You sorta feel like vomming right now, eh? An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of yak the next morning after a long weekend of drinking — but maybe you didn’t remember in time; it’s too late, and your head is in the toilet.
When you think about it — and we’re gonna do that right now — just the food you ate in honor of the Fourth of July is enough to make your stomach turn like a drunk on ice skates. Noshing on burgers and brats and cake and ribs and 4 tons of potato chips is enough to get the old gut a spinnin’. And then you went and mixed it all up dancing with the cutie in the flag thong and Civil War beard doing that weird Lord of the Dance/Lambada move under the fireworks.
(I know, sweetie; it seemed like a good idea at the time. Beer goggles are a bitch.)
Now you’re worried about tomorrow: working in your cube farm, or taking a summer class, or going to your PowerStepKickAnaerobicTaiChiLifting class, trying to act like a normal person.
Fret not — I’ve got some sweet-ass-sweet hangover cures.
My own hangovers are alleviated at the Village Coffee Shop (breakfast burrito in green chili, brick of shiny hash browns and cold Coke with the pebble ice). If I can make it up the hill, the Sundance Café in Nederland (No. 2, CB sauce on the side, Bloody Mary) is always great, but sometimes I then need to recover from the Sundance.
I don’t understand the science behind it, but putting bad food in my belly seems to fix hangover gut rot. Like the new bully in town, the morning’s bad food pins last night’s food down, telling it to stay where it is, and probably calling it a little crybaby.
But diner food will do you no good if you can’t leave the comfort of the bathroom tiles just now.
It’s OK. Can you crawl to a lemon? Supposedly in Puerto Rico, if you rub half a lemon under your drinking arm, you’ll be good to go. (You don’t need to be in Puerto Rico for this to work, and the other half the lemon could be used in water, which you most certainly need, or for rubbing all over the rest of you, in case a shower isn’t going to happen for a bit.)
Perhaps you have some Lamprey suckerfish lying around. Boil that in wine and its own blood, serve with toast and rice, and bam! Your hangover is ended — although maybe because you just puked up everything you ever ate, ever. (Thanks, Certain Parts of Portugal!)
After a late night partying, folks in Mongolia like to have pickled sheep’s eyes in tomato juice. (See how we’re edging ever so closer to the Bloody? No? You’re edging ever so closer to the loo? Sawwry!)
But hey, maybe you don’t feel like hurling. Maybe your head just hurts so bad you’re seeing everything in doubles. doubles.
That’s because your kidney packed his bags and left you for a younger, funnier alcoholic last night; your brain subsequently shriveled up from dehydration and shame. Yeah, it’s literally smaller than it was before you started downing the Millers and now rattles about in your head like a dried piece of ABC gum. (A rocket scientist told me this, so it’s true, and I don’t have to back it up with research.)
No amount of Coke in pebble ice, or No. 2s with or without the CB Sauce is going to fix ABC Gum Brain, or ABCGB — which I just made up. You’re going to have to drink a ton of water, pop an ibuprofen or two and have a lie-down right where you are, on the bathroom floor, or the yoga mat, or under your desk. desk.