Feeling Offal, Just Offal
It’s 5:06 am*. All is quiet except for a gentle moaning from me. There’s nothing much to feel today except blankness and hurtin’. It’s called the Wednesday feeling in our house, on account of our Tuesday nights playing trivia at the bar:
“Feeling a bit Wednesday, Sami?”
“Moan.”
‘Cos see, last night we scored free drinks at Trivia again. In addition, despite Sunday, and despite all my offal shrieking Noooo! at me in the background, I’d apparantly made up my mind I was thirsty again . At 32 I just can’t keep up the pace, people. Whereas 10 years ago I could call getting over-served twice in 4 days being on a roll, now my wretched body pleads, Please, I only wanted to be on a stroll!
If you’re under 25 you might not know about this what with still having young livers that can bounce pinkly back. (Damn you and your kind!)
It feels like my consciousness has been driven back into a wee corner while all the other brain parts are shut down for maintenance and repair. I feel like the blinking curser (sic) at the top left of the blank page. I know that somewhere out there on the dark page is my sense of humour, my joi de vivre, my ability to blink without having to concentrate, but I just can’t type my way down to them. I am Several Pixels Girl blinking inanely in the dark. The blue glow of my screen feels lovely and restful. I hope I don’t blink out altogether…
In other offal news, Problemchild 2 was running around the other day with two pink jackets pressed to her chest with her thumbs. She was yelling “Look at my lungs! Look at my lungs!” at the top of her voice, clearly in great glee over her cotton-mix lungs. Now what do you suppose that was all about?
Right, I’m off to use bad language and to try out some of your dubious remedies from the other day.
Love,
The Problem-Child-Lush.
* The wee one was up with bad dreams.
March 21st, 2007 at 1:50 pm
Ah, the days of yesteryear. It’s amazing the things that pop up (or not) to remind us we’re getting older.
Cheers.
March 21st, 2007 at 5:01 pm
Poor old thing, you need some spicy food and a glass of wine or two, I don’t knwo why but that sort of thing helps a whole lot.
March 21st, 2007 at 5:13 pm
Rand, re “or not,” you know you can get a pill for that…
fmc, macaroni cheese for breakfast is proving successful, so far. O folly! I am your slave!
March 21st, 2007 at 5:29 pm
Wednesdays like that are the exact (and only) reason I gave up playing in a darts league. Now I play pub trivia on some Wednesdays and so Thursdays are the new Wednesdays.
And so on.
Macaroni and Cheese for breakfast! You are my HERO!
March 21st, 2007 at 5:42 pm
God, Andraste, it’s ambrosia to me right now. I’m going to have another bowl.
I couldn’t hit a dartboard to save my life but pub trivia is much more my speed. The emotion! Fierce whispering and waggling fingers; someone getting it and everyone screaming Shoosh! Interteam spying capers; the highs; the lows; the middles; it’s all good.
March 21st, 2007 at 6:06 pm
Booze is indeed the Devils vomit. I stopped my wild ways when my little boy Trevor came up to me and asked,”daddy why do you always smell like beer?” well I had to stop my wild ways then, just long enough to clout him round the ear for interrupting my drinking and to tell him to stand outside the pub and not move this time.
March 21st, 2007 at 6:31 pm
Old K, that’s the thing about wild ways – they’re very flexible like that. You can take that bit of time you need to educate your child. You can take those bathroom breaks. No man wants wild ways in the Gents. Apart from the men that do, of course…
March 21st, 2007 at 6:59 pm
“Whereas 10 years ago I could call getting over-served twice in 4 days being on a roll, now my wretched body pleads, Please, I only wanted to be on a stroll! ”
This is such a great line, I don’t even know where to begin.
March 21st, 2007 at 7:03 pm
Yours is the best desription of my morning after feeling I’ve seen! I swear off alcohol every time. I just won’t learn!
March 21st, 2007 at 7:22 pm
Hi Amanda, thanks for stopping by and commenting. It is clear to me that you are a woman who knows exactly what I mean. You are very welcome here!
Jali, hello! Yep, it’s amazing how the human brain can forget pain. Mine forgets it weekly. I won’t learn either. I’ve just been visiting Amanda’s and she has a seafood recipe there I’m drooling over – it looks like great hangover food. Thanks for coming to say hi!
March 21st, 2007 at 7:45 pm
Gorillas imbibe fire-water at their own peril. We lose the ability to distinguish between a female in oestrus and a man in an ape suit. Booze is the destroyer of our dignity.
March 21st, 2007 at 9:37 pm
At least you have a decent excuse for being up at such an hour. Kansas’ fucking alarm clock goes off at fucking 4:30 AM EVERYDAY. Hangover or no…being up BEFORE dawn has cracked is just fucked up.
March 22nd, 2007 at 12:34 am
Sam, you are correct viz. medication, but I prefer the old-fashioned way: fishnet stockings, a garter belt, and vinyl pumps with 4 inch heels.
Of course, the EMBLOS is welcome to dress up, as well.
Cheers.
March 22nd, 2007 at 12:42 am
Need hangover cure too. Leaving country forever and haven’t packed. Playing on intermenet instead of packing. Eek!!!!
March 22nd, 2007 at 2:17 am
Nanas, are gorillas maudlin drunks or cheery drunks? Do they weep over lost gorilla love when on the fire-water, or does hope play in their hairy chests and folly in their noble heads? Does this combination of hope and folly and hairy chests and noble heads lead to stuffy noses? Is that how you are rendered insensitive to oeastrus scent? Might a gorilla on the swally be accurately called off his nose or right bloomin’g noseless?
Kara, what in the wide world is Kansas doing getting up at that time? God bless those that do that to earn their bread. God bless the bakers and the nurses and the postmen, every one.
Randall, you saucy devil, you know I love you in fishnets. *Fans flushed face furiously*
Carolyn, did my last comment over your way work? I wasn’t sure it had taken. Speedy emergency treatments such as yours don’t involve honey or lemon juice or fry ups or anything like that. You need chemicals: Pain chemicals and wakey wakey chemicals. Red Bull and Tylenol, m’girl and fast. I hope the move back to Oz goes without a hitch. I bet you’ve got masses more to tke home than you arrived in Port Morseby with.
March 22nd, 2007 at 3:37 am
Fortyone years old? Why, you little Lolita temptress.
All the best Rabbit Girl.
AHK. XXX
March 22nd, 2007 at 4:21 am
I always eat my way out of a hangover. I’m not sure why but I seem to have hollow legs when hungover. Of course this only works if it is not one of those throwing up and violently ill hangovers, just for those headachey feeling a little off and achey hangovers. Anything starchy and carb loaded is what I crave. Although sometimes I have a bacon sandwich, in which case I get lettuce put on it so I can pretend it’s a balanced meal.
March 22nd, 2007 at 5:11 am
Maroon, sweetheart, come with me and sit down for a minute. I think we’re having the old commenting on the wrong blog problem, hun. I suspect you wanna be over at Andraste’s who is turning 41 today and does have a rabbit avatar. Now we’ve spoken about this wandering before, this turning up in the lobby of the wrong place. I can’t protect you for much longer, I’m afraid. At some point the authorities will have to get involved. It was damn close with the running naked through the Surrey quilting bee’s blog incident. That took some fast talking and a picture of an oiled up Magnum PI to sort out. Next time we may not be so lucky.
Hi, theotherbear, me too. Little and often. Today I grazed on macaroni cheese in the morning, bananas in the afternoon and rice and eggs for tea. I feel smashing now! But I think what you eat the next day depends a lot on what you drank the night before. Beer or wine – I’m good – I can eat like a horse. The hint of any spirits and I lie in a queasy little ball the next day, unable to even smell the coffee. I guess I’m just not a very spiritual person. I love that strong drinks are called spirits, don’t you?
March 22nd, 2007 at 10:49 am
Sounds like the hangover has gone… which is a good thing as I don’t any cures. All I can think about right now is food! I’m so hungry and it’s 2hrs and 10 mins til lunchtime….all this talk of hangover food it making me drool
March 22nd, 2007 at 10:51 am
Yes the powers of recovering def. go in your thirties, they must be in a bit of the gray matter that gets lost.
I’m sure there will be mathematicall equation to explain/express it
s (for shot) x f (frequency
———————————- = powers of recovery
y for years of age
But that’s probably not it as I was rubbish at Maths, and having young children will be a variable
March 22nd, 2007 at 11:39 am
I haven’t been drunk since new year’s eve. You’ve made me desperate to get hammered, Sam. No, I’ll never learn.
March 22nd, 2007 at 4:21 pm
Maybe the time has come to become something of an epicure – it happens to us all – if we have a grain of sense -where we rein in our quaffing and sip instead of slurping and buy better wines and ssssavouuuuuuuuur them. It’s quite a pleasant ocupation and proves that truly less is more.
March 22nd, 2007 at 9:02 pm
No time now – have to dash – children waiting – will reply to your lovely comments when i get back.
x
March 23rd, 2007 at 12:43 am
birchsprite, I was reading somewhere today about activated carbon pills that are supposes to absorb the impurities in the alcohol we drink that make hangovers so bad. They looked pretty good to me, but then what do I know? I buy miracle cleaning fluids from telly ads, for pity’s sake.
Apprentice, that formula is elegant in its simplicity and I believe you’ve nailed it but, you’re right, children throw it all to whack. You need a page of calculations just to factor in babysitting and another on how to feed them breakfast the next morning when you can barely stand to look at food. But it’s all good; it stops you from doing it very often.
Kav, we won’t will we. I didn’t intend to get so trolleyed, and 10 years ago I could have had twice the amount and still been fine, but my window of comfortable buzziness is shrinking with every passing year, I think.
Pat, you’re absolutely right, of course, and by and large I follow that but I can hardly tell what my hangoverless limit is any more. It’s a question of the less you drink, the less you have to. Still, it makes me a cheap date!