Okay, I’m not hungover. And I hope you’re not hungover. But I was incredibly sleepy this morning, which looks pretty much the same (splotchy, dry skin… puffy, tired eyes… an overall ‘I made a mistake’ demeanor…) and requires nearly identical treatment.
Funny story about hangovers, and by that, I really mean a sad story about birthdays. There was once a time when my hangovers seemed logical. If you have X-amount of drinks, you feel Y-level of shitty the next day, and you take Z-amount of pain medication. It’s like alcohol-infused algebra. And then, on the eve of my 24th birthday, I had two glasses of rum punch: one with dinner and one after, over the course of almost three hours. I had tried this rum punch before, and while it wasn’t my favorite drink, it was consistently the same—side note, my mother once tried it while we were out to dinner and said it tasted like “Kool-Aid and grain alcohol,” which was probably pretty accurate. Two back-to-back wouldn’t have been strong enough to get drunk, let alone one with dinner and another later on. But, alas, despite this sincere lack of drunkness, the hangover was there in full-force in the morning. And that, dear friends, is why when Lance said “It’s your birthday; I’ll get you lunch anywhere you want,” I said “Auntie Anne’s.” Damn you, hangovers.
Missing from list: greasy Chinese take-out food, onion rings, overly-thick pancakes with very little syrup.
What’s your secret fix?