HURLING RITUALS

For a male of our species, drinking too much and vomiting usually represents a private conversation between the drinker and the nearest porcelain throne. The conversation is not discrete, to say the least, and hopefully one-sided. At worst, perhaps the male must direct his effusion toward a walkway or lawn, but I think generally, in ditch or domicile, when a man hurls, he hurls alone. This is not true of the females. They conduct their nocturnal excursions and libations in packs, and when a member’s innards become too doused in ethanol, group support accompanies the pursuant yacking. Someone deals with the hair, another holds a hand or rubs the back, while the remainder chat and make small talk, occasionally responding with encouragement to the few drunken moans that fall on the comprehensible side of the word/gurgle spectrum. To hear about such behavior is surreal in the extreme, but imagine my startled fascination to witness it in person. Girls are so weird.

If you’re looking for insightful commentary without reference to vomit, perhaps you should be looking elsewhere.