When the word hangover comes up in conversation most people conjure up thoughts of headaches and maybe some nausea. There are other symptoms and it’s time we bring them to light…
If one were to wiki the word hangover (and i did) one would see this… “symptoms that may include dehydration, fatigue, headache, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, weakness, elevated body temperature, hypersalivation, difficulty concentrating, anxiety, irritability, sensitivity to light and noise, erratic motor functions, and trouble sleeping.” Notice please- headaches and nausea are barely the tip of the iceberg and for some stupid reason the randomness of St. Patrick’s day always gives me the full train wreck of “oh my god, why do I feel like such a loser?why can’t I sleep?(yet why can’t I get out of bed?) why are my hands shaking and palms sweaty and holy Sh@$! It’s been almost a week and if I sniff Guinness I’m going to run as fast as i can to the nearest sink and splash cold water on my face cause if I don’t i might just jump out the window. What do you mean we’re on the first floor? So? I’ll jump out that window anyways… maybe the glass will cut me and put me out of this unending misery. You know what? screw you pal! I’m going to kick your ass as soon as I stop shaking you jerk off. Why aren’t you hung over like this you douche? Probably cause you didn’t do St. Patty’s day right, so don’t judge me you squeeky clean loser. I’M NOT IRISH EITHER!”
This brings up two other symptoms not in any dictionary be it web-based or web-ster. Theres the Hangover Demons, the voices in my head that argue incessantly (see above) - There’s also the stupid songs that just repeat over and over in my noggin at really high decibel levels. It’s never anything in good taste. This week I’ve been walking around with one of those freecreditreport.com jingles playing under everything I do. You know the ones where the guy is working at the Fish and Chips restaurant? yikes
As a night behind the bar looms I can’t help but feel like some higher power is having a laugh at my expense. I’m still twitchy, sweaty, and not sure I can handle the tequila I usually medicate myself with on Friday nights. (Jaeger then? maybe- No beer, never beer again) What more just punishment for a person who drank enough to kill a small horse than to make them smell liquor for eight hours straight? By the end of tonight I’ll be wearing that smell. It’ll be in my pores, my hair. I might as well be swimming in it. The thought of it makes me want to try and get my shift covered but then there’s that whole “rent” thing hanging over my head.
Dante wrote about the different levels of hell. I believe that my St. Patty’s behavior puts me smack into the “Glutton” category and according to our man that means that I would be stuck in the Third Circle doomed to eat my own feces for all eternity. Is this a coincidence? I feel kinda like I’m about to spend my weekend doing just that. I challenge anyone who doubts the torturous nature of bartending with a Third Circle Hangover to go out tonight and drink extremely irresponsibly. Need a suggestion on how to accomplish this? No prob
- Lets start with 8 well tequila sunrises- the sugar in the grenadine should do the trick.
- Around number 5 or 6 start sprinkling in a few shots of Southern Comfort.
- Towards the end of the night I recommend drinking a few beers to slow down your consumption. For this I would prescribe Miller High Life. (it champagne after all)
When you wake up tomorrow and feel like a gorilla pooped in your mouth, you’ll know you’re on the right track. After the vomiting and headaches begin to subside and the “I’m a bigger loser than Tanya Harding” depression kicks in, go grab yourself a brandy snifter. (or a thermos, it doesn’t matter) Pour some Hennessy in that sucker and just take a big whiff. Just imagine what it would take to make you drink that stuff. Now dump it on your head and go talk to two hundred strangers.
Hell on Earth? Possibly. Probably.
I’m off to work.
