The Day After The St. Patrick’s Day Before
I need a remedy. Send me your best ones; this is very possibly a matter of life and death.
It’s too painful to go on. It hurts to type.
I need a remedy. Send me your best ones; this is very possibly a matter of life and death.
It’s too painful to go on. It hurts to type.
March 18th, 2007 at 6:58 pm
Hugs always help
((HUGS))
March 18th, 2007 at 7:16 pm
and some understanding smiles (that last beer was too much), and a teaspoonful of fresh grinded coffee and the juice of a lemon (old barbarian recepy, for a second you hate the whole world, but the relief afterwards is unbelieveble)
March 18th, 2007 at 8:21 pm
I think that Jeeves invented the foolproof cure for a hangover. Do you think an icepack on the head would be any good?
March 18th, 2007 at 10:39 pm
Some say laughter is the best medicine but they are teatotallers and Rechabites to a man.
The best cure is to keep your head down for two hours doing household chores, phone one’s mother etc. this allieviates the guilt, then take two hedex extra (added codine) with PG Tips tea, a half hour after that, have a light refreshment, cider or spritzer or something, then gently ease yourself into a couple of stiff vodkas.
This is a CURE, don’t do it every day or you’ll end up an alky, and no one likes them.
March 19th, 2007 at 12:11 am
Fake it ’til you make it. It’s the best I have.
Hopefully you are feeling better by now
March 19th, 2007 at 12:18 am
Have you tried a bloody mary? They are supposed to be good for the next day.
Or have one of whatever you had yesterday.
March 19th, 2007 at 1:22 am
Where’s it gone? I tried to post this on my own flamin’ blog and it didn’t work. I suspect it’s me.
Let’s try it again:
Bigger Hugs, thank-you. Hugs are lovely but today is a day for staying as absolutely still as I can manage it. My fingers are feebly tapping this, but I fear a full-on hug today might kill me. Why do we do it? Why can’t I learn?
Jen, would that I had only had one too many. Your cure sounds intriguing. Are you supposed to put the lemon juice directly onto the coffee and take it from a spoon? Won’t the spoon dissolve? It brings tears to my eyes just to think about it. Today I weep tears of purest alcohol.
Nanas, chopping off my head might help a bit.
Dr. Maroon, “phone one’s mother?” Are you a madman? I was expecting an elaborate recipe including raweggs and monkey-sweat from you – a little something that you’d picked up at the Cape, perhaps. I’m not really a vodka drinker but if I am having any I always have them stiff. Floppy vodkas just don’t do it for me.
Eddie Waring, I wish I could have. I was forced to tell my own children that mummy is sore all over because I had too much barley-pop. Why didn’t I lie? I was in much too weakened a condition to lie.
Theotherbear, my husband always swore by bloody marys. He doesn’t partake quite so much these days but he used to be an expert on which bars in the Twin Cities metropolitan area served the best 11am bloody marys.
March 19th, 2007 at 4:52 am
I am very experienced in this. I have to say that when I have the voms if anybody comes near me, let alone tries to hug me, they will be puked upon. I believe in a teaspoon of crushed fresh ginger (straight if you can bear to swallow it, otherwise make it into tea), lots of lemonade, and a massive fry-up. Moaning helps, too. And groaning, and looking pathetic. Good luck!
March 19th, 2007 at 6:26 am
Lie naked on the bathroom floor and sleep thats what I do, I wish someone would clean that floor sometime, theres a reason its called a ‘hit and miss.’
March 19th, 2007 at 6:35 am
Carolyn, ginger got me through 2 trimesters of pregnancy and I did have some Canada Dry today but it wasn’t enough to dent this stonking great gorgon of a hangover. A fry up would damn nearly have killed me. But I did loads of the old moaning and groaning – looking pathetic came very naturally today – and that did help quite a bit.
Knudsen, sheesh man you’re making it worse, you and your hit and miss. How was your head today?
March 19th, 2007 at 11:18 am
Crying….very gently
Cheese and Onion tayto crisps
Orange juice
sleep
new head
March 19th, 2007 at 1:14 pm
Silence,
Darkness,
A feed of rashers,sausages,black pud and fried mushies
A gallon of tay
2 (no more) highly potent Bloody Mary’s
All served by a lightly-oiled Henry Rollins (Knudsen was unavailable that day)
LOTS more silence and darkness.
March 19th, 2007 at 2:27 pm
Booze, booze and more booze. Sorry, but the only tried and trusted way out is to drink your way through it. I find red wine mixed with fizzy water refreshing and just alcoholic enough to offset the withdrawal symptoms.
Of course that creates the problem of the The Day After The Day After The St. Patrick?s Day Before but maybe someone else has a solution for that…
March 19th, 2007 at 5:13 pm
Gatorade — Nap — Biscuits and Gravy — Nap.
Cheers.
March 19th, 2007 at 6:28 pm
Sam, are you better now?
you mix the grinded coffee and the juice, put it in a spoon, close your eyes, take the hellish mixture, swallow, curse-curse-curse, hate me for 5 minutes, throw up as a side effect (possible when young, not married and sissies), and then – blue skies and angel chores!
oh, missed to add – good steak and a beer, if you can stand the view of the bottle (try draught better).
March 19th, 2007 at 7:01 pm
I’m sending you the collected sermons of John Wesley together with some Temperance tracts. Good Lord, young lady, do you not know that the road to the pub really leads to h*ll?
March 19th, 2007 at 11:10 pm
birchsprite, crisps and orange juice and profane language have helped me before, but out here the kind of crisps that do the magic are only available in specialist British shops and at ridiculous cost. Like a bad Brownie Guide I was unprepared; a very bad, drinking sort of a Brownie in this case; the sort of bad, drinking Brownie that makes the mothers of the other Brownies hug their girls tighter for fear their wee ones turn into bad-ass Brownie’s like me. Oh God, What am I talking about?
Hangar Queen, silence and darkness are well out in our house, I’m afraid. The girls know nothing of their mother’s dissoluteness and, at 4, pity not the hungover. I’d eat a lightly oiled Henry Rollins before I’d eat a black pudding.
Caro, and that thinking made Britain and Ireland the great bastion of moderate-drinking we are today. But you know what, hair of the dog sometimes work. I’ve seen it with my own eyes: hard drinking, highly productive people doing difficult jobs whilst never, ever entirely sobering up. It depends on the job though. You can’t do it if you’re a ferry captain but you can if you’re a journalist. I had an amazing little old Latin teacher at school who was drunk most of the time but also the sharpest teacher I ever had. Then again there was our biology teacher who would fall asleep while waiting for the class to answer the question he’d just asked. I also knew people growing up who drank their whole lives, creating misery for their families; who then after heart-attack 1 found religion, quit the sauce and became so sanctimonious and unbearable about the sins of everyone else that the family would be sorely tempted to slip him a wee something in his coffee to make him a more likeable human being again.
Rand’, biscuits and gravy and Gatorade, all sloshing around together in your tummy? You have the heart of a lion and the stomach of an ox, man, to face such a mixture the morning after. As does…
Jen, You are a greater woman than I that can down such bitter medicines. Could I substitute cocoa for the coffee, do you think? I know, I know, I just haven’t got what it takes. I’m an embarrassment to my race.
Foots, it is my belief that the road to hell is paved with Temperance tracts. In fact I believe the road is actually called Wesley Way.
March 20th, 2007 at 12:16 am
One word.
Bacon.
That was the word. Just in case you thought you missed it.
I ate like an entire plate of it on Sunday.
March 20th, 2007 at 1:28 am
And Sam read the Word of Kara, and saw that it was Good and that it Sizzled and was Yummy. But you know, bacon always smells better than it tastes to me.
March 20th, 2007 at 10:59 am
You must start the cure before the hangover hits. As soon as you’re done drinking (and possibly puking), take one 800 mg. tablet of Motrin with about a half a gallon of water (Arrowhead is nice), drunk in the space of about a half an hour. Every time you wake up to pee, drink another big glass of water. It flushes your system out great, and the Motrin relieves the headache pain while also being a mild muscle relaxant, whcih will relieve the aches and pains that accompany a hangover. The waking up to pee every two hours will also help you stretch your muscles, so you don’t wake up all sore and crampy. There’s some science-y thing behind it, why alcohol affects your muscles, but damned if I can remember it right now.
Oh, and the Bloody Mary works great in the morning…. Make it with V8 juice, a splash of Lea & Perrins Worcestershire sauce, and a squeeze of lemon. You’ll have all of your necessary nutrients, and be able to stomach food by dinnertime, after which you’ll be set for your next round of drinking.
March 20th, 2007 at 1:35 pm
Query: Should we all be vaguely alarmed that we have so much information to share on this topic?
Screwdriver, anyone?
Cheers.
March 20th, 2007 at 2:57 pm
Bed my girl PDQ! Come along now! Chop chop! Do I have to come over there?
March 21st, 2007 at 1:31 am
A large fried breakfast: fried bread, black pudding, eggs, sausages, beans, tomatoes, all washed down with a pint of Guinness is what used to sort me out.
March 21st, 2007 at 8:25 am
Several pints of water and a couple of strong painkillers. Mind you, if the stomach is rolling like a ship on the high seas then its probably best to stagger into the bathroom, stick a finger down the throat and get it over with. A quick ‘hallo’ to god on the big white telephone and you’ll definitely feel much better.
Don’t make the mistake the of puking in the kitchen sink though, because the lumps are a bitch to get rid of and have to be individually pushed down the plug hole with a pencil.
March 21st, 2007 at 5:35 pm
Fat Sparrow, It’s not my muscles I worry about. It’s the death of large parts of my brain. I never used to get so much as a headache but now, it’s like I can feel the cells dying in there.
Randall, I would rather take a screwdriver between the eyes than drink a real one. Can’t stand ‘em.
Pat, oh would you? Would you come over and give me hugs and scrambled eggs? Oh that would be lovely.
Emma, you’re another person who’s said a fry-up. In principle, I agree. It’s a great mopping up meal. It works a treat for my brother but then he has superior genes to me. See, it’s the edges of the fry-up I can’t stand. Where the leading edge of the beans mixes with the grease from the fried bread and that all mixes with egg yolk. Why must that bother me and not him? And even when I point it out he just laughs and mixes it up more while I stare on in horror. Bad genes, I tell you. It seems to be a basic lesson of drinking, a survival skill I never got. Hungover? Ergo fry-up. ot knowing this makes me weaker in the pack and more likely to be eaten by something else. Bad, bad genes is what it is.
Asym42 , Didn’t you used to be Asym21? My husband and kids went through vomitting disease around New Year. Well did I learn the kitchen sink lesson.
March 21st, 2007 at 6:14 pm
In all seriousness, try a glass of buttermilk. I remember when that worked for my daddy, along with a little sympathy, of course.