Hangover: An Interpretive Blog

My eyeballs crack open this morning. The throbbing above my left eyeball makes me shut them again, and hide behind a pillow. Oh geez. How many drinks did I have last night? I had two beers. TWO. Thinking about beer makes me queasy, but I can't help but rail against my fate. TWO FUCKING BEERS. I even had a large bottle of water in between beers, and way too much pizza. Damn, that was good pizza. Ugh, pizza, I might throw up. Shit, my head really hurts. I roll onto my left side and discover the throbbing to be less. I get out of bed and stagger into the living room, gripping my forehead, to ask my husband to bring me some orange juice and to tell him that I need a big freaking hamburger and fries NOW. After gulping the orange juice, I lie back down, groaning every time the dog jumps on me or I mistakenly roll onto my right side. Oh, no. I'd always heard that orange juice was good for a hangover, but I forgot about my sensitive stomach. Now actively wishing for death, I crawl to the bathroom and lie on the cold tiles until, finally, the orange juice exits my body spectacularly. Instant relief. After crawling back to bed, still moaning every time I even THOUGHT about moving, my beloved hubby came through. He had already brought me orange juice, then walked the dog for me even though I'd said I would do it (I lied). He then drove across town to bring me Beck's Prime, handing me a glorious container of french fries right when I thought I would die right then and there. One fry went down easily, so I reached a pale shaking hand out for a second. Damn, that salt was so good. After a few sips of life-restoring iced tea, I inhaled my 1/2 lb burger and the rest of the large fries, gulped down the 2 3/4 lb tea (that's honestly how they label them), took my ibuprofen, and rejoined the human race.

I may still be wearing my pajamas, but at least I'm alive. Pediatrics is now OVER and at least I had fun last night before I died this morning and was resurrected by an enormous hamburger.