twice the smartass, half the laughs
The Four Blogs of Christmas Part 2
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Usually, when I drink enough to get a hangover (which tends to vary depending on what I'm drinking), I am too drunk to actually do anything preventative before I pass out. If I do manage to consume some water and pain killers, it's often too little too late. My hangovers always begin the same. I wake up at some ungodly hour of the morning with pain (usually severe) behind my eyes and a burning in my gut (Delightful huh? Yeah, it gets better. and of course by this...I mean worse.) I feel sweaty, and kinda scummy, and even though I'm fairly certain that I brushed my teeth the night before, it sure doesn't taste that way. My first instinct is to get some water and pain killers in me...this is invariably a BAD idea. Do I learn? Of course not. Every time, I think that if I can just get it in me fast enough, that I'll be able to get back to sleep and sleep it off. You know how many times that has worked? Twice... I think. Maybe less. So, I lumber off to the kitchen, and wash down a couple of (insert available over the counter pain medication here) by chugging a couple of glasses of water. (Usually cold, if I can help it. That really helps with the next part.) Then, I head right back to bed and lay down (if I'm lucky the sheets will have cooled off while I was up) and wait for sleep to come. It does not. Soon, laying on my back and trying not to focus on the searing pain in my head and the (what I assume to be) lava in my gut becomes uncomfortable and, even though I know what will happen when I do, I trick myself into thinking that turning over to my side might make me more comfortable. It will, for like a millisecond. Then, my stomach thinks this act of movement is some kind of invitation to empty its burning hot contents as quickly as possible. So, up I get (in a hurry) and race to the bathroom. I steady myself in front of the bowl... and let the onslaught begin. The first couple of hurls aren't too bad comparatively. They come up pretty easily cause I just drank some water, and if it was cold water, that's even better. After that water has all come up, the next few heaves are not nearly so accommodating. By the fourth or fifth, my body is desperately straining to force out everything I have ever consumed in my lifetime. Then (and this is, for sure, the best part) the strain of the heaves makes the pain in my head exponentially worse which, in turn (you may have already figured this out) makes me have to throw up. It's an incredibly delightful round robin of pain and disgusting toilet bowl splash back. Finally, after I don't know how long of hard core puking and blinding pain broken up with brief respites of resting my sweaty, puke flecked face on the cool tile floor, I clean up the rogue splatters, brush my teeth, wipe my eyes, and go back to bed. It's awesome... really. Will I ever learn you may want to know. Well, honestly, if after however many years of doing this, I have to lean towards: NO. Actually, and here's the twisted part, when I wake up after all that, I actually usually feel pretty good. And the alternative is, in my opinion, actually worse. The alternative (if I don't do my purging ritual) is that I feel like total shit all day. What? What's that? what do you mean there's another alternative? Not drink so much you say? Yeah, okay. Maybe I'll give that a shot sometime. Hey, what do you know? Though this certainly wasn't tasteful, it actually was relatively brief. You know, by my standards anyway.

Stay tuned. Two more to go. Maybe in the next one, I'll explain what exactly in the hell I was talking about at the beginning of the first one. Maybe.

Until next time: The stockings were hung by the chimney with hopes that St. Nicholas would soon be there.