If the Spew Fits or Reasons to Stay Sober at His Parents House

Thanks to the delicate Ms X from...uh, east of the Mississippi for these two tales
of young love:
I very rarely drink hard booze but on my first visit to my new boyfriends parents house, whiskey was all the Dad served...long story short, couldn't find the bathroom, did find my boots
(by the door), threw up into them, put them on, and asked to be taken home. Never saw the guy again and no kiss goodnight either...hmmm must not have liked my cologne.
Now my friends story is worse. The combination was beer, a very , very small bladder, very, very big house and bad directions to the bathroom. She ended up in the laundry room and as she explained "There was just no time left, I HAD to go!" So she lowered her panties, hiked up her skirt and tried to daintly "perch" on the side of the laundry room sink...after the loud crash, the whole family (grandparents too) rushed in to find my friend drunk, on her butt, skirt up by her head, panties by her ankles and lying amidst the remains of a broken sink! It must be love, because, amazingly, they invited her back!

The Interview

Thanks to Ms F...somewhere in the midwest for sending us this "interview Date" story. I think we've all had some similar to this:

About two years ago I met a man from craigslist out for lunch. He was handsome, first-generation Polish, and arrived at the restaurant in the middle of winter on his motorcycle. As I'm wolfing down lunch (I had just been running that morning), he decided not to eat and instead, began with a long series of questions. Where are you from? What do you do? How old are you? It was a veritable interview. Midway through lunch, he turned to more personal questions such as "do you see yourself getting married one day?" and "Do you see yourself having kids?" Well, I was honest in my answers and responded that yes, I did see myself getting married and having kids....to which he replied, "do you see yourself having a boy or a girl?" I have honestly never given this much more than 5 minutes of thought in my 32 years, as I think that all kids are a blessing....and there is a pregnant pause in the conversation while I think of a nice way of saying this to him. However, I didn't have time to answer as he chimed in, "I guess it doesn't matter as long as they're white, right?"

I promptly excused myself from the table claiming duty calls, and walked out of the restaurant.

A Stain in Spain

Some years ago. a Welsh friend of mine was visiting the Spanish resort of Majorca where one morning he met a young French girl, also on vacation. They hit it off immediately and spent the day together laughing, drinking and seeing the sites. Later, after a very filling, spicy Spanish meal...and lots of Sangria, the time seemed right and he invited her back to his hotel. Arm in arm, they strolled along the beachfront to the rear of the hotel where, as a shortcut, he decided to climb over a small fence at the rear of the property. Always a gentleman, he helped the young lady over first and then attempted a manly, one handed vault to join her on the other side...it was at this point, in midair, that his bowels betrayed him. As if the loud sound (we've all heard the stepped on duck analogy) wasn't bad enough. The unmistakable feel of a growing stain in the rear of his white, linen pants, plus the look of horror on his ladyfriends face, told him the date (like the stain) was at an end.