Definition: In this task, you are given a Reddit post as a text. Your task is to generate a title for this text. The title should start with "TIFU by", followed by a situation that caused humor. The title should contain 7-12 words, ideally.
Input: Text: this was when i was 22 or so. so, it's been... a while.

i was going to college 2,000 miles away from my hometown and, by the time christmas break rolled around that first year, i was missing my best friend something fierce. we decided to hang out for new year's eve, with one stipulation: i couldn't get drunk and throw up. a little alcohol was okay, but she was absolutely adamant i was not to be vomiting. because i loved this friend and knew that she didn't drink *and* had kind of a skewed impression of my alcohol consumption habits (not her fault - trying to look cool to my friends back home on social media was a thing for me at that point), i decided it was worth it and agreed. i made it easier for myself and just abstained from drinking entirely.

the had a great night just the two of us, catching up and basking in the comfortability of our old friendship. we decided to go to a local pizza place to grab some dinner. i remember exactly what we ate - we shared a garden salad, a faux-cheese pizza with pineapple and mock duck (sounds gross, was good), and i topped it off with some tiramisu. she skipped the tiramisu because veganism/hippies. the tiramisu tasted a little weird but when you're 22 and broke, "a little weird" isn't going to stop you from eating food you've already paid for.

we get back to her house, watch the ball drop on her tiny tv, and go to sleep on the only furniture in her apartment - a futon mattress on the floor. there wasn't a whole lot in terms of amenity at her place, largely owing to it being her first solo apartment and the fact that she had become somewhat of a minimalist hippie.

anyway. i wake up at some point in the night and immediately realize something is off. the shooting pains start deep inside my gut and radiate through my chest and abdomen. i try to breathe it out for while to no avail. my lower gut gives a heaving lurch of a rumble and in that moment i realized the shit was about to hit the fucking fan.

i jump up and race to the bathroom as quickly as i can without releasing the beast within, and audibly sighed with relief when my ass landed on the freezing cold seat. 

then it happened. the worst happened. i was going to break my one and only promise that night.

in an instant i was projectile vomiting like nothing i had ever experienced before - it felt like a demon was being exorcised from my body and i was just an observer. in the same moment, hellfire began to rip through my lower body and more liquid and feces than i ever realized could fit into a human body was plastering everything within an inch of the source.

when you think you may vomit soon, the natural response is to find a bucket or position yourself in front of the toilet and wait for nature to take its course. when you realize that it is happening right now, fight or flight kicks in and you aim that shit the closest direction that makes immediate sense. 

which is why i chose to puke into the tub in front of me.

now, this all would have been well and good if it weren't for the fact that the vomiting was so intense that my entire body was being thrust forward with every spasm, uncontrollably contracting my entire midsection violently. unbeknownst to me at the time, each time i threw up, my back was being lifted high enough for me to be spattering the wall behind the toilet, the sink, the window, everything, with liquid fury. 

after about 20 minutes of this, it was as if a tornado had finally disappeared and the skies were once again clear. aside from some muscle pain, i actually felt great. for about 5 seconds until i realized what i had to do next.

i remember exactly what was on the pizza because i spent 45 minutes scooping chunks of mock duck and pineapple out of the bathtub, off of the walls of the shower, and rinsing them out of her loofa (sorry bro). the wall... oh god, the wall. because my friend was such a minimalist, the only soap in her bathroom was a tiny bottle of peppermint dr bronner's soap. no paper towels, no wash rags, just her own bath towel. i spent the next three hours meticulously cleaning, speck by god forsaken speck, off of every surface with tiny squares of toilet paper and dribbles of dr bronner's stupid "i don't lather because hippies hate sulfates" soap. 

when i was finally happy with my work, i washed my arms up to my elbows, went into the living room, and immediately called a cab and paid $50 to absent myself from any physical proof of my own shame and go home. it wasn't until about five years later i finally told her what had happened that night.

TIFU by not getting blackout drunk.