1. Drinking water
This is terrible secret to reveal but I just don’t normally drink water. Between my various addictions to double-shot lattes, Coca Cola, Charlie’s Honest Juice (DON’T WANNA DRINK THAT DISHONEST JUICE) and green tea I usually don’t have time for plain old life-sustaining water. I understand all of those drinks have water in them anyway; I’m just not the biggest fan of turning on a tap and drinking clear liquid. Come hangover though, I would be ready to walk hours across a desert for the refreshing taste of nothing. I’m not entirely sure why this only happens when I’m hungover but I do know that there are no better
solutions universal solvents (lol sciences jokes) to my hangovers.
2. Sunday Mass
This one is a new addition to my hungover adventures thanks to a church that has recently been on the way home. It’s 8.30am, I hurt, I look horrible and I have to get home in time to move my entire belongings down a flight of stairs and move back home with my mum (yes, all v. pathetic). So as I walk along examining the new bruise on my arm and what I think might be a bite mark I nearly run into a couple that could easily be in their eighties wandering out of a church.
I can’t tell if my initial reaction was more along the lines of, ‘Forgive me father, I have sinned’ or a desire to tell the couple that I was merely a representative of what their grandchildren really get up to on a Sunday morning and why they never make it over for lunch.
I should start this by saying I’m not a particularly emotional person. I think the last time I was genuinely upset I had decided it was a good idea to drunkenly watch A Single Man by myself. This may sound a tad tragic, but after sitting through 90 minutes of a permanently drunk Julianne Moore comforting Colin Firth whilst he considers suicide in Tom Ford suits, I think I was understandably shaken. Also, did I mention the part where Mr Darcy goes skinny-dipping with Tony from Skins?
Aside from semi-drunken swooning over Colin Firth and Nicholas Hoult, the only other time I’m genuinely emotional is when I’m hungover. Combining with sleep deprivation, this part of my hangover usually occurs sometime between vomiting up stomach acid and recovering enough to send out apologetic text messages to friends
trying failing to recover what’s left of my dignity. These #emotional times are usually marked by eating family sized blocks of milky bar chocolate; watching entire seasons of Will & Grace; and pretending Will & Grace is a legitimately good show. Yay emotions!
4. Seeing fourteen year old girls in short shorts
I know this sounds like a joke but I’m not even kidding, whenever I am trudging home after some seedy encounter with my smudgy make-up and silly facial expressions that represent a catalog of hazy memories I never fail to get ambushed by a swarm of teenage girls with side ponytails and short shorts. You wonder where their thighs end and bottom starts and you feel scared that it’s a police set up and you can get charged for even glancing at girls that young dressed in shorts like that.
You get sad, then you get embarrassed as you feel your hangover seeping beyond you and into the atmosphere and you reassure yourself it’s not fear in their eyes and that surely it can’t be that obvious that you are the victim of tequila shots and a drunken sex rampage.