Thirsty Thursdays are excellent but often result in a big case of the Friday morning hangover. Dear lord there is nothing worse.
Let’s review the symptoms:
- Your head is pounding
- You’ve got the spins to the point where you try and focus on a stationary object, or plant your foot on the floor beside your bed to steady yourself.
- Nausea… or you’ve booted already, and/or dry heaves
- Everything is too bright – note: overhead lighting is Feinberg enemy numero uno
- The very mention of any form of booze makes you want to faint
- Memory is shot (TH #1)
- You look in the mirror and see a dishevled tranny – and smell like one too (Marjorie/Beez)
Feinbergs get ’em real bad. So bad in fact, that anxiety usually latches on to this laundry list of feeling badness manifesting in what we like to call “the icks” or “the sads.” Waking up in Betsy’s Nolita frat cave apartment intensifies this further, so here’s what we’ve learned to fix this clusterfuck FAST:
Excedrin – Beezy addressed this already, but this shiz works. If you run out, try Midol.
Evian – Call me a snob but something about fancy water seems more effective.
Chipotle – Grub it out, y’all. Let the burrito bowl work its magic.
Nappity Nap Time – Pop in a pleasant movie with cheerful sub-plots and cute menz and then pass the F out. No liars, chase scenes, or complicated story lines. I suggest the Babysitter’s Club, Annie, or Showgirls. Nothing soothes like a Ginger or some Jesse Spano!
Shower – the classic mistake idiots make when they’re hung ov is basking in their own nastyness and wallowing in the icky. The sooner wash the weave, the better. *COUGH* B&M! *COUGH*
Enya – Thrown on a silky eye mask and listen to Orinoco Flow. Some zen Irish wonder right there.
Glacier Freeze Gatorade – It might make you vom even worse, but if not, this one is the only ‘rade option that doesn’t remind me or pee pee.
And BOOM, you’re right as rain. You’re welcome.