An Ode To A Hangover
I was pottering around this morning, thinking about hangovers (as you do at 9am as you sit in your undies on the balcony, magnifying mirror in tow, desperately seeking stray facial hairs with tweezers), when I had one of my many (stop laughing) lightbulb moments.
You know, when you realise something and your eyes get all owlish and you desperately look around in search of someone ANYONE really that will find your discovery as cool as you do.
So I was reflecting on each time I had been hungover this year to the point where I wouldn’t mind actually meeting Ivan Milat in the mere hope that he would put me out of my misery, when I realised that I HAD DONE SOMETHING I REGRET THE NIGHT BEFORE!!!!
Seriously, there have been some nights that I’ve drunk in excess the amount that a humpback whale could consume, yet after only dancing and laughing all night, I’ve woken up with a slightly throbbing head and a strange urge to shovel anything and everything grease ridden down my trap.
Whereas mornings after I’ve consumed the same if not less, but participated in activities I erm wouldn’t do when not inebriated (*cough balcony boobies anyone?), I wake up with such a stonking hangover I vow yet again that ‘I am NEVER drinking again’. This promise to myself only ever seems to last until some cheeky rascal proffers a fruity cup of bliss under my nose and I once again lose all resolve.
Then one drink turns into seven and everything is just so lovely and happy and fun that another seven seems to be the right choice. So another seven are poured on down my greedy gullet and hey presto I’m funnier than Russel Peters as I shuffle to Party Rock with oven mitts on my feet and perform my very own rendition to Bohemian
rap singer Rhapsody.
So forth come another seven vodka, lime and sodas (actually at this point I’m probably quite partial to the trusty old ‘wetttt pushhhasssss’ aka wet pussy shots), and then one of two things will happen…
Scenario 1: I will tell many more equally funny jokes. Fend of a few eligible but totally clueless bachelors after I’ve had a few bevs bought for me and had a bit of a shimmy. Bipt bopt a touch more with some of my betches. Before stumbling off home and lying awake giggling to the all hours as myself and someone else uncover the complexities of the male brain or simply frape a fellow friend who has in all silliness left her phone un-attended. Tsk, when will they learn.
Scenario 2: I perform levels of public rage, violence or inappropriate levels of nudity for no particular reason. Wince as I open my eyes and remember in the morning. AND/OR I will tell someone that actually yes INDEED their boyfriend is a massive douche. Awkward…… (Obviously these are just tame examples – I wouldn’t actually tell you all what I am ashamed of now would I ! Hehe 🙂 But you get the gist. )
With scenario one I usually wake up and giggle with the girls as we regale tales from the night before over greasy serves 0f chips and gravy and ginormous fat frozen cokes (seeeallll anyone?). Scenario two can sometimes turn into a 2 day hangover where I simply sit and rock like a walrus with my ass high in the air, as it’s the only position I can sit in without feeling like I’m about to regurgitate the small lake of alcohol still churning around in my gut.
SEE!! I told you!! Hangovers occur when you do something stupid and regret it the next day!