We all have our ways of coping with the day after a big night. I’m not here to speak to the merits of any concoction someone chooses to ingest, but I am here to tell you what it says about you. I’m not judging, though. I’ve been through all these, as I’m sure you have. Let’s have some fun, guys.
Man, you went hard AF last night. You had a nice tall cab with dinner that you parlayed into a few Shiners while watching a MNF game with fantasy implications. Your group text was on fire last night. Nobody was safe — dudes were getting roasted left and right, and you went to bed at least an hour later than normal. In the midst of this shit show, you forgot to initiate the preemptive against dehydration known to us all as a tall glass of water. Ugh, 6 o’clock came a little early, but you’ll live.
You don’t have anything left in your fucktank. You were naive enough to think that a weeknight dinner with friends that didn’t involve binge drinking was a real thing that could happen in your life. LOL @ u. Now look at you: eyes look like you went three rounds with GGG, the corners of your mouth are dry and possibly scabbing over, and you strained both calf muscles when you stretched this morning.
How do you respond? Well, you always hear people talk about Pedialyte being a miracle worker for those situated similarly, but the last time you had a bottle within reach was when your mom picked some up when you were home sick with the butt flu. You’re already running late, but you’re going to have to swing by the store on your way in if you want to feel anywhere close to normal.
You’re an idiot, but you can make it through this.
All Fried, Everything
You had yourself one helluva Saturday night didn’t you? Thank god you don’t have anything to do today, other than roll around in your own filth while wearing your old Patagonia snap pullover, because interacting with other humans is not something you can handle.
You have a full body hangover because you made the mistake of taking shots after the age of 26. Big mistake. Subtract those 2 Vegas bombs, and you’d probably be fine after a few Advil and a G2. Not the case, though. You took the plunge because you don’t know when to retire, and now you’re having Popeye’s delivered at 11 a.m. even though you’ll probably dry heave when you force down the red beans and rice.
Sorry, but your day is over.
You either didn’t drink that much the night before, or you’re a complete psycho. Anyone that maxes out and tries to cope with a latte is just begging for the shakes. I know under certain circumstances this may be necessary, like you’re rolling into work looking like ass and you need to give off the “alert vibe,” but do so sparingly. There’s a fine line between vibrant and panicky, and tweaking out is a bad look.
Also, and most importantly, coffee + puffy eyes = you looking guilty. If you have to work the next day, people will begin to ask questions, and you clearly don’t want questions.
My kind of drinker. You either a) Went home early the night before and have heavy FOMO, thus causing your attempt to get the party going again, or b) Feel like such miserable trash that you have no other choice but to keep the reckless ball of shit you call your life rolling.
Maybe there’s some room in between, but not likely. Before you even roll your sorry ass out of bed (off of the couch where you lie fully clothed), you’ll be on the phone looking for someone that will stoop down to your level of debauchery.
You’re operating on borrowed time, my friend. Godspeed.
Oh, you’re going to sweat it out? Is that how that works? I’m asking because I seriously don’t know the answer. You went hard last night, and even though you’re getting text after text asking you to brunch, you’re above that. You know if you succumb to the brunch temptation, your life will spiral out of control and you’ll be left reeling for days.
Instead, you’re going 15 minutes of cardio followed by a shoulders and arms routine, because legs, chest or back workout that would only cause you to regress. This all seems reasonable, but after you respond to those brunch texts with, “going to gym,” everyone will hate you.
That sweet release of serotonin will only last so long. Enjoy it while you can..
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