Is your head hurting like it was hit by a bus full of tourists? Is your mouth so dry not even monsoons could re-moisturize it again? Are you perhaps in an unfamiliar place, in a strange an unknown bed, perhaps next to people that you have a vague recollection of who they might be? Fret not, it is not an alien abduction horror plot nor is it the end of the world. This my friend is, what self-proclaimed psycho-biologists call a hangover. Usually symptoms are the same, headaches with a 15 on the Richter scale, fatigue, memory loss and let’s not forget the “drunk calls”

We have all been there a few times, some are more frequently than others though. You are having a good time, drink a few beers, down it with some scotch, and then you see it, the holy mother of all drinks, Absinthe. Absinthe, or the green fairy, or the amnesia-nator, the almighty lord of drinks or the almighty prince of hangovers. As you approach to have a taste of the sweet nectary goodness of gods, you have a choice, a choice than can alter the next 10-12 hours of your life. Choose carefully. Seriously, don’t screw it up. The consequences CAN be DIRE! D-I-R-E. Sorry, my caps lock got stuck. In any case, you reach for a shot of molten happiness and puff. In the best case scenario, this is the first drink of the night and you are not preparing an alcoholic all-star meeting. Worst case scenario, streaking, drunk calls, riots, revolutions. Ok, ok ok, I may have exaggerated  a tiny bit, I know, nobody streaks anymore. You wake up, if you are lucky fully clothed AND without any permanent marker drawings all over you. The room is trashed. Then it hits you, ad when it hits you, boy does it leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

Trying to remember the night before, yeah, good luck with that, it would be easier to catch Yeti. You try and try, but the picture just won’t turn on. And then the phone calls start, friends telling you what you have done. Which can turn out to be absolutely cool, however, everyone will eventually do something either really stupid or embarrassing, chances are both at the same time. But the absolute worst thing that can happen, and this goes without any argument, trust me and millions of others who have suffered the same fate, drunk calling your ex. The dreaded self-esteem boost forces you to text, which is still good, or to call, this is a no-no, your ex. Now, if you are really lucky you will mostly say unintelligible things, however, suddenly you are a better speaker than you have ever been in your entire life. And right there, you say something completely stupid that will haunt you for the following week or so.

Alright, now that we know what has happened last night, and we are most positive aliens are not involved in any way whatsoever, damage control time. Drunk calls and messages are actually quite easy to fix, you can always just say that you were hammered so bad you didn’t know what was going on, but you and they will know. Deep down, everyone knows, there is no use denying it, drunk people say what is on their mind. Unfortunately as this might be quite true, don’t even think about retracing what you have said. Just don’t. Back off! NOW, SHOO, GET AWAY! Sorry, caps lock again.

If you have learned anything so far, is that don’t drink and drive, or something like that. Mind your drinks. If you want to avoid trips to Narnia and malicious goblins nibbling on your socks, and that sucks big time, be racist with your drinks, don’t mix them. Hangovers are a real pain in the … head. Better try to avoid them if possible, but if push comes to shove, remember that hangover is just a fancy word your body uses to tell you to DRINK WATER. Hangovers are cause by lack of fluids, however ridiculous that sounds, but drink three tall glasses of water before sleep, or if possible let someone soak you in a pool if you happen to accidentally pass out. And voila, fresh as a daisy, well not quite, more like a half-dead daisy, but still, hangover avoided.

We have all said this at one point of our hung-over morning, “I will never drink again.” Yeah, and I am the King of Queen of cheese. Just remember, be shaken, not stirred.


By Dejan Vicai



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