Headaches, upset stomach, bleary eyes, kicking fat girls out of your bed before they raid your fridge- nothing about a hangover is fun. I've found that, while you can't always avoid the hangover, you can get a step ahead of it and evade it for a few hours. Hangover-You will find and catch you, but if you add enough insanity to your morning routine you can keep him busy long enough to enjoy a few hours of fun. And, since Regular-You, Depressive-You, and Reasonable-You are all wrapped up in the hangover, the You that is left to enjoy your morning is Manic-You, which is my favorite You of all. You get all that?
|Roses are red, Violets are blue, I'm schizophrenic and so am I.|
The key when you first wake up is to sprint away from Hangover's icy-clutches with some immediate ridiculousness. For me, this usually means creating an Olympic event out of the cat-put, which is similar to the shot-put except I fling my cat Ella towards the hamper instead of a 10 pound ball. You may think this is cruel, but she's the one who sits by my bed and meows for hours on end until I wake up and put food in her dish. And, since I was about to seal the deal with Elizabeth Hurley in my dream, you can imagine my frustration. Don't worry, though- I think that Ella and I both get wrapped up in the majesty of Olympic competition and her hunger and my anger both turn to inspiration. Especially with the theme music that I hear: please listen to the music in this video while looking at a few artistic recreations I made. I think you'll understand how the nobility of the event supersedes any concerns of "safety" or "responsibility." Think slow motion when you imagine my cat hurtling through the air.
Yeah, drink that music in. Let it fill you with grit and determination for a minute before you move on. Oh yeah. There it is.
That's right- suck it, morning.
By the time I've cartwheeled through the house to my coffee machine, Hangover is just waking up and starts looking for me in the bedroom. But I'm not there! Just a heap of clothes and a confused/hungry cat. No, I'm singing loudly in my underwear and drinking coffee in my dining room.
You know how a T-rex's vision is based on movement? I think Hangover's vision is based on stillness. As long as I keep doing crazy shit, the Hangover never seems to catch up to me. This week I searched on Youtube for karaoke videos and found a bunch of Frank Sinatra songs. I'm 27 now, so it's high time I learn all the words to "My Way," right? Thought so. Using a cigarette as a microphone and a coffee cup as my brandy glass, I gave an impromptu nightclub show in my dining room. Pretty sure my thin walls do little to protect my neighbor's ears as they head to their cars in the morning. Oh well- free show for them and live audience for me!
Sometimes I get so into my singing that Hangover almost catches up with me. As he brushes his cold hand along my spine, I feel a moment's panic and overcompensate with misdirection and erratic behavior.
Knowing my manic-energy is a finite resource, Hangover knows he can wait me out. He watches my crescendo of crazy, but underestimates my reserves of still-drunk energy.
Just when Hangover thinks I've finally exhausted myself, I take it to a whole new level. Fun fact: when you're a good trumpet player who hasn't been playing regularly, you can play awesome for about 5 minutes until your lip gives out and you sound like 2 mice farting in a tin can.
Hangover is, however, indeed correct. I am running out of steam. I've sang, conducted, cartwheeled, cat-putted, trumpeted, drank coffee, watched The Office on Hulu, smoked, and made some scramby eggs. My manic tank is near empty and I generally throw everything left into one final shebang: this week? An attempt to play a really high note on my trumpet. An attempt to play a high note. It doesn't go well.
Drained, exhausted, and now nearly passed out from my failed high-note attempts, Hangover finally catches up with me and claims victory. As I lie on the ground, he bestows his evil gifts: upset stomach, tiredness, aching body, eye pain, and meningitis. Okay, maybe not that last one. It still sucks though, and usually lasts the better part of a day.
There's only one way I know of to avoid Hangover: keep drinking. That's right, like my dad says, "the only problem with drinking is when you stop." The problem with this idea is that, the next day, Hangover is going to show up again. With his crew. And it's going to be worse. A lot.
But hey- worry about tomorrow when it gets here! Until then, crack a fresh Keystone, fire up Hulu, and tell Hangover he can go fuck himself!
Caleb "Did you hear it? I hit a high C. Did you hear it? Did you? I heard it." Shreves
PS if you have not done so yet, go check out this video of me singing the national anthem. I recorded myself in The Nerv's studio, then sang 5 harmony parts with myself. This was definitely the product of a Hangover-avoidance morning!
PPS Normally I don't ever go back and edit a post once it's out, but after re-reading this and really feeling inspired by "Chariots of Fire," I had to go back and add some flair to really help the reader get the majesty and dignity of the cat put event.Tweet