Pajiba

By the time I started vomiting, however, it was too late -- the alcohol had mostly metabolized, so not only was I eliminating useful moisture and not purging harmful booze, I was getting drunker as I got sick and was unable to hold down any water. After turning myself inside-out in our bathroom for five hours, I commenced hugged one of those plastic wastebaskets for two days, intermittently wailing Negro spirituals. I actually don't think I could survive that now, especially the draining of 90% of the fluid in my body. Guh. Bwuh. Pppuhh!

My but you have articulated it.

Fortunately that only lasts for me from sunup to sundown and then I'm ready for lo mein, not two days. But yeah, it's either 1 or that. I try to stick to 1.

My friend and I were very excited when "The Replacement Killers" was coming. We too thought it was Chow's grand coming out.

Alas.

I've never seen "The Corruptor", but it sounds worth a look.

What? Go to work? Oh.

One must always remember, Ted, that codeine (aftermarket or not) is an opiate. In some people, opiates cause - you guessed it! - nausea, vomiting and diarrhea.

Since if one is hungover they're ALREADY nauseous, vomiting and having the gon gons, do you really want to aggravate the condition? Oh, and it's always smart to avoid the ethanol when doing the drugs (public service announcement ends).

Apart from that aside, a hilarious post.

Interesting. I've found that codeine is hell on wheels for dealing with the unpleasant lower intestinal symptoms of Crohn's, though a high dose will cause nausea. Doctors won't prescribe it for Crohn's because it's not suitable for long-term use. But that's not what the Mexican pharmacy tells me! tb

Ummm...I've never had a hangover. I guess I'm a genetic freak. Especially since I used to work on a cruise ship and those things are nothing but booze soaked tubs waiting to drown you in alcoholic bliss. There was nothing to do but drink (or have sex with random strangers!) and party. So I drank until I passed out. Every morning I would wake up clear eyed and just a little thirsty. I feel like I can't really relate. Sorry, guys!

Yes, yes, and I'm sure you've never masturbated either. tb

Nice work, Ted - science thanks you for the research!
I've found as I get older that level 1 doesn't happen so much. I go straight to level 2 or three (or five, if my attempts to make myself throw up before bed don't work.. What? I'd rather throw up than have bed-spin. I hate bed-spin!)
But I think there's a level 6. It's like level 5, only it comes with black-dog depression which lasts for weeks. I did that to myself once - I even needed valium. Not funny. I didn't drink for months after that.

My most memorable level 5 involved, among other things:
- me not knowing that my friends were spiking my coolers with vodka;
- my best friend falling, grabbing me by the throat, and dragging me down with her;
- whaling my head off the side of an entertainment unit while being dragged down by the throat;
- my roommates getting concerned about the violence with which I was getting sick, bundling me into an ambulance, and taking me to the hospital;
- the nurses at the hospital deciding that it was too late to pump my stomach (I had already effectively done that myself) and sending me home; and
- a Santa Claus parade going by my bedroom window the next morning, complete with fire engine sirens and marching bands, until I thought I would die.

Only two levels have a nickname, and Level 1 bears my first wife's pet name.

...I don't see the second nickname...?

You understand that is going to bother me all day.

P.S. Brilliant review (of both hangovers and films!) as usual.

Nice catch, J; it's The Braveheart, so not too much extra excitement, but noted and corrected. tb

Wait a minute. You promised us Mrs. Socalled would be contributing to the Five Levels. I have been waiting all week to hear her description of living with the Boozehound through a Level 5.
**stamps foot**
You promised.

Mrs. socalled apologizes, or will at some point. After agreeing to watch 28 Weeks Later earlier this week, she became irritated with me for assuring her that "It will be fine!" She's sulking right now and says she won't wait for me when the zombies come. And they're coming, you know. tb

Major kudos on your film choices, Ted. Considering I own both of these movies, I've always felt they were majorly underrated. In fact, here's a conversational anecdote about The Corruptor between me and my friend Tim from a couple years back.

Tim: Have you ever seen The Corruptor?
Me: Huh?
Tim: The Corruptor. It's kind of a B-level cop movie? Chow Yun-Fat and Marky Mark? It's actually surprisingly good. I think there's some really deft direction in it. You can borrow it, if you want.
Me: I can borrow it?
Tim: Yes. It's right there.
Me: Asshole, that's my DVD. You borrowed it from me two months ago.
Tim: ...oh. Well... I'm done watching it.
Me: You're a douchebag.

I haven't had a level five since college, and the police were involved that night. Never again. Never. Again.

Good for him. But just saw him at ___S e e k i n g R i c h . c o m---last week. What is he looking for on that site.

He's looking for Chow Yun Fat, baby! tb

Yes, yes, and I'm sure you've never masturbated either. tb

Ha! Tell that to my vibrator! Ooops! I mean...I plead the fifth. Damn!

Off topic, but I have to share this. I spent most of this morning on a pass-word protected chat room about health policy. All of a sudden, the spambot shows up. Honest to Godtopus. The best part is that we were discussing a paper by a brilliant man but one who evokes immediate thoughts of Marty Feldman in Young Frankenstein upon meeting him. So the spambot weighs in with "he is so hot..blah-di-blah." That shaking you all felt was not a tremor this morning, it was health policy wonks around the globe laughing in unison.

If I may offer a humble hangover remedy that from my experiences works from a level three down, take a shower. A long hot shower. Wash the dirt and the alcohol and the dried up cheese off your body, scrub away that outer layer of pain, let your muscles relax and most importantly, let your body soak in water like a sponge. I understand that when one is hungover, the last thing they want to do is get out a bed or off the couch but just go lay in the bottom of your shower. It works (or at least helps) every time.

Masey:

A modification to your proposal if I may: try to find a shower with a seat in it. Otherwise you may find yourself deciding that you'll just lie down for a minute on cool cold porcelain bathtub floor. Several hours later when you wake up, the hot water is all gone and your body is a strange shade of blue and a small African nation has imploded due to water shortages.

Not sure what level this is, but this was my most recent encounter. A friend made a party one Saturday (Kiddush for my fellow chosen people) recently celebrating the brith of his daughter. Said friend's family has money, lots apparently. This party had many bottles of scotch out, all old enough to vote, and a bourbon that I believe was about 145 Proof. needless to say I ried most of them and had some of the pricey wines he kept opening. Went home after determining I needed to stop, had a drunken lunch and napped for about 4 hours. Woke up with a headache that grew as the day passed. Fast forward tot hat evening, me in bed, head pounding, room spinning, running to the bathroom every 20 minutes to puke. Had a hard time following whatever DVDs I was watching that night. Good times.

brilliant article Ted!
thank goodness the boss is out of the office today, as the co-worker and I were laughing bit too loud to be able to cover it up with a cough or some other excuse

but I also have a confession to make

hi, my name is Bethy, and I have never had a hangover.
I am sure eventually this will catch up to me and I will be forced to kill myself from the pain, but at the moment I am 25 and hangover-free

the Boy on the otherhand.....oh the stories I could tell you

Paddy and Masey, the Boy desperatly wants a shower with a seat in it for that exact reason

he says it is bliss

FYI - you can get a seat for your shower anywhere home health care supplies are sold. We had one in the house when I was a kid, after my grandfather had a stroke.

They're also helpful for washing the dog, and that may or may not be a euphemism. tb

Being of the 5'3" and 95lbs variety of female, my metabolism does not allow alcohol to stay in my system (or stomach...) long enough to reach a level five hangover. It's like my body has 20/10 vision and when it sees the level 5 coming, it immediately hits the eject button situated on the stomach lining.

That being said my worst night (and morning) ever involved consuming a nutritious dinner from the Wendy's value menu, consuming five shots of Jameson in two hours, and finishing off at the end of the second hour with an Irish Car Bomb. The person making those car bombs did not understand how to pour Guinness at all and due to the previous five shots of whiskey, it did not occur to me that consuming 3/4 of a glass of Guinness head would cause my body to start frantically pounding on the eject button. I vaguely remember being carried to the car...

I'm not very big, so when I consume copious amounts of alcohol the hangovers can get ugly. I've vomited until the blood vessels around my eyes burst, but I've never had a hangover last longer than a day. I can't imagine the number of deities I'd invent in order to pray to them if I were hungover for three days straight. I'd find the nearest person and ask them to please sever my head.

Also, to whoever said they hate the spins: WORD. They are the worst. I've gotten them so bad that I couldn't stay on the bed because it was too high up, so I moved to the floor and kind of spread my arms out, attempting to get some traction or something. My roommate at the time walked in and thought I was dead and started screaming her fool head off. Not awesome.

This was spectacular. I would like to suggest that my university get rid of its absurd mandatory freshmen "oh no! alcohol!" seminar and instead hire you to tell your war stories to the eager-eyed children.

I am available to colleges and universities for a small fee and a first class flight. I get along well with 18-year-old girls and rarely embarrass anyone with unexpected offspring. tb

Great post, Ted. I want to send this to my 17 y.o. brother who endured his first hangover last year (awww, isn't that cute?). Unfortunately, Dad let the punk sleep in the next day so lil' snookums could recover. Humph.
All first-timers should be dragged off the floor first thing in the morning, given cheap sausage to eat for breakfast (the kind with the little hard nuggets of gristle in them), then shoved outside with a bottle of water for a day of yardwork. Mwaahahaha!

Double WORD to the spins.

As for those who are supposedly hangover free as of yet ... in my experience, my hangovers didn't start until I totally destroyed myself (aka, pulled a level 5) once, and then they kind of creep up on occasion now. Maybe you just haven't gone all the way to the deep end yet?

For some weird reason, I don't throw up when I'm drunk. If I get to the Level 4 or 5 stage, I just black out. Maybe I throw up while I'm blacked out, but there's never any evidence of the fact the next morning.

In fact, I've only thrown up once because of alcohol. I was in Chicago with some people at a bachelorette party and threw up all over myself at the table in the middle of the bar. All the other drunks at the party said I smelled too bad to ride with them in the limo procured for the night, so they left me there and moved on to the next establishment. After a couple of hours on the street outside the bar, I was able to procure a cab and had just enough money (about $75) to have him drive me to my car, which was parked in the northern suburbs. Then I drove home, which was another hour away. Fortunately, I didn't black out, so the memory of that night will stay with me always.

I dunno Jess, there are quite a few nights where I drank far more than I should have, my 21st birthday and the night I drank an entire bottle of limoncello in 1.5 hrs come to mind

also a few nights in there I don't quite remember fully

I think fate is just lulling me into a false sense of security before it drop-kicks me and hits me on the back of the head with a metal chair

The comment above was a Level 4 hangover (probably because I threw up). My only Level 5 was (of course) in college, where I drank I can't remember what (blackout) on Friday night. I had to sleep on the floor of my dorm room because we had lofts and I couldn't make it up to my bed. For the entire three-day weekend (we had Monday off), my friends would come at mealtime to ask me if I wanted to eat. I would make a noise that simultaneously damns them to hell while letting them know I was alive, and they would go eat. I finally was able to eat dinner on Monday, and attend my 9:00 class on Tuesday like nothing happened.

Maybe you just haven't gone all the way to the deep end yet?

Jess, I have definitely been to the deep end. After losing many games of "Buffalo", I then had the (Brilliant!) idea to take tequila shots, followed by sparkling wine. Trust me, all the elements for a killer hangover were there. It just never materialized. I woke up with my mouth feeling like the Gobi, though.

In my experience, there's a certain curve for when hangovers are worst. So those of you saying you've never had a hangover, I can feel you: generally, on the nights that SHOULD be the worst (shots, blacking out, sleeping on the bedroom/bathroom floor while naked, etc), I wake up feeling fine. Well, that is, I wake up feeling fine, and then have to survey the damage of my room and track down all my missing possessions. On the other hand, it's the nights in which I drink juuuust enough to be beyond a Level 2 (or even 3), but not quite enough to fully disengage myself from reality, that I get hit the hardest. It's those mornings where I sit up in bed and end up booting in a smooth motion, almost as though I choreographed it ahead of time, and spend the rest of the day lounging and begging my friends to bring me food that I ultimately can't eat anyway. Honestly, I would do well on those nights to just keep drinking.. the mornings usually serve me better.

I am very familiar with this level 5. I have had one of those in which I lost my keys, several thousand brain cells, and the ability to eat for 2 days.

It sucked. I remember that there was Jack, Jose, Vodka, beer, Boone's farm, and maybe Tequila Rose involved. I never want to relieve that night.

I almost had one that was bordering on the level 5. It involved Franzia boxed wine. As a general rule now, I view all wine in a box as a lethal and unholy devil water.

Awesome review, Mr. Boynton!

Paddy & Masey, handicap-equipped showers are AWESOME for hangovers. The apartment I was in before had one and I spent many a fuzzy morning slumped over on the built-in seat. I'd get a huge glass of icewater, put in on the railing lining the shower, crank that bitch on the hottest setting I could stand and just sit there until the hot water would run out, trying to remember what the hell happened the previous night...

I had a level five in college that involved the following: destroying a beat-up old tenspeed, wrapping it in tin-foil and hanging it from a tree; removing (and hiding) the oven doors on the other four floors of my building; driving backwards at about forty miles an hour while my friend leaned out the door trying to pick up a hat that flew out the window; waking up fully-clothed w/misc. stuff stolen from the bar(s?) - billiard balls, shot glasses, pitchers, and a three-foot tall, metal Corona advertisment that had obviously been ripped from the wall of the bar. I spent most of the day in the same position I woke up in... Guh. I couldn't even toss one off to the soft-core smut that HBO had to offer that evening...

I Love The Replacement Killers. Anytime, not just when hungover.

Just a really enjoyable film; Mira is vulnerable and funny, Chow is all kinds of charisma. Fantastic. tb

I think I've only ever gotten up to a Level 4, and I wasn't sure if I was going to make it through that.

Also, just fyi, like many other things I read on this site, I didn't know what RU-486 was, so I typed it into Google. Now I'm getting pop-up ads for abortion clinics.

Thanks for the info Boozehound.

Southern Comfort...just typing the words makes me ill.
I used to love SoCo but I did not respect its power during one wonderful house party. I was carrying the bottle around, taking swigs and fancying myself a latter-day Janis Joplin. I cackled to my friends, "This is MY house! I can get as drunk as I wanna 'cause this is MY house!"

Lord help me, it was my first Level 4 the next day. Respect the power of certain liquors, lest your body bans you from touching them again.
I utterly respect tequila, since I love margaritas and it would suck to give them up.

The water tips are gold, Ted. Although I opt for seltzer or iced tea after three drinky-poos.

I haven't finished reading the column yet, but Ted? One of your finest. I've been choking back laughter since ""uggle-uggle-uggle-uggle-bwaaauuuuhhhhhh-hic-puh!-uggle-uggle-uggle-guhhhhh, where's my revolver?" Drinking is fun!" and have now reached the howling laughter inducing "You are crippled and retarded. Stephen Hawking titters as he elbows you aside for the last pop tart."

My god. So funny. Back to reading.

I'm going to a boozy house party tonight, and I really wanted to think about the consequences in advance of that. Thanks for the PSA, Boozehound. Thank you. No, really, I mean it. *mutter mutter Boynton mutter frickin' bastard mutter*

Ugh, I'm prone to the bed-spins. Not fun at all...I really, really want to sleep once I've reached that stage, but I have to keep my eyes wide open and focus on something, ANYTHING to anchor me. Sarina, I laughed at your story--that totally could have happened to me!

My only Level 5 in recent memory? Last year, the provincial liquor commission held a Beer, Wine and Spirits Tasting event. For $25, you could sample any or all of over 130 of their finest products. I was sailing through, sampling whatever tickled my fancy, having a grand old time, when the fatal words were announced: "Fifteen minutes left!"

My drunken self interpreted that as, "Hurry, hurry--drink everything in sight, woman! Free booze ends soon! Get your fill, for the love of god!"

Guuuuhhhhhh....that was a loooong night, and my ass was dragging for the next two days......

I used to be one of those who never got hungover, but in the last year or so all that changed. I mentioned to a friend when it started happening that I thought I was getting old, but she said it's probably cumulative liver damage. That made much more sense, since I'm only 27! See what you've got to look forward to?

I have fully experienced each of the 5 levels, but like others have mentioned, level 1 doesn't really show its face anymore.

My favorite hangover gem -- when my dad and I stay up waaay too late drinking everything in the house we can get out hands on and listening to records, we invariably have this interchange the next morning:
Dad: "Where's the cat?"
Jodester: "What cat, Dad?"
Dad: "The one that shit in my mouth."

Thank you. That is all.

happycat,
Word! Ever since I got very very sick on it (at the age of 18, so, many moons ago), the sight of Southern Comfort makes me queasy.
A friend, not knowing this, gave me a bottle for Christmas one year. I was very tempted to call Sam & Dean Winchester to surround it with rocksalt and exorcise it with TV Latin.... but given that this was (sadly) real life, I settled for re-gifting it the next day.

my last hangover came after eating a small salad for dinner and then downing shots of tequila and rum and cokes all while playing beirut... with no water in between.

my hangovers usually consist of not being able to sleep AT ALL... I usually just crawl around on the floor to find a comfortable spot or sleep on a couch or chair, because apparently my blacked out self can't sleep in my bed.

But my secret remedy? Ginger tea and Gatorade. Your tummy is soothed and you get rehydrated.

Attn: People who suffer from the bed spins

I am plagued with this myself and I hate it. All I want is to sleep, dammit, just close my eyes, start my detox, and go to sleep. However, I discovered something one night - the bed spins fear the light! Well, not really, but if I leave a light on across the room, I can lay down and sleep without becoming overly nauseous from the room spinning. I think it has something to do with being able to focus (and thus orient myself) on the light that comes through the eye lids. The room still spins a bit, but not enough to prevent me from sleeping.

Ok. All done. So fucking good Socalled, and now I'm excited to rent The Replacement Killers. Chow Yun Fat is a Chowy Yuny Faty god.

My first and only level five hangover was the result of my first time getting drunk. Third week of college (late bloomer), a bottle of Absolute 100. I did 11 straight shots of it...in styrofoam cups no less. My four hours in the bathroom that night went like this:

Me: puking puking puking. [lifts head, room spins]...puking puking puking.
Good friend Janene: [worriedly] ...are you ok?
Me: :strips naked: I'm hot. Can you get me my tank top? [goes back to ralphing]
Nene: [gets me a flannel shirt and sweat pants like the sweetheart she is]
Me: [cue Darth Vader voice] NOOOO. TANK TOP!!!! [pukes pukes pukes]

Four hours later, I'm lying in bed sprawled on top of Janene, who refused to let me sleep alone in fear that I would choke on my vomit and die:

Me: Pretzel.
Nene: [feeds me pretzels]
Me: Sprite.
Nene: [holds can of Sprite to my lips]
Me: Bucket.
Nene: [Tips me over the side of the bed]
Me: [commences puking]

I was hung over for TWO DAYS. And Janene? Actually lived with me for 3 years in college and 3 years in Manayunk. Brave soul, she is.

This is how you figure out who your real friends are. Noooo, Luke, you fucking Ur-Tard, [breath breath], TANK TOP! tb

so as I am bored and unwilling to do work today apparently, I was researching patron saints...

there is a patron saint of hangovers

Saint Bibiana

she is also the patron saint of those who suffer from torture, epilepsy, headaches, insanity, or mental illness

coincidence? I think not

I seem to have nothing but levels 1 & 5, though mostly 5 these days. Either the getting older doing it to me, or the fact that once I start drinking I cannot stop until there is absolutely none left in my vicinity.

The worst level 5 experienced? Started with a bang, waking up in the middle of the night to find my boyfriend had vomited in bed and rubbed it all over me in his sleep. It only got worse from there. The rest of my day was spent alternating between pathetic moans and turning myself inside out in the bathroom. I vomited (or dry retched by this point) until my forehead and eyes were a mass of blood red veins. We make such a lovely couple.

Also, just fyi, like many other things I read on this site, I didn't know what RU-486 was, so I typed it into Google. Now I'm getting pop-up ads for abortion clinics.

I guess you didn't watch "Veronica Mars"

My don't overdrink while out drinking (especially in a place where there is not Kosher food available to help absorb the booze) option is to alternate pints with large Diet Cokes. This alos makes me need to pee every 15 minutes bt all in the name of fun.

Bethy, that's hilarious! At first I found it really surprising that there'd be a patron saint of hangovers, but really--the Catholic church has a certain affinity for red wine (er, I mean the blood of Christ), so it totally makes sense. I mean, is red wine not among the nasties of hangover inducers? It is for me, anyway. Damned congeners and preservatives and crap.

Oddly, homemade red wine (corection, GOOD homemade red wine) doesn't do me harm at all. However, the odd store-bought bottle slams me like a Mack truck...

Am I the only one who gets a kick out of the spins? It's like an amusement park ride :)

Thankfully, my only level 5 was many moons ago in college. We'd just finished power hour and were faced with a 15 min. walk from our dorm to a house party. Not wanting to lose my sweet buzz, I finished off 1/3 bottle of vodka (vodka and I don't speak anymore) in 5 min. and headed out the door. The blackout happened before we even got to the party. Apparently I spent the first part of the night screaming at some guy who was sort of kind of trying to get with me, then the last half of the night making out with him. The next day, I had to type a 20 page paper for my government class. I took puke breaks every 10-15 min to run down the hall to the restroom to vomit up the tiny sips of water with which I was trying to rehydrate myself. I don't remember how long it was before I could eat again. I get chills just recalling it. Ick.

Heeee...exactly, Ted. The fact that Janene still loved me after I turned into Linda Blair proved that we'd be friends for life.

I reached Level 5 only once. I had reached the part of the night where I was feeling slightly ill, but was too far gone to consider stopping. So on their way to another bar, my friends dropped me off at home, thinking I would be better off calling it a night.

Little did we know that my roommate had invited other drunkards over to watch the Big Lebowski and drink copious amounts of White Russians.

I wanted a White Russian so badly. The Dude was swirling his beverage around and, even as my stomach turned, my mouth watered.

Careful, man, there's a beverage here!

I compromised with myself. When you are sick to your stomach with the flu, you're not supposed to have milk, right? So I decided that a pint glass of BLACK Russian would be fine. And then maybe a few more.

The saddest part of this story is that I still get PTSD every time I hear a Lebowski quote. I eagerly anticipate the time when I can sit down and watch it without curling into the fetal position.

You say: "drunk", "disemboweled", and "Bay Area"?

I say: What a coincidence! Yesterday a Mill Valley man "partially disemboweled himself" in what the authorities are assuming was a "drinking related incident". They think he rolled over a broken bottle.

I just can't think of any drinking stories I've ever heard that will top that.

In other news, my favorite phrase to describe a Level 3 is "I got the gin sweats and the whiskey shits".

"It's like an amusement park ride"

I beg to differ, osmate77. The drunken spins are nothing like an amusement park ride. I effing LOVE roller coasters and anything that spins or rockets up and down violently, and I think I might be physically incapable of motion sickness or sea sickness or air sickness, because I've never experienced any of them. I have, however, experienced the drunken spins, and I assure you they IN NO WAY resemble a carnival-o-fun.

Roller coasters are awesome. The drunken spins are like what would happen if awesome got laid off and then mugged on the way home and then found his wife fucking the UPS guy on the kitchen table and had a rage episode and killed them both with his bare hands and set the house on fire but forgot the dog and the baby were still inside so he sat on the lawn covered in blood and crying until the sprinklers turned on and soaked him to the skin and then the cops and the fire department showed up so he ran away and got hit by a schoolbus but his sleeve got caught on the bumper so he was dragged for six blocks before his arm was ripped off and he dropped to the pavement where he lay panting and sobbing until a pickup with a flat tire ran him over and crushed his skull.

I can't drink for a few more months, but I'm happy to offer my services as DD anytime any of you would like to see what level hangover you can attain in a night. Just don't puke in my car.

The only thing that seems to induce hangovers in me is Malibu, that shitty, girly, coconut-flavored rum. There must be a chemical in it that my body doesn't like, because two shots and I am responding to the question, "Are you OK?" with, "Oh yes, absolutely fine, thank you so much for asking! *vomits every which way*" and then I spend the entire next day until 6 PM unable to do anything except lie in bed and puke gently.

And the second time this happened, I was facing a two-hour drive back home. I stopped on the side of the highway to puke at least five times, and I had to turn off the P.G. Wodehouse audiobook I was listening to for company because I couldn't stand hearing Jeeves offer a "stiffening b&S" without the nausea rising within me. Ugh, Malibu.

Sarina...that is the best description of what the drunken spins are that I have EVER heard. Ever.

Kolby, I said it in your blog but I shall say it again-congratulations!!!!!

Sarina that was awesome, just pure awesome

and oh my goodness Kolby!!! Congrads!!!

I TOO have had a nightmare Lebowski White/Black Russian night, with the exact same reasoning. Screw the White Russian, bring on the BLACK! Ended up waking up with a random next to me in bed, and surveyed my bedroom, which was not clean. That is, you could not see the floor. Which was great, because it meant that when I had to clean up all I surfaces on which I had projectile vomited during the night, it was really just clothing and not the floor itself. ALL the clothing that is. I spent more on laundry than on the freaking drinks.

Well, I have been pretty lucky to have never reached a level 5, as I used to have a huge fear of throwing up, and as soon as I felt sick, I would try to stop myself and commence with heavy breathing.

One of my worst hangovers was in the first year of my job (a huge lot of wonderful drunkards worked there) and we would go out probably 2-3 times a week. The bartender gave us closing shots of Frangelica (never again) and I immediately ran to the bathroom and tried to puke. No go. Went home with my boyfriend, laid in the bathroom praying for puke, no go again. Being so afraid to throw up, I refused to make myself do it.

After a fitful night of sleep and sweating, I got in the car and starting driving to work. About halfway there, I knew I was about to puke, so I pulled into an Exxon. I had a white button down on that I was unbuttoning and pulling off as I ran through the gas station and into the bathroom just in case. I had the overwhelming relief one feels when they finally are able to throw up, but felt like shit about 2 hours later and had to go home anyway. Fun times.

Thanks Julie & Bethy! You guys can be the first passengers on the Kolby Drunk-Ass Express.

woot!!

you going to be anywhere near southern NH tonight Kolby? :p

Only had one level five. It involved an awful day at work, endless tequila, and a cockatoo. I woke up the next morning thinking I had died. At some point during the night, I had puked blood. I don't remember it, but the bathtub didn't get that way by itself.

Unfortunately, I had my first job with a new consulting client, and *had* to go meet her at 9 a.m. for breakfast at Shoney's. I somehow struggled through the appointment, went home, and proceeded to have a slightly-delayed hangover for the next two days.

That incident was a good 15 years ago, and I've barely had a level one hangover since then. Sometimes, with age comes wisdom. Or an increased alcohol tolerance. One of those.

Roller coasters are awesome. The drunken spins are like what would happen if awesome got laid off and then mugged on the way home and then found his wife fucking the UPS guy on the kitchen table and had a rage episode and killed them both with his bare hands and set the house on fire but forgot the dog and the baby were still inside so he sat on the lawn covered in blood and crying until the sprinklers turned on and soaked him to the skin and then the cops and the fire department showed up so he ran away and got hit by a schoolbus but his sleeve got caught on the bumper so he was dragged for six blocks before his arm was ripped off and he dropped to the pavement where he lay panting and sobbing until a pickup with a flat tire ran him over and crushed his skull.

Remind me never to hang out with you when you're drinking...or already drunk...or in a bad mood...or ever.

Only had one level five. It involved an awful day at work, endless tequila, and a cockatoo.

Ha ha ha ha!

I TOO have had a nightmare Lebowski White/Black Russian night, with the exact same reasoning. Screw the White Russian, bring on the BLACK!

Which goes to show that people do indeed go back from black. My experience was too painful, messy, and long to ever go back to black again.

My loss, I suppose. :)

Does anyone else have that serious feeling that you are going to fall off of the Earth during the drunken spins? Cause I have. Not cool.

There was also the hangover from killing a bottle of 100 proof vodka in 15 minutes and following it up with Cisco. I remember not being able to open my front door and waking up in the floor in front of my tv, face down, still holding the bottle and had managed to pour it in my hair. That was a 2 day recovery and resulted in me watching Gladiator with sunglasses on in my own living room.

My level 5s were pretty frequent circa the mid-90's. However, one New Year's Eve, after being asked to leave the Yeung Ching Palace in Washington, DC, I was also kicked out of cab and driven home by the District police after throwing up so hard, and so long that I burst all the blood vessels in my eyeballs and looked like someone just starting to succumb to zombification. They stayed that way for about six weeks. I have not taken a shot of tequila since. That was 2002.

The hangover that followed my participation in a contest to see who could drink a handle of vodka the fastest defies description.

See, there are other rides than roller coasters at amusement parks. I am thinking more of the spinny ones, go figure. The Mixer! The Himalaya! The Swings! The Tilt o' Whirl! I love those, not so much the roller coasters, which is probably why I don't mind the spins. I really, truly find them amusing. They sort of lull me to sleep and help me forget how horrible I am going to feel the next day. Is it so odd to be amused by the feeling like you are going to fall off the face of the earth? I don't think so.

Yes, Melody, I get that, too. It feels like I'm spiraling down through my bed into an unknown level hell that is saved especially for people who thought finishing (read: drinking most of) their friends pomegranite mojito after downing three very large flavored margaritas of their own at lightning speed would be a good idea. It's not.

10:49 a.m., Mssrs. Laphroig and Lagavulin knocking loudly on the top of my skull, I scratch open one eye to draw a map to the park for the Wookiees - they are not very smart and have only two minutes' short term memory - then steady myself against the nightstand leg and set out at a haphazard-yet-determined crawl for the kitchen. Years of experience teach a "read-and-react" skill set placing an emphasis on recognizing the scenario and defeating the bandit ... okay, that might be lionizing my familiarity with overindulgence.

I didn't understand a goddamn word of this, but yet, I know somewhere in there lies a message.

Another great column TB.

Remind me never to hang out with you when you're drinking...or already drunk...or in a bad mood...or ever.

Hee. Shadows, I'm actually a rather pleasant drunk. I'm usually nice to people when I'm drunk, even the people I hate. My best friend is dating a guy who's much younger than she is, and he has a friend named Bob who's dating this dumb dumb DUMBBELL of a girl who I call Tinfoil (she has an actual name; it's Nicole or Natalie or something, I dunno really) and I'm even nice to her when I'm drunk. Except for that one time I called her a dumb cunt, but that was because she stood on my hand. Most of the time, the worst thing I'll do while wasted is have sex in a semi-random place like a bathroom or something, or possibly throw things (like game pieces if people try to get me to play a board game that I've never played before, because Sarina + Alcohol + Learning = Throwing shit).

I've become adept at recognizing a Level 2 around 5 am and man-handling it down to a Level 1 before I go to work at 7:30. This involves self-induced waterboarding, 800 mg of ibuprofin, and a McDonald's egg McMuffin

My level 4/nearly-Braveheart moment involved one very long night in Shanghai a few years back. The last thing I remember before blacking out was doing "Statue of Liberty" shots - wherein one dips one's finger in 151 and LIGHTS IT ON FIRE, holding up said flaming finger while then drinking the shot. What's in the shot? Who the fuck knows? Your finger is ON FIRE.

Next thing I know my boyfriend's trying to get in the bathroom of our hotel room, and I'm slowly realizing that that's MY body blocking the door. My view is of the underside of the toilet tank, and I have no idea how or why I decided the bathroom floor would be a good place to spend the night. I'm guessing vomit was involved although I smoked at least a pack of cigarettes so mercifully I can't really taste or smell anything. My wallet is gone and I'm fully dressed (shoes and contacts; everything). I'm pretty sure I just went back to sleep right there after he was done peeing, cause I just didn't have the muscle control to stand.

Needless to say I spent the whole day desperately beggind God to let me die and trying to call stateside to cancel all my credit cards. True story.

By the way, has anybody ever experienced a nicotine hangover? I'm starting to think these are different from the purely alcohol induced kind. The headache seems sharper and lasts longer, there's much more nausea, and my eyes feel like they're on fire. I get this sometimes when I've only had 4 or 5 drinks, but many many cigarettes. Anyone with me?

Socalled, you're my hero. What a great post for a Friday afternoon.

ok, I am going to use the fact that Sarina mentioned board games in passing to tenuously bridge to mention a now-tradition with my friends

at some point in college, we got bored and decided to take all our old favorite board games from our childhood and convert them to drinking games

thus: Shoots and Ladders became Shots and Waterfalls

Candy Land became Candy Land:A Game Guaran-fuckin-teed To Get You Wasted
(picture this - drink for every square you move, waterfall for every bridge/lane thingy, shot for you and a friend for every "special" card you draw.
have made it all the way through one game without quitting in 5 years)

and Twister became very fun, very giggly and at some points, oh so wrong....

Most of the time, the worst thing I'll do while wasted is have sex in a semi-random place like a bathroom or something, or possibly throw things (like game pieces if people try to get me to play a board game that I've never played before, because Sarina + Alcohol + Learning = Throwing shit).

It's stuff like this that make me adore you. It would be even more awesome if you were having sex...in a bathroom...while playing a board game...and throwing shit.

Bethy, now I want to play drunken Twister! >:(

...I don't think I can get my Jay to play with me. Boobies are not his thang.

I retract my previous statement...Sarina, would you like to go drinking tonight? I got a very roomy bathroom!

And Scrabble, of course..the pieces are very throwable...

Shadows, the Scrabble board would also make a lovely makeshift paddling device.

well, you know Julie, there is such a thing and a drunken Twister threesome....this is your test to determine how far Shadowsreally would go for you

or if all else fails, just raid your local frat house

now I want to play drunken Twister! >:(
...I don't think I can get my Jay to play with me. Boobies are not his thang.

Damnit, Julie...why must you tease me so?

I don't think the Scrabble board would hold up to more than three or four licks...luckily, I carry backup with me wherever I go...

the Scrabble board would also make a lovely makeshift paddling device.

ah yes Julie, but does it have "bitch" embossed on the back of it like that lovely paddle in the ad up yonder ways?

Public Service Announcement: Drunken Twister may sound fun, but you should only play it with appropriate people. Do not play with anyone suffering from the following conditions:

Poor sense of balance
Weak joints
Little to no flexibility
Low stamina
Halitosis
Largeness

You will end up squashed beneath their hulking form, forced to endure their mouth-breathing fumes as they pant weakly from the strain. Depending on their orientation, they may grope you while you're pinned and helpless. Just trust me when I tell you to only play drunken Twister with limber people who practice good oral hygiene.

or if all else fails, just raid your local frat house

Ha! I DO live within blocks of all of the Drexel and U Penn frats. And I do so prefer the embossed paddles, I'm a fan of branding.

Shadows...you have a backup beating device at all times? You are my hero.

I DO live within blocks of all of the Drexel and U Penn frats.

Of course you do!

Depending on their orientation, they may grope you while you're pinned and helpless.

And that is bad why? :p

Kolby, I didn't have a choice, I needed somewhere to live! And I'm more in the hood than in the college part of town anyway. Thank GOD. I would beat their rowdy asses with the Communal Spoon of Gore and Violence.

Julie I love that you would rather live in the hood than the college part of town...

and I see no problem with being groped while pinned down and helpless (if they are hot)

Bethy & Julie, you are clearly making no effort whatsoever to heed my warning! I wasn't talking about the hot people groping you while playing drunken Twister! I was talking about the dragon-breathed water buffalo type people. You know, the ones with the greasy sweat that smell like a restaurant back alley and grunt when they heave their bulk upright? There's always one of those people at a party. DO NOT PLAY DRUNKEN TWISTER WITH THEM. It would be like wrestling with Brandon Davis. Who the hell wants to be pinned and groped by Brandon Davis? NOBODY.

Okay...Drunken Twister and Ambiguous Grope at my house tonight..all Pajibite females invited! (yes, even you Joker)

Hee. I love my neighborhood...it may be too close to the bad part of West Philly for comfort, but it's also really neighborhoody and fun.

and I see no problem with being groped while pinned down and helpless (if they are hot)

Hells yes. The last guy I hooked up with was all about that, and it was insanely hot. Him turning out to be a thunderdouche? ...not so hot. Fun night though. Heh.

You know, the ones with the greasy sweat that smell like a restaurant back alley and grunt when they heave their bulk upright? There's always one of those people at a party. DO NOT PLAY DRUNKEN TWISTER WITH THEM. It would be like wrestling with Brandon Davis.

Ewwwwww. EW!. Ahem. Ew.

Drunken Twister and Ambiguous Grope

Shadows...that will be the title of my follow up memoir.

score! Shadows I am SO there!

should I bring taco dip, or has Julie got that covered?

I could bring scotch.....

I'll bring the taco dip, because mine is best and I will smite anyone who says otherwise. I will also bring sangria, footie pajamas, and my copy of Midgets on Wheels. Muah ah ah.

I will also bring sangria, footie pajamas, and my copy of Midgets on Wheels.

this get together is shaping up to be a lot better than I the I actaullu have to go to tonight.....

sigh

ok, I have to share this with somebody...

I just saw a guy walk by sporting mutton chops...

mutton chops people!!!

"... and my copy of Midgets on Wheels."

Julie...you're my internet fiance and love of my online life...but don't make me uninvite you from a frolickin', handsy, potentially severely inebriated and board-game sexy good time...

[cue sinister laughter]

That was JUST for you Shadows. :)

You know, it really doesn't help that I actually am unwell today in a nauseous/unhappy intestines kind of way. And it's not even from drinking. I'm just regular sick. And yet, I can't keep myself from reading the whole damn comment thread. It is not making me feel better in any way, shape, or form! But yet, I have a kind of kindred spirit thing going on with your tales of hangover woe. I hate being hungover, and really try to avoid it at all costs. Considering my current state, I can't possibly try to relate any of my (few) stories. Ugh. Must not throw up.

[sends thoughts of Advil and Ginger Ale Tamatha's way]

Thanks Julie! Unfortunately, even ginger ale didn't help last night. :( I'm just counting the minutes until 5:00, when I can drag my sorry ass home and crawl into bed.

All of you going to Shadows' party, have fun twisting and groping!

"Who the fuck knows? Your finger is ON FIRE."

AM, I'm ashamed to admit that I had never heard of that until now. Statue of Liberty shots sounds awesome, and I'm going to do them someday soon.

Sorry to ditch you this morning, folks, but I simply HAD to go see Iron Man after Dustin's review went up. My thoughts are on the Iron Man comment thread, around #80. tb

we will take video for you tamatha! ;)

feel better!

Ted, your comments on Iron Man made me just as excited to see it as Dustin's review did. Just looking at Robert Downey Jr. makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside...like I'm about to have a cute baby otter burst violently from my chest.

Julie, your visions of "warm amd fuzzy" make my head hurt....

Otters are cute, but they smell like lutefisk.

Hee hee hee...

I read all the comments and .. Bethy .. you made me laugh with the mutton chops! Thanks for that!

anytime annabella!
you see some weird ass things in NH....

enjoy your drunken Twister Julie and Shadows...I gotta go schelp over to a party I don't really want to go to.....
over and out

Hee. I'm off dress shopping and happy...houring.

Sarina "Except for that one time I called her a dumb cunt" made me laugh out loud at my cubicle!!!

I agree tho, I'm so totally the nice drunk who is kind to people, including strangers and self-professed enemies. I was so annoyed at the crowds at Coachella this past weekend, but once I got wasted off of wine (cos it goes much farther than Heinekin and Soju cocktails), I loved everybody.

Level 5 hangover for me was just this past december at my birthday party:
I decided to have a cocktail party, and since I'm usually the DD, I took this moment to cut loose. Cut to midnight, we're outta guinness for car bombs so I decide to use Miller Hi-Life! It made sense at the time okay...

Next, I drank some absinthe, more hi-life car bombs, hypnotic, and whatever else until I blacked out in my bed with ppl still in my house!

Somehow during said blackout, I let ppl into my building (like ran out into the night w/ keys and brought them inside), accepted bday gifts and then flung them across the room and cussed out my friend for trying to steal some imaginary boyfriend i had!

But my friends were dolls, even when i passed out in bed w/ one boob coming out of my dress, they just gingerly tucked it back in. All I did was mumbled and rolled over.

Needless to say, the hangover was sooo awful. It was the last week for the Murikami exhibit, so I had to go. Inside that place, i felt like i was on acid!! Anime inspired art of naked people and vomiting mushrooms is the WRONG place to be when hungover. I acted like an elderly woman and just shuffled about (from the joint pain) and didn't really enjoy the art. The best part was when you could sit down, in my case lie down, and watch his cartoons and the Kanye "Good Morning" video.

Later, I couldn't even be in the car to make it back home so we went to my friends place where he made me a cup of Amaretto cocoa. It was good but the mug was too heavy for me to hold cos i was that weak!!

I decided that was my first and last blackout drunk, but we'll see. Y'never know, right?

Oh, dear Lord.

Gool's neighborhood is basically college central. The only students who live in the dorms at Penn and Drexel are freshman or foreigners. I never had any eventful happenings over there, but I was carried out of the Teke house at Temple during my freshman year at Textile (we weren't allowed to have frat houses there because there was some sort of frat war a few years back and one frat set the other's house on fire).

The worst I've had is a level 4, I guess. For my 27th birthday, my cousin took me to Mad River where I proceeded to drink 12 SoCo & ginger ales in two hours. Our next stop was the bar where my then-boyfriend worked. He kept trying to give me water, but the other 'tender kept slipping me more shots of SoCo. The last thing I remember was my cousin boo-hooing about this guy she was dating. From what I was told, I was put in the car with a plastic bag, driven home, left in the foyer after I knocked over a table and my cousin jumped in her car and left because she didn't want my mom to kick her ass, and my mother found me lying naked on the bathroom floor. The next day was the worst of my life. At one point I was begging for death. I will never be able so smell that shit again without gagging.

Also, vodka and I are sworn enemies.

The "wailing Negro spirituals" part was what sent me over the edge. This is the best post Ive seen in a long time. Fabulous.

First, my hat's off to you, Ted. You are a true atrtiste.

Your love of Chow Yung Fat only increases my admiration.

One level 5 took place on the campus of THE Ohio State University some *cough* years ago.

The Evil Ex, his sister, best friend and me. Stumble from bar to bar. (Damn, it's a lot of bars in the general Buckeye area!) Various types of shots are consumed, one tastes like Dr. Pepper. One contains beer and whiskey. Then, for some odd reason someone was pouring tequila sunrises. There were Long Island Ice teas. I do not know why. At about 2am, a fight broke out because one of our stumbling party touched someone else's car. Police were called, but we managed to get back to the apartment un-arrested. EARLY the next morning, Evil Ex's parents show up unexpected, and take us to breakfast at Denny's. No, we should not have been out drinking. Thanks for asking. To this day I don't know how I kept that food down for as long as I did. Ever had table spins at Denny's while watching someone eat sausage? Gooood tiiiiimes. There are few things worse than having a nasty hangover and having to pretend that you don't.

one tastes like Dr. Pepper

I do know that one -- most likely the "Flaming Dr. Pepper" of yore: one pilsner beer in a large glass -- Budweiser is fine for this purpose -- leaving some room for company; one shot glass half filled with amaretto; top shot glass with Bacardi 151 and quickly light on fire (because, that's why); drop shot glass into beer; immediately drain entire contents. The result should be a Dr. Pepper flavor and a deep, abiding buzz. It's actually pretty fun, though somewhat juvenile. We did these a lot in college, lo these many years ago. tb

Also, vodka and I are sworn enemies.

Fight the good fight, homey.

I can only encounter vodka in the neutralizing sweet of the Long Island Iced Tea, like putting onions into a saucy, salty stir fry. Bad high school experiences, like when Paul brought over that "Thirst Terminator" (big ass cup from Subway when T2 came out) full of vodka, as I was sobering up from the hodgepodge we'd all been drinking earlier. I was bummed that his sister got rid of me on the phone (bad, bad, evil crush) and we did shots back and forth. If you're sobering up, GO WITH IT. Lesson learned. That was bad. My friends loved that, while heaving, I paused to shout out "EEYAAAH!" the next morning when someone was playing "Minimum Wage". Then the family, including out of town relatives, came to pick me up.

My very first hangover, the previous fall, with dry heave and bloody eyeball trimmings, came courtest of red Cisco. http://bumwine.com/cisco.html if you're not familiar.

I drank it like "wine". Not like plutonium. Lesson Learned. The next morning it was "oh, so it's like this....well, this pretty much sucks" and it got worse from there. Then I had to be driven back to my aunt's house where we were the out of town visiting relatives who were going to grandma's for brunch. I tried the hot shave and shower, with a little heaving on my knees, but I was still nauseated. I finally fessed up to having an "upset stomach" and they let me stay behind.

Man, they totally knew what was up both times. You think you're clever and got away with shit. No, years later you hear "you were so trashed".

Yes! The flaming Dr. Pepper. I think I just had a flashback to that night and the horrible delayed reaction hangover which only really took hold about a day later.

I need to go take two ibuprofens and eat some greasy Chinese food...

I envy all of you drinkers. Due to some cruel twist of fate and genetics, any significant amount of alchohol results in either a level 4 or 5 hangover. Needless to say, one glass of wine with dinner will give me a level one if I don't hydrate for the rest of the night. That's with food, people. Pity me.

Enjoy your ability to imbibe alchohol. I'll be here with my soda water and lime and a punch in the neck, you magnificent bastards.

Socalled/Ted, I am so happy you finally posted this. I'm actually in your neck of the woods this weekend and will probably be experiencing differing levels of hangover in the next couple of days. I'll make sure I raise one of my wine glasses to you.

Hahaha... I'm right there with you, brit. My only genuinely pukey hangover was the result of White Russians at a Communist Party where I fell down the stairs. They're so delicious that you don't even realize you've exceeded your limit... and then some.

Oh, late to the orgy as usual.

Bethy, Saint Bibiana is awesome, thanks for pointing her out. I wonder, does she come in medal form, like Saint Christopher, so that one might wear her about one's neck? I went through epileptic interludes as a child, and (more than) occasional bouts of general loopyness as an adult, so she might come in handy.

Also, the spins. The christing spins! I'm too drunk at this point to keep track, but whoever mentioned hugging the floor to alleviate this scourge, hell yes! Get as low as possible, and cling for your very life. Preferably directly on solid Mother Earth, as dirt/grass has amazing vomit absorbing properties.

My greatest drinking lesson came from my very first attempt to get balls-out drunk. I knew that there was such a thing as a limit, but had no idea what my own limit might be, or even a close approximation to start from (now that I'm typing this, I feel as though I've typed it before....stop me if you've heard this one). Long story short, I had at least (AT LEAST!!) ten shots of Jack Daniels and peppermint schnapps in a one hour time span. Oooooh, yeah. Let the horking commence.

Oddly enough, I was not hungover the next day. Oh, to be 19 again. But to this day, the smell of either whiskey or peppermint *glurge* schnapps sends me into peremptory dry heaves.

to those of you who have never awoke in a sweat-drenched, 180-proof heap with a hangover for a lover and bedhog, i share with you these words:

just you freakin' wait.

i used to drink like a fish, i mean seriously it took at least ten drinks to get me tipsy (big tall irish girl here, what can i say) and it'd be a mixed bag to boot- long islands, car bombs, straight up vodka, margs, fire and ice --you name it, it was consumed. in the wee hours before the sun ruined the fun, said alcohol was followed by copious bowls of drunk food (spaghetto was my college friends' collective favorite, that being spaghetti made out of ramen noodles) and a few more parting shot nightcaps of a gin-type persuasion. and then, like some sort of silent rooster, i'd wake up at 8:30 in the am, wide-eyed and gleeful, and make everyone pancakes. pangoddamncakes with syrup and even orange juice. the roommates and their friends were peeling beer labels off their faces and listerining the everloving hell out of their boozey mouths, and i was immune to their plight. i never held back from reminding them either, because i majored in twattery with a minor in dumbshitting.

until the singular goddamn day i turned 25. show was over. nature finally shat and/or got off the pot, took away my 'hangover proof since 82!' trophy and didn't even give me a bottle of goddamn advil for my troubles. the switch done switcheth, and suddenly i understood the need for calling out of work for fear of vomiting my spleen onto the copier. fuck you nature, you sadistic twat.

so in short: just you wait, you harpies. you'll get yours. and if you don't, then i hate you more than i already do. now go fetch me a vodka tonic.

These descriptions are awesome Ted! I kind of like categorizing things (especially aftermaths) and hangovers are always a slippery slope of confusion...now I know exactly where I hit the chart this last New Years on five (maybe six and a cigarette?) Smirnoff Ices (astonishingly terrible choice from a limited set of options) when I had to endure my evil mother-in-law babysitting my two small children in front of me all damn day. I could not lift my head, but for to hurl sippy cups worth of water while listening to the Backyardigans scree along a cowboy adventure.

Far removed from my 20's, from which I have a lovely poloroid of my collection of over 80 Smirnoff bottles lovingly positioned into a fade-to-distance arrangement. I was in art school, and had a major passion for Bukowski - so I drank alone (oooohhh, SO dangerous, was I!) while painting horrid homework projects and listening to Pop Will Eat Itself. Good times. Except for the liver damage, and the body odor. But hell, 95lbs and could hold her liquor. Gramma Jean woulda been proud.

My mother-in-law? Not so much.

"At the same time, the body goes into a toxin elimination state, cleansing the blood at an elevated rate to remove the waste products of alcohol metabolization, resulting in increased elimination of moisture -- stale, stinky booze pee."

Not to be a science-nitpick, but the dehydration has nothing to do with removing toxins from your body. In fact, alcohol is metabolized to acetic acid, the same compound as in vinegar, which is harmless when diluted throughout the body. The dehydration is a result of ethanol suppressing the release of antidiuretic hormone (ADH). ADH basically prevents your kidneys from diluting your urine with as much water as can pass through the filtration, so if ADH is abnormally low you will become dehydrated unless you drink water.

"The stomach and intestines are somewhat sensitive to alcohol, and a large amount can cause inflammation and even a minor poison reflex[...]"

...because alcohol is a poison...

Then don't drink it, Myrtle. tb

Let me see...

My latest hangover would have to be a level-three, it happened about two weeks ago. I helped a friend's sister move out of her apartment and she insisted on buying us some rounds at the bar afterwards. I ordered a few Chimay Bleue (9°). Little did I know they didn't bother leaving the fond in the bottle while pouring my glass. Add the fact that I hadn't eaten for twelve hours.

That Thursday night was spent with dreaded bedspins (I HATE those, virulently), praying to the porcelain god and 3 soaked hours of sleep.

Still, I was able to get up, dressed, shaved and drive to work. Where I mouthed everybody off and didn't do anything remotely productive. But still not one day of sick leave on my account!

My Braveheart count lies around three or four. One was combined with salmonella poisoning. I needed three different buckets.

I Love The Replacement Killers. Anytime, not just when hungover.

"Just a really enjoyable film; Mira is vulnerable and funny, Chow is all kinds of charisma. Fantastic. tb"

Yes! I want to have Chow's babies. :D
And I would turn gay for Mira. I'm sure I would have listed her in the *who would you turn gay for* diversion.

What a strange career she's had. Put her up there with Marisa Tomei on the list of "Actresses Whose Careers Were Basically Derailed by Winning an Oscar." She features prominently in my favorite film, Barcelona, and she's great in TRK. I love her in Mimic, as trashy as that was, and she's all kinds of funny in Romy & Michelle's High School Reunion. Mighty Aphrodite was about my least favorite thing she's been in, but I'm not much for Woody Allen. tb

I certainly won't stick my head under the slanted blade by trying to argue with your firmly stated 'Five and Five only' rule, however, for years now I have (perhaps mistakenly) been operating under the somewhat Darwinian retro-evolution scale of detoxification trauma.

The scale, deceptively simple, proposes that alcohol devolves the human cerebral-spinal system along an evolutionary axis. Oddly enough (or, perhaps, not oddly at all) there are five levels of devolution.

(Alcohol amounts for average male without pre-existing Leaving Las Vegas level alcoholism, slightly less than two meters in height, slightly less than 100 kilograms. Adjust amounts accordingly. Subtract one drink for every square meal missed on the day of the alcohol consumption).

Level 1 - Great Ape: Three or Four drinks. The subject can use basic tools, understand spoken commands and even form simple sentences using a combination of key-pad devices (i.e. txt-messaging mass apologies and awkwardly belated requests for PTO). Subject still capable of hang-over coitus (which, unlike pre-intoxication or intoxicated sex, may alleviate some symptoms by way of post-orgasm dopamine release). While appearing significantly de-humanized, the subject is essentially human, suffering mostly from a mal/dysfunctional speech-center and bad/funny hair.

Level 2 - Canine: Five or six drinks. Subject can still understand most spoken commands but cannot communicate anything beyond either enthusiasm or shame, with the former being significantly less likely to occur. Use of tools is rarely if ever observed. Subject in Level 2 Devolution cases will, like in Level 1, be capable of coitus and may engage in it unprovoked.

Level 3 - Naked Mole Rat: Seven or Eight drinks. Subject may understand emotional cues, but due to a highly elevated state of agoraphobia and photophobia, a Level 3 Subject will avoid attempt to remain under the covers in a fetal position. Subject unlikely to engage in coitus and will not leave its burrow unless moved by force.

Level 4 - Clam: Nine or Ten drinks. Subject will remain unresponsive to most stimuli, its sensory organs having been rendered something like vestigial by the devolutionary process. Subject will open and close its mouth at roughly regular intervals to ingest food and expel waste (these processes are not, tragically, as distinct as they are at the lower levels of hangover). Subject is, essentially, asexual and is has no practical sexual utility (with the possible, and highly frowned upon, exception of their use in the fulfillment of coma-patient fantasies).

Level 5 - Amoeba: In excess of ten drinks. Subject is cognitively dead and only actually alive at all in the barest, most technical sense of the word. However, if - for whatever reason - one wanted to keep a level 5 subject alive in the hopes of a recovery beyond the protozoa kingdom, it should be placed in a cool, damp environment and left (the fuck) alone for at least 48 hours.

Yes!