There are types of hangover we all go through, each associated in the main part with the alcoholic beverage we have consumed in the most part the night before. Or the day before. Or the entire week before. Depends on your level of commitment, really.
The wine hangover brings with it a dull, irritating headache – ever-present and not the sort of thing that lends itself to any air of flightiness or the ability to move much. At least in the morning. But it’s tinged with hope – and with the air of class that comes from getting rat arsed on something a step or two up from meths.
There’s the beer hangover, which brings with it the intense feeling you are about to die from a headache. It is a dirty, filthy, horrible hangover that seems to know exactly what to do to you to make it a bad follow up day to the drinking. Mainly: make your head hurt and, as a result of your head hurting, make you not be able to sleep.
And, in my experience, there’s the vodka hangover. This, if managed well enough the previous day – water consumption before bed and a chicken product to aid with its magical curative properties – can be the best of the hangovers. It can allow you to be sprightly and active the next day, barely even recognising the fact you drank enough to kill twelve children. But it teeters on the brink, and one drink too many plunges you into the absolute worst of the hangovers: nausea, sleeplessness, headache, loss of appetite, need to eat everything anyway, more nausea and a profound melancholy.
Well, I thought it was the worst of the hangovers. Then I tried to combine all of the above elements last night and discovered a new plane of hangovertitude. And I still feel like I’m suffering now. I couldn’t even focus on Match Of The Day because it was making me feel sick by moving too much. My reactions are so dulled I’m fucking bollocks at pinball. I should not have drank all of those things.
It’s a hangover so bad I’m considering dropping the whole drinking thing. And that’s something I’ve never considered before. Siiiiiiiiiiiiigh.
worthless prattle makes the world go round 