In Which I Try Various Hangover Cures
MARIJUANA: Ah, the old standby. Not only does it cure everything ever (even AIDS), but it makes you act stupid. I heard a guy once say that ‘THC’ stood for ‘The Hangover Cure’ and I thought “that man is suprisingly witty” (hint: he wasn’t). So after a night of bourbon I decided to do nothing else but smoke pot to cure a hangover.
What followed was not so much a ‘cure’ as it was me playing Super Mario World for about three hours straight. I didn’t as much notice the symptoms were gone as I more or less had completely forgotten the symptoms, or even the fact that I was writing this very article. In fact, only after I ordered Thai food did I even remember that I had a hangover. It was incredible. So as a hangover cure, I give this: 9/10.
MORE ALCOHOL: I decided to drink shots of vodka until my hangover cleared up. What the hell? What the fuck are you crazy? Drink MORE? Fuck you. No, really, me, fuck you. Fuck. You.
RESULT: Imagine the worst idea you’ve ever had, and multiply it by 1000. Now take that idea and pee on it. Before I threw up in the bathroom sink I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked like Jack Nicholson’s chin. 2/10.
GREASY FOOD AND CHILDREN’S RECORDS: The whole idea behind this is that a couple of years ago after a particularly nasty break-up I lived in a dank, dreary basement apartment across the street from a daycare (I know. Very John Wayne Gacy of me, right?) and all I really did was drink and eat pizza for an entire summer. I also worked in a bar at that time, and for a good month I’d stay up until morning drinking with my Irish Catholic bar owner boss. Due to some unusual twist of fate, my window funneled every damn sound coming from that day-care, so after maybe 4 hours of sleep I’d be awakened by the sounds of The Fucking Bananas In Pajamas or some other heinous shit. It was terrible. It was worse than 9/11 and Princess Diana combined.
Ultimately I’d eat whatever was in the fridge. Because I was broke, this usually meant either mustard or pizza. I decided to give this a shot again. I spent five hard earned dollars of my own on a used Raffi cd, and another five on a large pepperoni pizza from a disreputable pizza chain.
After 3 slices I gave up, wondered why I hadn’t progressed at all in 6 years, Facebooked an ex-girlfriend, got kinda emo for a minute and decided to smoke some pot. Eventually, a little pot turned into a lottle pot. I passed out with Raffi blaring on the stereo. A bad idea. 4/10.
ABSOLUTELY NOTHING: This was the worst idea of all. I ended up staring out the window listening to sad bastard music. I did a lot of staring. Really bad idea. 1/10.
CHURCH: Due to the fact that I am a brilliant journalist that’s willing to try anything to get the story, I bit the bullet and tried church as a hangover cure. Amazingly, I had a lot of fun. I was so placid and malleable that I started getting into it. Every song sounded like Coldplay – who I hate – but when you’re in a White Person Church you kind of have to go with the flow. I mean, hey, the whole thing about being hungover is hating it/ yourself, and church at least made me forget about that for 3 hours. Also, there were free coffee and donuts, and afterward, an Xbox battle. I beat some pansy 11-year-old in a bad marigold sweater at Rock Band. He tried to high-five me. I refused to high five him back. What a dick. 6/10.
CHURCH (ON MARIJUANA): This is the best. I smoked a TON of pot and wore my aviators the entire time, gorging myself on the free donuts. Was I even at a church? I don’t remember. It was awesome. I think I cried at one point. I hugged somebody and meant it. I can’t even remember why. This is how life should be lived. 10/10.
You should follow Thought Catalog on Twitter here.
A | A | A
i inhaled deeply. your scent, your deodorant, your cologne, even your morning breath. i know these scents so well and the familiarity is comforting.
This video of a puppy watching a scene we’re so familiar with and evoking the same sentiments we once felt is oddly heartwarming, extremely precious and a dash of funny.
You died, and the hope that you would one day love us back the way we loved you died with you.
Weight Watchers likes to say that nothing tastes as good as skinny feels. Which I guess means they’ve never tasted Cinnamon Toast Crunch.