Since it’s Labor Day weekend, let me remind you of the struggle that follows the next day after a really good night out, or if you’re a member of my family, a really good party. I’ve had more than my fair share of days that felt like the threshold of hell and all I cared about was when it was going to be 8pm so I can go to bed and forget this day that was a complete waste of my life. I did absolutely nothing thanks to getting lit the night before.
First let’s discuss what’s going through your mind when you’re about to do the damage that you’re going to pay for the next day. We’ve all had that talk with ourselves before a night of getting drunk, where we say we have to take it easy tonight, we’re only going to have a few drinks or one glass of wine with dinner because we have to take care of the kids tomorrow, we have to go to work at the ass crack of dawn, we have class at 8am, we have to take gram to the hip doctor, etc…list goes on. We have every intention of having a good time but tell ourselves that we’re alternating drinks with water and heading home early.
Fast forward to 11pm, you’re feeling good a few drinks in and about to call it a night responsibly. Then the music changes and they’re playing “No Diggity” and each and every one of your songs to follow. “That’s my song!”. And then your evil best friend buys a round of Fireball or Café Patron. There it is, the first shot. It goes down hard, but you chase it with Bud Light and suddenly it’s good. You start dancing. You immediately need a cigarette even though you don’t smoke. By the time it’s 1am, you don’t want to ever go home. You drank no water because water fucking sucks and you already peed like 700 times. You smoked 10 cigarettes, cried to a stranger about your ex and considered going home with anyone who has an “a” in their name. I realize this is more of what college looked like for most of us, but some of us have also felt something similar on mom’s night out 3 glasses of red in, a slightly more tamed version of this, but still the same principal. And if you’re chilling with any relatives of mine, you’ve had every type of drink known to man, funneled a beer or 4 or taken multiple assorted shots off an ice luge. Next thing you know you’re dragging your fabulous ass home past 2am. Thanks for having my back everyone, but at least I had a damn good time.
That first moment of payback comes around 5am when your body feels the need to wake up when you’ve only been asleep for like 2-3 hours, most. What the hell? Why why why? Ok I just need water and 3 Motrin and to go back to sleep for like an eternity and I’m good. That should do the trick. Wrong. For me I’m back up by 8am. Open my eyes, what the hell happened, what am I wearing, what day is it, shit do I have work? After I’ve got the answers down to those questions, I check my phone, did anyone text me? Better yet, did I text anyone, shit! Next it’s onto the pictures in my phone. OMG did I post this, when the hell did we take this one, no clue. Ok time to roll out of bed. I think I’m ok, yea it’s not so bad. Have some coffee sit on the couch, text the friends and say something along the lines of “Dah, I feel like death. WTF happened?”. After a morning full of group texts of recaps of last night and doing jack shit, it’s time to put yourself together. I got this. Wrong again.
It’s noon and I thought I was fine after toast and 2 Powerades, or Gatorades or Vitamin Water or whatever the hell you try to convince yourself that will give you electrolytes or some shit. A new wave of hangover hits. Wait what, I was fine 2 hours ago. This is the “aha moment” where you realize, yea I was fine because I was still drunk! Here it is, your delayed actual death hangover moment. Kill me now, just kill me. I can’t go groceries, or to the gym or clean or get my kids out of their pjs today or do anything productive whatsoever. It’s time for a nap and if you’re lucky enough you can take one. If not, you know what you gotta do. There’s only one thing on Earth that can save me at this point. We all know what that thing is. McDonald’s. Hopefully at that point, the McD’s has cured you. You could either get it down and you temporarily satisfied that bottomless pit stomach feeling you’ve had all day, or you took one bite and said “I can’t”, (the latter being my really, really, really bad hangover days, on a whole other level). Either way, I want it to be night at 4pm so I can sleep it off. Forever. Never drinking again. Never smoking a cigarette again. Two days later, work sucked, this guy’s pissing me off, I hate everyone and it’s a just an innocent happy hour….. Rinse, lather, repeat. I will never learn.
So I send you off with this message as a reminder of what’s to come when you turn up. Have a good time, make sure it’s worth it and that you are well aware that you will be a complete waste of space the next day. Drink your water, stick to one type of drink, do not take any pics and do not tell anyone any deep dark secrets about what you do when you’re alone or show anyone protected inappropriate pics saved in your phone. You will want to skull crush yourself the next day. Trust. Most of all, don’t drive! That goes without speaking. Hang your head out your bffs window while they want to kill you and wonder why they are even your friend, or call Uber. Be safe. Party your ass off, you only live once. Just remember that your hangover day does not count as an actual day of your life.