The yearly condition continues. This is not something that I am by any means proud of, in fact, I’m pretty sure I’ll end up going to hell because of it, but it seems to have become a tradition that I just cannot break. For the past three years, I have been hungover on the day that Jesus rose from the dead. Please keep in mind that I don’t do this on purpose–it just happens. In fact, this year I made a conscious effort to avoid it, but instead ended up with the worst hangover of the three, so far.
The first year was a fluke thing. A bunch of us went to a party in the boonies where there was far too much hard alcohol, which lead to too many specialty shots–Jaeger Bombs, Buttery Nipples, Shit on the Grass, etc. There was also a wide variety of Smirnoff Ice flavors as well, if I remember correctly. At the time it was all in good fun…until someone starts puking and no one is able to drive home. The next morning I was so sick I lost my eggs and bacon and ended up having to meet my family later on in the day because I was too sick to go anywhere.
Year two wasn’t quite as bad. A small Guitar Hero party where I did a big no-no: mixing of liquors; beer and 7&7’s to be exact. I woke up sick and pukey, with a terrible stomach ache for most of the day. Luckily, Easter was being celebrated at our house that year, so I didn’t have to try and go anywhere. I did have to try and be social, which was hard when I was doubled over in stomach pain. Oh well, live and learn.
This year was by far the worst. So bad, (and I’m embarrassed to admit) that I didn’t even make to see my family, and I now live 500 miles away from these people, so it’s not like I see them often to begin with. I had more than my fair share of fun the night before too–so much fun, that I can’t even remember half of it. I’m fairly positive that I should have been cut-off and thrown out of the bar and that I peed in two very public areas and puked in another. Luckily I have pictures to remind me of what I missed, while I was there. The hangover itself lasted until about 5pm Easter day, and the puking didn’t stop until around 2pm.
I have only myself to blame for this masochistic debauchery. The thing that bothers me the most is that I actually tried to avoid this behavior, alas to no avail. I told myself, two beers and I’m done; and boy was I right– two Big Ass Beers equaled a complete loss of inhibition, which lead to more more Big Ass Beer.
I guess I can only hope that I’ve finally learned my lesson and have the self control to be able to redeem myself next year. And the year after that, and the year after that, and the year after that.