5 Levels Of A Hangover

[Lourens]

One Star Hangover (*)

No pain. No real feeling of illness. You're able to function

relatively well. However, you are still parched. You can drink 5

Cokes and still feel this way. For some reason, you are craving a

steak & fries.

Two Star Hangover (**)

No pain, but something is definitely amiss. You may look okay, but

you have the mental capacity of a staple gun. The coffee you are

chugging is only increasing your rumbling gut, which is still tossing

around the fruity pancake from the 3:00 AM Waffle House excursion.

There is some definite havoc being wreaked upon your bowels.

Three Star Hangover (***)

Slight headache. Stomach feels crappy. You are definitely not

productive.

Anytime a girl walks by you gag because her perfume reminds you of

the flavored schnapps shots your alcoholic friends dared you to

drink. Life would be better right now if you were home in your bed

watching Lucy reruns.

You've had 4 cups of coffee, a gallon of water, 3 iced teas and a

diet Coke --- yet you haven't peed once.

Four Star Hangover (****)

Life sucks. Your head is throbbing. You can't speak too quickly or

else you might puke. Your boss has already lambasted you for being

late and has given you a lecture for reeking of booze. You wore nice

clothes, but that can't hide the fact that you only shaved one side

of your face.

For the ladies, it looks like you put your make-up on while riding

the bumper cars. Your eyes look like one big red vein, and even your

hair hurts. Your sphincter is in perpetual spasm, and the first of

about five bathroom trips you take during the day brings water to the

eyes of everyone who enters.

Five Star Hangover (*****)

You have a second heartbeat in your head, which is actually annoying

the employee who sits in the next cube. Vodka vapor is

seeping out of every pore and making you dizzy. You still have

toothpaste crust in the corners of your mouth from brushing your

teeth in an attempt to get the remnants of the poop fairy out.

Your body has lost the ability to generate saliva so your tongue

is suffocating you. You don't have the foggiest idea who the ###### the

stranger was passed out in your bed this morning. Any attempt to

defecate results in a fire hose like discharge of alcohol-scented

fluid with a rare 'floater' thrown in. The sole purpose of the

'floater' seems to be to splash the toilet water all over your ass.

Death sounds pretty good about right now....

[andyfletch]

6 star hangover

You arrive home and climb into bed.

Sleep comes instantly, as you were fighting it all the way home in the taxi.

You get about 2 hours sleep until the noises inside your head wake you up.

You notice that your bed has been cleared for take off and is flying relentlessly around the room.

No matter what you do you now, you're going to chuck.

You stumble out of bed and now find that your room is in a yacht under full sail.

After walking along the skirting boards on alternating walls knocking off all the pictures, you find the toilet.

If you are lucky you will remember to lift the lid before you spontaneously explode and wake the whole house up with your impersonation of walrus mating calls.

You sit there on the floor in your undies, cuddling the only friend in the world you have left (the toilet), randomly continuing to make the walrus noises, spitting, and farting. Help usually comes at this stage, even if it is short lived.

Tears stream down your face and your abdomen hurts. Help now turns into abuse and he/she usually goes back to bed leaving you there in the dark.

With your stomach totally empty, your spontaneous eruptions have died back to 15-minute intervals, but your body won't relent.

You are convinced that you are starting to turn yourself inside out and swear that you saw your tonsils shoot out of your mouth on the last occasion.

It is now dawn and you pass your disgusted partner getting up for the day as you try to climb into bed. She/he abuses you again for trying to get into bed with lumpy bits of dried vomit in your hair.

You reluctantly accept their advice and have a shower in exchange for them driving you to the hospital.

Work is simply not an option.

The whole day is spent trying to avoid anything that might make you sick again, like moving.

You vow never to touch a drop again and who knows for the next two or three hours at least you might even succeed.

OK, now hands up all those who have never had a six star hangover!!

Thought so!!

[Jai Dee]

I can relate (unfortunately) to all of them...