Throbbing headache… nausea…dehydration…a state of delirium. A life-threatening illness? No! It’s our old friend, Hangover. He’s perched upon our shoulder, whispering in an I-told-you-so, smug sort of manner, “You never learn, do you?”
He’s right, we have lost count of the times we have unconvincingly muttered those famous not-so-last words…
“I’m never drinking alcohol again!”
Only… months, weeks, days down the line we find ourselves in the same old predicament, nursing a hangover while collecting the broken memories of the night before.
“I don’t know, alcohol? Why don’t you tell me how this traffic cone ended up on my head?”
One thing I know for sure is that alcohol and I are NOT friends.
Allow me to explain why….
1: It makes me think I’ve got those moves like Jagger.
As the music fills the room and I begin to knock back beverages like soda pops, I enthusiastically scream, “I know this song!” Suddenly, the music takes hold of my body, and with one foot tapping, all I can think is, “I need to dance… RIGHT NOW!” Drink in hand, I stagger drunkenly over to the dance floor, ready to throw some shapes. In my head, I am dancing like Beyonce but along comes reality and ‘booty shakes’ my dancing dreams into the corner of YOU CAN’T DANCE! As it turns out, I have less rhythm than an octopus on an ice-rink. An octopus who just so happens to have too many tentacles flapping in every direction. An octopus who got a little overzealous with a dance routine he tried to attempt from vague memory and unintentionally gave someone a black eye.
With my dignity withering down like the vodka in my drinking glass, I
make a swift exit for the door think, “Screw it, one more dance-move won’t hurt!” Those famous last words ring untiringly in my ear, as I pull out the famous ‘caterpillar’ and do myself a back injury.
One back brace later, and I sadly admit, “I haven’t got those moves like Jagger!”
I’ve got those moves like… Jäger
Whether we have those moves like Mick Jagger or not, we all know that once both feet are on that dance floor we ain’t moving until we are the last ones grooving. Once the alcohol is flowing through our bloodstreams, we don’t care what we look like or how many people we take out in the process. In the morning – we recall in mortification – how we danced like there was nobody in the room. Only, there were people in the room…LOTS of them!
Note to self: Step away from the dance floor!
2: It makes me believe I am hilarious, truly hilarious.
I don’t consider myself particularly funny at the best of times, but give me a drink or three, and my jokes become greeted by cockroaches! As the alcohol pours in, the jokes pour out. Oblivious to the unamused faces, eye rolls and yawns, I am under the false belief that I am truly hilarious. So hilarious that I should grab that mic on the karaoke stage and take on the persona of a comedian. What’s a few boos, sneers and moist flying objects to get in my way? Suddenly, the room begins to look big and empty. Wait a minute? Has everyone left the room? Nah, perhaps they went out for a cigarette…all at the same time? Unfazed, I think to myself, “Maybe I should have told the joke about the three maids, the priest and the mango?”
Hardy har har har…*tumbleweed*
That joke about the three maids, the priest and the mango went down like a Jägerbomb at an AA meeting…and we all know how that went down! Why do we think we are hilarious when we have had a few drinks? And more worryingly, why do find the unfunniest things hysterical?
Two glasses of wine and we’re laughing at a beer pump. Three vodka’s later, and we’re in hysterics over a bowl of peanuts! A round of shots and we’re hysterically crying wondering where it all went wrong.
Note to self: Keep the joke book at home!
3: It makes me think it’s acceptable to tell strangers my deepest, darkest secrets.
Striking up an incredibly emotional conversation with whoever happens to be around at that time, seems ever more appealing after my 4th glass of wine. As I hit drunk level 9, my filtered thoughts fall right through my net of acceptable and I now feel like it’s the norm to tell my innermost secrets to complete strangers. Whether it’s revealing my entire dating history to the strangers in the toilets, or telling that person I just met in the taxi queue that they are my ‘soulmate forever’, I just want to get it all off my alcohol-intoxicated chest.
The only problem is, when I’m drunk, my brain and mouth conspire against me, so when I’m trying to pour my heart out to my new BBF’s about my relationship/family/financial problems, what actually happens is that I dribble on my dress before making a series of incoherent noises. If I do manage to construct a comprehensible conversation, it will be a story that, when I find out it is boring mid-way through, ends in bold-faced lies that no one could possibly believe.
We wouldn’t usually tell our deepest, darkest secrets to any old Tom, Dick or Harry, so why do we feel it’s acceptable to do so once we’ve had a drink or…ten? To see the freaked out look upon people’s faces? To unleash our demons and cleanse our souls? …or perhaps because we are just too damn drunk? Ah yes, the latter. I thought so!
Note to self: Keep innermost thoughts locked up inside and throw away the key! (Or at least put the key in a safe place until the morning!)
4: It gives me a bad case of the Beer goggles
Beer goggles: A phenomenon that makes physically unattractive persons appear beautiful, or in other words, kissing people who you would NEVER IN YOUR ENTIRE LIFE want to kiss sober, including people that you will have to SEE IN THE UNFORGIVING LIGHT OF DAY.
Fortunately, this no longer applies to me. I’m happily married and long gone are my days of ugly frog kissing.
But once upon a time, I wore those visually impaired glasses I speak of, and consequently, made some pretty terrible ‘hooking up’ choices. Let’s just say I pulled a couple of trout’s here and there. Under the murky water, they didn’t look so bad. In fact, they looked like a pretty good catch! It all seemed like a great idea in the mind of an alcopop-fuelled teenager.
But fast forward to the morning after the night before *coughs* and in the unforgiving light of day, it was a very different story…
Have you ever woken up and thought, “Oh sh**! Who is this stranger in my bed? If your answer is no, then you are one of the lucky ones…or perhaps we should say, sensible! A bad case of the beer goggles isn’t a laughing matter. We feel undersold, disappointed and when the morning comes, humiliated! A drunken kiss with a frog, we can laugh off. Waking up the next day with a frog on our pillow…
Note to self: Trade the beer goggles for regular glasses!
5: It makes me go all Mariah…SCARY!
Is it me, or is that Karaoke machine calling my name?
Somewhere between the lands of sober and wasted I convince myself that Karaoke is a great idea.
The thing that scares me the most, is the fact that after very few drinks (what can I say? I’m a lightweight!) I feel truly INVISIBLE. Not only do I think I can dance like Beyoncé, but I start to believe I can rock that karaoke too! As I screech power ballads of the 80’s and offend the ears of many, it’s safe to say I am no Mariah Carey! In my head, I can hear cheering and appraisal, but in reality, there is NO ONE LEFT IN THE ROOM. Oh, wait! There is someone left in the room…
All I want for Christmas…is for you to shut the heck up!
Trust me, the karaoke is never calling our name! That poor karaoke machine has had its fair share of awful screeching and renditions of “Let it go, let it gooooooo!” *windows break* Although we sound like Mariah in our heads, the truth is, we don’t. We really, really DON’T!
Note to self: Step away from the Karaoke machine!
6: You make me misplace my things.
After a spot of twerking on the dance floor, I find the contents of my handbag is MISSING! Suddenly, I’m on my hands and knee’s trying to find my phone whilst getting trodden on by what feels like a herd of Cattle. If it isn’t my phone I have lost, it will be my house keys. Yes! A night curled up on my doorstep is pretty standard. “But hey, it’s okay” I have £3.00 left in my pocket, and Donna Kebab is calling my name!”
A game of where’s Wally my damn phone, anyone?
Losing your phone, that is about a descent drunk night. But losing your phone, keys, wallet, and belt? That is the holy grail of drunken nights. It happens to the best of us. And what could be more enjoyable than searching for our ‘misplaced’ items, on all fours, whilst getting trampled on by drunk people in a club. Sounds like another awesome night to me!
Note to self: Leave all valuables at home.
7: It makes me do things I otherwise wouldn’t do…IN A MILLION YEARS!
Alcohol, it makes me do crazy things. It makes me tell people I love them, even though I don’t. It gives me this newfound sense of financial freedom, which I then exert by spending what was left of my rent money on drinks for the person I’ve just met waiting at the bar. If that isn’t bad enough, I go one further and buy endless rounds as if everyone is my friend and money has absolutely no meaning AT ALL!
Whether it’s singing my heart out on the Karaoke, twerking on the dance floor or taking up pole dancing for the night, the world is my oyster and I’m going to grab those pearls and do whatever the heck I want!
If this means momentarily falling asleep on the toilet, then so be it! If this means lying down in the street, then why not? If this means having arguments about trivial things that escalate really dramatically and end up breaking a decade-long friendship, then it’s time to put those damn pearls back in their oyster and step away from the alcohol!
As I wake up with a sense of dread and one lost shoe I begin to think that maybe breaking into someone’s garden and dancing naked in their fountain (Yes, that happened!) wasn’t such a good idea after all!
The world is NOT our oyster!
The more alcohol we consume, the less inhibitions we seem to own. Let’s just take alcohol out of the equation for a moment and think about whether we would do the drunken things we do if we were sober? I thought not. Let’s face it, being drunk is the ONLY time it feels acceptable to urinate in the street. It’s the rare occasion we feel we can tell our friends EXACTLY what you think of them. Whether it’s texting an ex or thinking strip poker is the best idea since sliced bread, you can bet your drunken arse on it, we will regret it the next day.
Note to self: Remember the world is NOT our oyster… not when intoxicated, anyway!
8: It makes me think smoking is cool.
Once upon a time, smoking and drinking came hand in hand. Then along came the smoking ban and banished those dirty smokers onto the cold streets. I’m not a smoker – never have been (Well, there was this one time….) – but put a drink inside me and I am on those cold streets, chain smoking cigarettes like Dot Cotton (God bless her soul)
Not so schhhhmoking!
Smoking. It’s not cool, it’s not clever and it makes our lungs curse us come morning. It’s time for the gruesome twosome (Alcohol and cigarettes) to part ways. How many times can we pull out the old “I only smoke when I drink!”?
Nobody is buying it!
Note to self: Stub out those cigarettes!
9: It makes the simplest of tasks, like walking, problematic.
After a beverage too many, not only do I find it almost impossible to string a sentence together…
“I’m not as think as you drunk I am!”
But even the simplest task – like getting a glass to my lips without drenching myself – becomes impossible. Fixing my hair and makeup in bathroom becomes ‘making the overall look about ten times worse!’ With false lashes on my nose, I attempt to do my best impression of my ‘sober’ walk back to the bar….
…And fail miserably as I end up going splat on the floor.
It’s my queue to go home, but boy does this floor make a comfy bed. After a brief snooze via the floor, I decide it’s probably time I walk s
tumble hobble crawl home.
I briefly debate whether to take public transport, but due to my habit of falling asleep and missing my stop altogether, I decide to crawl home instead!
But even crawling becomes complicated, because halfway home I decide it’s a brilliant idea to carry something random I found in the street, home with me. And as usual, I forget the way back to my house. 3 hours and several police calls made by my worried husband, I burst through the door with …
…My new friend, Nigel!
Why so complicated *Hiccup* everything is?
One minute we’re dancing like sexy mofo’s and the next we’re on the ground pant-less, making out with a shoe. Tequila seems to have that affect, but sadly, once we’ve made a complete and utter fool out of ourselves, there’s just no redeeming it. Ideally we want to make a brief and unobvious escape, but alcohol has turned the most trivial of tasks into a game of mastermind, and, therefore we find ourselves falling flat on our face in front of a full audience.
Note to self: No matter how much you think otherwise, you ARE as think as you drunk you are!
Pangs of paranoia, as I begin to collect the broken pieces of the night before…
Remind you of anything? These are just some of the long list of the insufferable symptoms of a hangover. Once upon a time, I was able to PARTY 4 nights in a row, without so much as a mild headache. As I enter my late twenties, it’s a completely different story. One night of ‘letting my hair down’ costs me, at least 2.5 days of recovery.
While I am in the party spirit, I think it’s a great idea to consume as much alcohol as I physically can. I also think it’s a great idea to stay out until the early hours of the morning. The reality is, I just can’t handle it anymore!
Come morning time, as my alarm screams into my ear and my liver screams even louder, I say to myself “I’m just too old for this shit!”
Ooooo, my head!
Sound familiar to you? Having spent the majority of the morning with our head wrapped around the toilet, we begin to regret partying like a teenager! Gone have the days when we could party all night long, get up in the morning feeling as fresh as a daisy, and 12 hours later do it all over again. These days, we leave it at least 6 months before we venture out again. Once the embarrassment of clearing the dance floor to do the ‘caterpillar’ has passed, we might consider going out for ‘civilised’ drinks.
Note to self: Screw civilised drinks! I’m never drinking alcohol again!
Let’s say a final cheers to drunken nights and mornings of sober regrets, as we shout out loud and proud…
“I’m NEVER drinking EVER AGAIN!”
…Famous last words.