6 circles of hangover hell

by wanderlustguy 3 Replies latest jw friends

  • wanderlustguy

    1st Circle: The Ducked Bullet

    No pain. No real feeling of illness. Your sleep was deep and all those

    carbo-loaded beers have gifted you with a week's worth of misplaced energy.

    During lunch you torture your less fortunate coworkers, bragging about how

    you can pound booze all night, drink warm gin out of a dirty ashtray for

    breakfast, and still show up fifteen minutes early for work. You crave a

    steak sub and a side of gravy fries.



    2nd Circle: The Thirsty Mongoloid

    No real pain, but something is definitely amiss. You look okay but you have

    the mental capacity of a staple gun. You are definitely dehydrated and after

    drinking two Gatorades you still feel that way. You feel kinda dumb and

    you notice the temporary lowering of your IQ has made you more sociable and

    less concerned with workaday worries. You crave a fruity pancake from IHOP.



    3rd Circle: The Head wound That Won't Heal

    Slight headache. Stomach is upset. You are definitely not the paradigm of a

    productive worker. Anytime a girl walks by you gag because her perfume

    reminds you of the warm gin shots you did at your friend's apartment after

    the bouncer ejected you at 1:45 a.m. Memories of bad behavior seep in and

    you cringe with shame. Life would be much, much better if you were in your

    bed with a dozen donuts and a meatball sub watching Hogan's Heroes reruns.

    You've had four cups of coffee, a gallon of water, three iced teas and a

    diet coke and you haven't peed once.



    4th Circle: The Hunchback of Cheap Champagne

    You have lost the will to live. Your head is throbbing. You can't speak too

    quickly or you'll punctuate your sentences with vomit. Your boss has already

    lambasted you for being late and reeking of booze. The clothes you put on

    won't win you any fashion awards and your face looks like a golf green mowed

    by a blind junkie (ladies, it looks like you applied your make-up with a

    shotgun). Your eyes are red enough to give your features a lizardish cast

    and your hair makes your coworkers ask if you're starting up a new wave

    band. You vaguely remember doing some really dumb and embarrassing things

    last night and you don't care. You would murder your favorite bartender for

    a foot-long Bratwurst smothered with Dijon and fried onions.



    5th Circle: Dr. Kevorkian's Dream Date

    You don't feel human, you don't even feel like a mammal. Your long morning

    shower didn't take, no amount of soap could penetrate the coat of sleaze.

    You have a second heartbeat in your head which is actually annoying the

    employees sitting near you. You're getting drunk from the vodka vapors

    seeping from every pore. You still have toothpaste crust in the corners of

    your mouth from the futile attempt to remove the taste of decaying rat. Your

    body has lost the ability to generate saliva, your tongue flops in your

    mouth like a nightmare-plagued wino thrashing around in his cardboard hooch.

    You'd cry like a baby but that would steal the last few drops of moisture

    left in your body. Death seems pretty awesome right now. You definitely

    don't remember who you were with, where you were, what you drank, and why

    there is a stranger still passed out in your bed.



    6th Circle: The Infinite Nutsmacker

    You wake up on your bathroom floor, your arms death-locked around your

    porcelain lover. You would vomit but you quite apparently took care of that

    last night, with none too good of an aim. You turn your head too quickly and

    smell the funk of 13 packs of cigarettes in your hair. Suddenly you realize

    you were smoking, but not ultra lights-some sadist handed you a pack of Pall

    Mall nonfilters and you chain-smoked them like it was your full-time job,

    telling anyone who would listen that smoking filtered cigarettes is like

    drinking whiskey through a bar rag. You look in the mirror and find the

    Ready to Rock stamp has migrated from your right hand to your forehead with

    the help of Jaeger magic. You try to rehydrate but all you can stand is

    one cupped handful of brackish tap water. You crawl into the shower and the

    coldest water fails to revive your nerve endings as you mumble solemn oaths

    of never, ever letting a single drop of evil alcohol inside your body again.

    Ever .

    If you could remember your behavior last night you would never step outside

    your apartment again, but the last thing you recall is accepting your ninth

    shot offer with the exhortation, "Fuck yes! Let's get this party started!"

    Everything after that is a black vacuum populated with shifting,

    vaguely-menacing shapes.

    Instead of yelling at you for being late, your boss solemnly invites you

    into his office to ask you if a parent or sibling passed away. Your

    super-sensitive ears pick up low talk among your coworkers about

    "interventions" and "rehab." The cute girl from accounting you've been

    flirting with for three months looks at you like you're a leprous hunchback

    who has come for her organs. You cannot bear to eat, the granola bar from

    the snack machine sticks in your craw like petrified log jammed in a

    woodchipper. You curse yourself for not calling in sick because all you can

    manage to do is sit in your chair and breathe . . . very gently.

  • ButtLight

    I cant read that all right now, my eyes hurt the way it is!

    Just drink the the next morning, its all good!

  • undercover

    I was always partial to Larry Miller's 5 levels of drinking:

    The Five Levels of Drinking
    (by Larry Miller)

    Level 1

    It's 11:00 on a weeknight, you've had a few beers. You get up to leave because it's a "school night" and your friend, who happens to be unemployed, buys another round. And you think, "as long as I get 7 hours of sleep - Cool."

    Level 2

    You argue for 20 minutes against artificial turf. Midnight.

    You get up to leave again, but at level two, a little devil appears. And now you're thinking, "Hey! I'm out with my friends! Tonight is kinda special! And as long as I get 5 hours sleep - Cool."

    Level 3

    You switch from beer to tequila. 1:00am.

    You argue for 20 minutes for artificial turf.

    Your waitress becomes the best looking girl you have ever seen.

    You love the world, and on the way to the bathroom, you buy the guy at the end of the bar a drink, just cause you like his face.

    You try to convince your friends that you could open your own bar, and everyone could live together, yeah Tommy you could cook.

    But at level three, that devil is a little bit bigger....and he's buying and tells you to that as long as you get 3 hours sleep, and a change of blood - "Cool."

    Level 4

    The Devil is life size and bartending. 2:00am.

    Last call, you order a 2 liter of rum and coke.

    You are artificial turf.

    On you way to the bathroom, you punch stranger at the end of the bar, just cause you don't like his face.

    Your busboy becomes the best looking guy you have ever seen.

    You leave the bar, after being thrown out, but luckily one of your friends knows of an after hours bar.

    And you think, “Well since I'm not going to get that much sleep anyway, you might as well ‘STAY UP ALL NIGHT!’”, it'll be good for you. Yeah! That'd be good for me. I don't mind going to that staff meeting looking like Keith Richards. Besides, as long as I get 31 hours sleep tomorrow ...................cool.

    Level 5

    After attempting to get your money back at the tattoo parlor, cause you don't know anyone named Ruby, you find yourself across state lines in an after hours bar with criminals who just got out that morning.

    The place is so bad that Devil turns in, with the lame excuse that he has a 9 o'clock with Hitler.

    You are now drinking a thick blue liquor, that you would normally see at a Klingon wedding. Your waitress, with fresh stiches in her forehead, walks by your table, and you think "Someday I'm gonna marry that girl."

    One of your friends stands up and proclaims "WE'RE DRIVING TO FLORIDA!", and then procedes to pass out on the table.

    The worst part of Level 5, SUNLIGHT, you step outside and see people going to work, jogging, taking the kids to school, and they stare at you knowing what you had just survived, and they wonder, "Who's Ruby?" Let's be honest, if you're 19, it's a victory! You've beat the night, but if you're over 30, then that sun is like God's flashlight. We all say the same prayer then, "I swear, I will never do this again (how long?) as long as I live!" And some of us have that little addition, "and this time, I mean it!"

  • willyloman

    The JWD Temperance Union meeting is now in session. I laughed 'til I cried.

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