Does Anyone Else Not Mind Being Hungover?
Think of all the movies you get to watch!
Hangovers aren’t so bad. Not always.
Sometimes, when a hangover isn’t squeezing your brain to make stale juice which it then sucks through a straw like a vampiric asshole; when it isn’t borrowing pots and pans from the kitchen to create an acoustic symphony of mystery and pain between your temples; when it isn’t pressing elevator buttons inside of your belly like an unsupervised toddler (vomit going up — nope, going back down — up — no down — pause on the fifth floor — up!), a hangover can almost be pleasant.
It forces the lazy-averse into a state of sloth. It’s a brilliant excuse to cancel extracurricular plans, one almost always met with empathy and understanding. It conserves water by discouraging showers. Or face washing. (That eye makeup still looks great.) Or doing dishes. In fact, during the hangover period, all chores and errands are banned. For those who refuse to admit when they’re legitimately sick because of ego-related immunity complexes (hi), hangovers entice the afflicted to stay in bed.
Certain hangovers — the fuzzy ones that come from good, weird nights with friends — remove standard morning anxieties. Festering to-do lists, awkward encounters from evenings prior and the general torture of being a human being who once in a while suspects she may actually be a sea monster (hi again) are wrapped with gauze, if only for the time being. The threat of Sunday Scaries is there, but easily shelved until later.
With the good kind of hangover, laughter comes easily. You’re tired and delirious and the lights inside your head are dimmed low. Your verbal filters and insecurities are gone and you say whatever is on your mind. You wear what feels most comfortable. You do not judge your body or wardrobe or your bank account. You do very odd things because you just don’t care, probably with the not-cute kind of “messy bun” falling off your head. It looks like a drunk koala lost its balance.
You accept that drunk koala bun for what it is. You two are in this together.
Hangovers encourage you to expand your interests. With an army of at least two hundred beverages by your side, all movies sound amazing and exciting. Take this opportunity to check, “I can’t believe you haven’t seen X classic” off your list while adding esoteric documentaries that make you sound very cool and wise to your own roster.
Food is, without a doubt, the most glorious perk of a non-debilitating hangover. There is no second-guessing your cravings, no worries about nutrition percentages. There are only possibilities. Your stomach — a hungover incubator of culinary ideas greater than any currently in existence — brainstorms quickly and ferociously then seeks action: Bagel. Doritos. Bacon, egg and cheese. Nachos. Pasta. Pancakes. Fried rice. Pad Thai. Queso. Nutella. Wait, wait, no, or yes, but: all of that…together. On one plate.
Last night, you may have been an idiot. But today, you are a genius.
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