a bit and decide, “It’s time to bond, this guy is going to yack like a motherfucker when I get done.” Yeah, so I thought.

Well, before we all got to the club, Maria warned Ken about my little game. He was hip to me, but he went with it anyway. What I wasn’t paying attention to was the fact that a guy named Mike, who was with us, was trying to do the same thing to me as I was trying to do to Ken. This is where shit gets really ugly. Me and Ken were drinking like fish, and shooting anything that was put in front of us. And so was Mike, again, so I thought. After God knows how many rounds, I see Ken just falling everywhere. This dude literally can’t even stand up by himself without falling over. I am totally fucked up. I’m thinking, “Fuck yeah! Let’s do more! Next round is on me!” Maria asked me not to buy Ken anymore drinks because he’s going to get sick and she didn’t want to baby-sit him. This was the wrong thing to tell me.

So I order another round for me, Mike, and Ken. I got ready to pay, and Mike says, “Hey man, don’t worry about it. I got this one.” I realized by the look in his eyes and the slight grin on his face, that this fucker was trying to make me sick as well as Ken. He had been pounding too, but not even to the degree of Ken and myself. While we were doing triple and quadruple shots of Jagermeister, (so I was told the next day), this guy was only doing half and single shots. When this round came through, Maria and her friend Jolene literally carried Ken out. That left me and Mike as the only serious drinkers in our group of about ten people. Miraslov told me the next day, (I don’t even remember this part), that Mike dumped all of the shots into a 12-ounce plastic cup and through a couple of ice cubes in it. The cup was full of Jager. I complained that it was too full. Mike dumped about a shot into another cup, actually convincing me that we had equal amounts. I shot the whole fucking thing in two drinks. Now I’m FUCKED.

Miraslov tells us it’s time to go. Since he’s driving, I agree. He then informs us that he’s hungry. So Miraslov, Mike, Erica, and I walk to some hot dog stand before we head home. (This is when things get really fuzzy, and the rest of this was basically told to me by everyone else. I kinda remember parts of it, but there were many “blank spots” in my memory from here on out.) I remember trying to eat this fucking hot dog that someone bought for me. I managed to eat about half of it and smeared the other half all over my face and on the counter of the hot dog stand. This is all happening while I try not to fall off my stool, again, and again. It’s time to leave. Miraslov and Erica each grab one of my arms and walk me to the car. Mike is laughing. Someone pours me into the front passenger seat, I get the window. Mike sits behind me, Miraslov is driving, and Erica is sitting behind him. By now, I am so fucking wasted, I can’t even say, let alone spell, my own name. Everything is in triple vision and rolling up and down in front of me. I am feeling like total shit.

We get about two minutes from my house, Miraslov knows what’s going to happen. All the curbs are painted red, there’s traffic behind him, and he can’t pull over. I quickly roll down the window, and you guessed it, BLAAAAAGHHHHHHHH! Barf everywhere! And at about 70 miles an hour, it not only covered the whole passenger side of the car, but at least half of the back seat (Entirely on Mike’s side!) The entire inside of the passenger door, the headliner, and even some on the fucking back window! What a mess! I puked for almost two minutes straight, all the rest of the way home. Miraslov is laughing his ass off, Erica is terrified, and Mike is totally bummed and a little pissed since I just covered him from face to waist in 70 mph beer and hot dog barf.

Erica and Miraslov walk me to my front door, Mike is hosing himself off. Erica gets me in my room and demands I get naked, take a shower, and wash my hair. The fucking shit was everywhere. While Erica is trying to clean me up, Miraslov and Mike are literally grabbing handfuls of chunks out of the car. They finally get tired of it. Miraslov comes into my room and takes my car keys off my key ring and says, “I’m taking your car home, because you’re cleaning my car tomorrow.” I couldn’t argue, hell, I couldn’t even stand. Erica finally gets me cleaned and dressed, puts me in my bed and leaves.

The next morning, I woke up about ten a.m. I am still totally wasted. I go to take a shit just to see more dried barf all over my toilet. I don’t even remember doing it. I lay in bed, in complete misery, forcing myself to watch the Raider game, (it was worth it though, because we kicked the Vikings ass!) I got up afterwards, to check the damage I had done to Miraslov’s almost-brand new car. Fucking barf everywhere! Luckily Xerxes came by and asked me what happened. I told him. He actually volunteered to clean it up. Who was I to say no? So he did and I went back to sleep and regretted being alive for the next 24 hours. Yeah, I guess it caught up to me. It’s been a long time coming, too. Have I learned from it? Not really. Will I do it again? Probably so. I just hope it doesn’t happen again anytime in the near future.