The six star hangover!

I've received an e-mail about the different kinds of hangovers, but the six star hangover just took me back to my party days. Actually, just took me back to last weekend. Nevertheless, I'm sharing it with you, but edited it according to my experiences. If you can't relate, then you haven't partied. And I mean, partied.

You arrive home after a party and climb into bed. Sleep comes instantly, as you were fighting it all the way home in the taxi. You get about 2 hours sleep until the noises in your head wake you up. You notice that your bed has been cleared for take-off and is flying relentlessly around the room. It's spinning really fast and you're clutching the duvet in the hope not to fall off. No matter what you do now, you're going to chuck. You stumble out of bed and notice that your room as turned into a yacht under full sail with rough seas under your feet. Is this even your room? After stumbling down the passage, alternating between the two walls, you find your way to the toilet. The light has never seemed so bright. Hopefully you are lucky enough to reach the toilet in time and remember to lift the lid before you spontaneously explode. You wake the whole house up with your impersonation of walrus mating calls. You sit there on the floor in your undies, clutching the only friend you have left in the world (the toilet), randomly continuing to make the walrus noises, spitting, and farting. Help usually comes at this stage, even if it is short-lived. Tears stream down your face and your abdomen hurts. Help now turns into abuse and your partner usually goes back to bed, leaving you there in the dark. With your stomach totally empty, your spontaneous eruptions have died back to 15-min intervals, but your body won't relent. You are convinced that you are starting to turn yourself inside out and swear that you saw your tonsils shoot out of your mouth on the last occasion. Or was that perhaps a piece of your liver? It is now dawn and you pass your disgusted partner getting up for the day as you try to climb into bed. Your partner abuses you again for trying to get into bed with lumpy bits or dried vomit in your hair. You reek of vomit, tequila and cigarettes, and your body is ice cold. All you want now is sleep, but you reluctantly accept your partner's advice and have a shower in exchange for them driving you to the hospital. Death seems like an easy way out. Work is simply not an option. The whole day is spent trying to avoid anything that will make you sick again, like moving. You want to cry but that would take the last drop of moisture out of your body. All you want now is a full English breakfast with loads of fries and a 2L Creamsoda. You vow never to touch a drop of alcohol again and who knows, for the next two or three hours you might even succeed.

Ok, now hands up all those who have had a six star hangover! Thought so.

(Image found here)