Hangovers. They are the worst enemy of people who like to have a good time. Or alcoholics. Whatever.
I have awful hangovers, always have. Much like me, my body is a drama queen and operates only in extremes- things I put in it either make me feel great or make me feel like a pile of batshit. My hangovers have gotten worse over the years, but I’ve had enough to know there are 5 stages to every single one of them and that if I can make it to stage 5, I can begin to live my life again as a normal human.
I wake up. Riley is staring me in the face.
“How are you feeling?” he says in a really nice voice.
“FINE. I’M FINE. I FEEL LIKE I COULD DO A TRIATHLON AND SAVE THE BABY SEALS AND FIGHT THE WAR AGAINST TERRORISM ALL THIS MORNING BEFORE LUNCH WHILE ALSO PAINTING MY NAILS. PLEASE GO AWAY SO I CAN DO THESE THINGS. OR SO I CAN GO BACK TO SLEEP.”
“Do you need anything?”
“YES I NEED SOME JUICE. BUT NOT BECAUSE I’M HUNGOVER. I NEED IT BECAUSE I’M AWESOME AND IT HELPS ME TO BE EVEN MORE AWESOME OF A HUMAN THAN I ALREADY AM.”
And then my nice boyfriend goes and gets me some juice and I drink it like I have never had juice before in my existence. At this point, I am still denying the fact that I did indeed drink too much the previous night and also that I am not invincible. I am still convincing myself that I love juice just that much and that I feel FINE, OK.
2. POUNDING HEADACHE.
NO MAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOP. I’m still in bed, writhing around like a sea-monster and holding my temples or the bridge of my nose because that makes it feel better but finally I have to concede that I did, in fact, yes, I did drink too much and probably some chemical is required to make this shitstorm stop that is flying around in my head.
“RILEY OH MY GOD CAN YOU GET ME SOME BC POWDER BECAUSE I THINK I AM DYING AND IF YOU DON’T WANT TO CLEAN UP YOUR DEAD GIRLFRIEND’S BODY YOU SHOULD DO AS I SAY. I WILL HAUNT YOU LATER WHEN I DIE IF YOU DON’T GET ME BC POWDER RIGHT NOW. THANK YOU, MGMT.”
If you have never had BC powder, let me tell you a little about it. It’s a little parchment paper packet that you unfold, and it has white powder in it. It looks like cocaine even though I have never seen cocaine except in 80s movies. You’re supposed to fold the paper in half and funnel the stuff into your mouth and then drink something to make it go down. Basically, it’s ground-up aspirin, and basically, it tastes like the devil himself took a huge shit in your mouth. If that’s your thing, then think of something else that is awful. If it’s not your thing, that metaphor will make more sense.
This is where the juice is very helpful- the evils of BC powder are immediately neutralized by washing it down with a few humongous gulps of delicious orange juice or Diet Coke or anything that has a taste. But I implore you- do NOT use water to wash that poopshite down. NO. If you didn’t realize this already, water has no taste to it and therefore you will taste only the wrath of the BC powder. Effective? Yes. Tasty? Not at all.
The headache starts to go away after about 10 minutes of more writhing around and holding different parts of my face so they don’t fall off from the sheer pain of the headache. Finally, I feel like a normal person without a raging ocean crashing in my forehead when suddenly the next stage comes and hits me harder than the last.
3. THE DIZZY STUPIDS.
Two things start happening in this stage of the hangover. First, I get incredibly hyper and start thinking that I can in fact do a triathlon and save baby seals and do the rest of it. Then, I actually get out of bed and WHOA. I am simultaneously as hyper and naive as a 10-year-old and have vertigo like an 80-year-old. I start running into furniture and tripping over the floor (I SWEAR TO GOD THERE’S A RIPPLE IN THE FLOOR), and my hand starts shaking when I try to hold anything. Then I start coming up with stupid ideas that will never make any sense to anyone (I COULD BE THE NEXT JESUS. YOU DON’T KNOW. I’M THE SAVIOR OF THE WORLD OK). If I ever tell you I am presently hungover while talking to you, please disregard anything I say and chalk it up to the hangover.
This is obviously the worst part of the hangover, as all of the fun effects of alcohol have faded, and my body is telling me to get rid of the poison as soon as possible. This stage lasts anywhere from 5 minutes to 8 hours, depending on how much of a little bitch my body feels like being that day (and, I guess, depending on how much I drank and whether or not I ate anything the day before…I realize that I do in fact have some part in this).
At this point, all I can do is sit around and wait for the next wave of nausea to come along and obey when it tells me to go bow down to the porcelain god. Finally, I reach some sort of mutual agreement with my stomach because then I want to
5. EAT EVERYTHING IN SIGHT, INCLUDING SALT AND SALT AND SALT AND…ALSO SALT.
At this stage, I start getting really excited about food because I remember how good it is and my stomach stops rejecting everything (yes, even water) that I put in it. Usually when I am in this stage, I will kill someone for Mexican food, or Indian food, or really any sort of ethnic food that is not American. Also that’s not true because I will eat the shit out of some Wendy’s when I have a hangover. There is generally some sort of leftover headache from all the dehydration and events of the day, but I don’t even care by then because I’m stuffing my face and am the happiest I have ever been in my life.
Oh yeah I forgot about the 6th stage. It comes days later when I
6. FORGET WHAT HANGOVERS FEEL LIKE AND DRINK TOO MUCH AGAIN.