We all know how it goes, a few ‘quiet’ TQs turns into an absolute bender that finishes with a not-so-cheeky vom at Ding Dong Dang that subsequently gets you kicked out before you’re serenaded by an overzealous uber driver who now knows your address…
You kick a few things around at home, your bra somehow ends up in the most obscure spot possible and you pass out.
Then it’s time to wake up with one of these outcomes…
Hangover One: The Shame Spiral
Ahhhh the humble hangover that arrives in catastrophic waves of shame. This hangover will occur when you’ve participated in some of the below (but not exclusive) activity:
- Getting so drunk at an office party you a) throw up on your boss or b) pash Clive the Cleaner who doesn’t even work there (HE DOESN’T GO HERE) but was given a token pity invite. The shame.
- Drunkenly calling your ex (who is nothing, NOTHING but a sweaty ball sack TBH), and begging for him to come get you for ‘the beshhhhh time you’ll get with me’. Yeah, you know you were on the loudspeaker with his mates and new (hot AF) gf in the background. The shame.
- Gotten kicked out of the trashiest establishment in the area that not even Homeless man Harry is barred from because you refused to get off the bar thinking you were all ‘Coyote Ugly’ when in fact you were just some crazy drunk buffoon screeching at the bouncer ‘DON’T YOU KNOW WHO I AM’. No. No, he doesn’t know who you are. You have 358 Instagram followers you imbecile. Oh the shame.
- Deciding it’s a swell idea to steal the neighbour kid’s scooter and have a merry old time scootering around. Not that bad? NAKED. COMPLETELY BUTT NAKED. The shame.
- Wettings ones pants. OH the shame.
Activities like the above are guaranteed to result in a wake-up call where you’re so embarrassed the recollections physically cause you pain. You pull the duvet over your head and wish you could go to the ‘upside down’ a-la Stranger Things. You’d risk battling the slimey monster and Barbs sad remains for a chance to avoid your shame spiral.
Hangover Two: If Death Was Only An Option
You wake up and blearily open your eyes looking around as to gauge where you are. The floor? The couch? Your bed? SOMEONE ELSE’S BED!? The first few moments of consciousness are generally ok until you slightly move and waves of nausea wash over you along with a deepening sense of doom.
It’s the hangover of death. A Dementors kiss would be better than this shit. You end up spending the day wrapped around the loo moaning as you dry-retch up your saliva mixed in with some wine, gin and, wait is that absinthe?
Your body shakes in hot and cold flushes, your head feels like Nickelback are slowly torturing you and your entire being feels like one big sad excuse of an existence.
Time, small mouthfuls of greasy food, and rocking in the fetal position are unfortunately the only things that will help. Just hope that it doesn’t turn into…
Hangover Three: The TWO Day Hangover
Sunday night saw you finally hold down some solids, bathe and hop into bed early with a small sigh of relief knowing it would all be ok in the morning. Probably the only time on a Sunday night you actively look forward to a Monday morning.
Then life’s all like JOKES, here feel like absolute codswallop all day, on a MONDAY, while you’re at WORK.
You spend the day at the pinnacle of an irritability scale, plotting the untimely death of anyone who even slightly pisses you off. The hours tick by like minutes and the intern who brings you a coffee is met with grateful tears on par with kidney donation.
Hangover Four: Life Is Like A Spy Movie
You wake up with absolutely zero recollection of the night prior. You don’t know how you got home, your wallet is empty, phone is dead and you’re covered with unexplained bruises.
20 years ago this would have been the ideal outcome (given your friends were also spies AKA drank their body weight in whisky). Now, you just need to turn your phone on to either;
- Burst into laughter at ridiculous messages and images of all these new pals you made with no recollection of names. Then go to brunch and spend hours chuckling as you hear stories about all the hilarious things you did.
- Join the shame spiral hangover club.
Hangover Five: Hangover For Assholes
This hangover is for jerks who don’t get a hangover and can really just GTFO of my life. You know the smug type, they drink everyone under the table tenfold before waking up all spritely and ‘I’m going to Pilates’ before you throw a babushka doll at their head as another wave of nausea hits you like an NFL linebacker (not that I’d complain if it was Riggins but that’s neither here nor there).
So this weekend, when you’re lying in bed feeling sorry for yourself just remember that the struggle is real and we’ve all (mostly) been there. So pop some panadol down your gullet, cosy up in some pajamas and binge watch the godsend that is Stan.
Words by Kelly McCarren.