You really can't get much more puke than that inside a door handle for a car of that particular make and model. I'd like to think that took some sort of premeditated effort. You know, Usual Suspects kind of planning of the Kevin Spacey sort. To me, the chunky menage of upchuck in the doorhandle really tells a complicated story. 

Good work, I was at the Sport's Page having conversations with old hags. I suppose a strip club would have been an upgrade. Sword of Omens, grant me sight beyond sight.