Hangovers are the devils work.

Whoever invented the hangover, is surely sat in hell laughing it up. Bare in mind that I am writing this post with a hangover, which I had planned last week, so gave me all the more fuel for this post. I'm a sociable drinker, I only drink when in the occasion, but when in the occasion, I very rarely hold back. I've never thrown up after a night out, but i'll have the Godzilla of hangovers. 


First off, the night out, is usually quite good. I know how to pull off some pretty memorable dance moves and I usually enjoy myself when in town. I have a good time, but I know what is penultimately coming when I open my eyes on a morning. I usually find myself stumbling through the door between the times of 3 and 4 o'clock. So the hangover usually kicks in at about 10, which is about the time that I usually wake up after a night out.


The first thing you have, is the opening of the eyes. The sudden realisation that you managed to make it home last night, you don't know how, you can't imagine how you managed to work the key in the lock, but you're glad you got home safe. You check your phone for any drunken texts that could have been sent while in your element. Then, it's there. The famously dubbed 'hair of the dog'. The awful taste in your mouth, the indescribable taste which has you running for the nearest tap so you can bleed it dry until the taste is ravished from your mouth. Now, I am wise and take a bottle of water with me before bed, it helps so much in the morning to just reach for the bottle rather than sprinting to the bathroom.


After the hair of the dog has been swiftly brushed from the mouth, you get the slight nausea. As said above, i've never been sick after a night out, but i've been mightily close. You question as to why you drank so much, and swear to never drink again. Only for you to be out same time again next week, none the wiser. The only way to distill the nausea brewing in your stomach, is food. Fry-up, usually ticks all the boxes. 


Then you're left for the rest of the day to wallow in self pity with a pounding headache. It doesn't even make sense to me why alcohol makes it seem as if you've nose dived onto concrete, but it apparently does. You question your every movements last night and wonder if you actually did walk into something last night.


Finally, the peculiar incidents. The things that can't be explained, without texting one of your compatriots of the night to see what happened. After one night out, the hair of the dog kicked in first, then I had an unbelievable pain in my right big toe. A text soon cleared up that I had volleyed a stool, while in my drunken merriment. Not my best idea, but it leads to good memories.


I'm never going to stop drinking, I believe that I am a better person when intoxicated. Some of my best memories in my short lived life so far have been while me and my friends have been bladdered. However, that doesn't stop me hating the aftermath of the Devil's hangover. 


My next moan: The Gym.