I've only blacked out a few times in my life. I never puke from drinking too much though. I once drank one and a half bottles of tequila in college and I didn't hurl at all.

Me and my dorm mate, Charlie, decided we we going to throw a bacchanal in our suite. We told everyone to bring what they wanted to get fucked up on and we will all get ripped and naked if necessary. So Charlie and I head to the discount liquor store. We each picked up a bottle of Cuervo Gold. I don't know what the official size is called but its bigger than a fifth.

Its an early spring Thursday afternoon and neither of us have classes till Monday. Can't remember why, holiday or something. So we decide to start the party before people arrive.

Half way down each of our personal bottles of rot gut the party people show up. We finish our bottles and drink some of the shit others brought as well. This is where the gap in my memory starts for that evening.

I wake up the next day, in another dorm room. Naked of course. As I begin to realise that I am not in my own bed, that my clothes are missing, and I start shaking the sleep from my eyes, I notice I am not alone in the room. Across from me on the other bed is a girl, who I still to this day don't know who she is, sitting up and holding her knees to her chest, with a worried look on her face.

Her - "Hi."

Me - "Um, hi."

Her - "Are you okay?"

Me - "No. Where am I?"

Her - "My room, my roomate brought you in here last night, and you passed out. You haven't moved since then until just now."

Me - "Super, have you seen my clothes?"

Her - "No, you arrived naked."

Me - "I see. Well I'm gonna borrow this sheet. Let your roomie know that she should come talk to me later."

Her - "Okay."

As I leave the room the door locking behind me sounds horribly forboding. I don't even know which of the three buildings my dorms consisted of I was in. Luckily I was in my own building, cause otherwise I would of had to traipse across the courtyard looking like I just got chased out of a toga party at three in the afternoon. I opted not to take the elevator, my wits were enough to know that that could be a major faux pas.

As I run down the stairs to my floor, I of course run into my RA. She wants to know what I am doing running around with nothing but a sheet. I had to tell her that I honestly didn't know. She giggled and let me continue on.

I get to my door. No keys. Beating on the door so that someone will let me in. People coming out of their rooms to see what's the ruckus. I tell them all I was molested by raging frat boys and they left me for dead, and then they should fuck off and let me pound my door down in peace. After ten minutes the door finally opens.

Charlie looks like he barely excaped death. He's got dried puke on the front of his tshirt. I probably shaked him from his booze coma by banging away and screaming. He jets for the bathroom as more vomit flings from his body.

I go to my room. There are my clothes on the floor twisted up with what looks like at least two girls sets of clothes. I imagine that many people viewed the glory that is my bare naked ass that evening. I flop on my bed and pass out again.