The Hangover

My friend just turned 28. Because I'm a few years older, I take pleasure in reminding her how close to 30 she's getting. She hates that. But I think when she does turn thirty she'll take it in stride just to piss me off. When I turned thirty it took me a month to be able to say my age out loud. She still gasps when I admit it openly.

So she had a birthday party. Since she lives in the same building as I do, this makes for a very uncomplicated but messy elevator ride home. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The party was planned weeks in advance via a facebook invitation. It's always a little nerve wracking to watch a guest-list develop and according to facebook there was only supposed to be like 7 guests, all of whom were girls. And though there is nothing wrong with a good old-fashioned hen-party, I'm very glad that the boys did show up. It cut back on the recurrance of reproductive issues in most conversations.

So because I live 5 floors beneath my friend, I got blattered! I had a great time. I was the resident head-hunter, hiccough curer, and dance party starter. Though I'm not sure if you could call me demanding my more coordinated friends teach me to ball change, grapevine and box step would qualify as a true "dance party". Some of us were attempting to dance and I believe I was a major player in that activity - from what I remember.

All in all a great night. But oh, I know you can commiserate with me when I say - "Why do I do this to myself?" I woke up the next morning with black liquid eyeliner rimming my eyes like a racoon. At the time the worst thing about my state was that I felt like I had just finished licking the furry balls of a cat who relieves himself regularly in an ash-filled litterbox. Other than that I was hungry but otherwise fine.

So breakfast. Oh greasy bacon, egg yoke and peanut butter on toast! Thou art my saviour in my darkest ugliest times! When breakfast was finished I thought all would be well, but when I stood up I realized that the entire lower portion of my body had begun to cramp and stiffen painfully. I walked home as if I had just gotten off a horse. I used this as an excuse to lay on my couch for most of the day watching British soap operas and procrastinating my homework.

By nine o'clock I managed to finish my homework and groan my sad 30 year old self into bed - thanking god that the hangover would certainly be gone by the next day.

It wasn't.

Since when do hangovers last two-days? In my experience the hangover should be doled out in equal portions to the amount of partying. I've had 2 day hangovers, but that was only because I had partied for 2 days straight! 2 day hangovers should only occur if you've had more than 4 different types of alcohol. I was drinking red-wine exclusively! So where did today's gut-rot and blinding headache come from?

Is this karmic retribution for my light-hearted teasing of my younger friend? Was I supposed to let that charming man in the tie die of hiccoughs? I don't deserve this! It's because I'm thirty isn't it? Well, my friends, it would seem that alcohol is not the good-time party-buddy we thought he was. Alcohol is a ageist jerk, and maybe I should think twice before inviting him to a party in the future!

Who am I kidding? It was probably just the onion dip.

G