I was reminded of this story last night, and even though it's not my story to tell, I'm going to tell it anyway. I have no shame, and since names are left out, I don't feel bad about telling embarrassing stories about various people I know.
A few years ago, a guy left town to spend the holidays with his girlfriend's family. They spent the night at her brother's house, and apparently something he had eaten that day didn't agree with him. He awoke in the middle of the night with a gurgling in his stomach, and he knew it was time to go to the bathroom. So, he hurried and sat on the toilet just in time for the diarrhea to hit. He sat there until he was sure he was finished, and got up to start washing his hands when suddenly he felt the urge to vomit. So he hit his knees and hugged the toilet bowl. Unfortunately for him, the act of vomiting contracted his core muscles in such a way that we squirted more diarrhea all over the bathroom wall and the back of his legs.
He did his best to clean up the floor and wall, then jumped into the shower. While showering he had another spurt from the back end and sprayed the shower tiles. Luckily, that just washed on down the drain. He eventually got everything cleaned up and crawled back into bed. Before going back to sleep he mentioned to his girlfriend that they may need to check again in the morning to make sure he got everything.
I now greet this guy with a two handed salute that points out from the mouth with one hand, and the butt with the other hand. To many it probably looks like some juvenile variation of Saturday Night Fever, but anyone who knows the story realizes it's to symbolize the bidirectional fountain that was him on that night.
Now you know where I came up with one of my rules to live by: Always choose to clean up vomit over cleaning up diarrhea if you're forced to make such a decision.