Playing Off the Hangover:
How Long Can You Pretend You're Not Dying?
by LaToya Prater

If you are reading this and have never had an ass-whooping, nauseating, dizzying hangover that has lasted until at least 5 p.m., stop reading this instant and go drink a giant tumbler of Old Crow.

For everyone else, let's face it. We've all gotten smashed on occasions when we didn't mean to get…quite so smashed, and then had to deal with a hangover when we were supposed to be dealing with something else, like a date or obligation to help a friend. Work is irrelevant, since most of us would rather pass the day in a stupor anyway.

The worst situation occurs when your drinking partner outweighs you by 150 lbs. and/or isn't prone to hangovers, or worse, he or she miserably failed to drink as much as you did because he or she is afflicted with "responsibility," "discretion," or "the ability to pace oneself."*

*Editor's Note: It is highly recommended that if you find yourself with a person of this character, you end the relationship immediately.

Let's say you went on a date that turned out exceptionally well (because you both got trashed enough to sleep together). The next day, your new-found lover bounds out of bed at 8 a.m., just about the time you're coming to and realizing the pink panties or tighty whities you're squeezed into ain't yours.

First comes the pounding headache, then the urge to puke, then the dizziness and the calliope carnival music playing mysteriously in your head, accompanied by the sudden surety that you have permanent tinnitus due to the ludicrously loud ringing in your ears.

Yeah. You're going to die for sure. You don't move. 12 more hours of sleep will clear it right up.

"It's a beautiful day," your "date" exclaims. "Let's go for a bike ride, and then you can help me help my friend move out of his five-bedroom house. Remember? Last night you said you really wanted to help."

You feel chagrined at your situation, but don't want to look the wuss. How do you play it off and get out of any kind of physical exertion whatsoever?

1. Get high and get the other person high as fast as possible.
This can be done with weed, or more alcohol or various household chemicals. Don't try banana peels, they don't work, and neither do the pages out of a coloring book, even if they have been colored. Especially if your partner isn't a stoner, a good five to 10 bong hits will slow ol' Chipper Zippy right the fuck down. Follow this up immediately with hours of mind-numbing but addictive video games, such as Super Bust A Move or Tetris. Get plenty of snacks or order out from places you know put plenty of MSG in the food. Food coma for sure.

2. More alcohol.
It's all over for you anyway, might as well keep drinking. Say something like "there's nothing I like more than  more booze after a lot of booze." Be sure to mix a "Roofie Colada" or two for your partner, and wait until they pass out. Then you're free, and you come off looking like a drinking juggernaut. Later you can mock them by saying "Man, you don't remember? I was all dressed and ready to hit the bike path, but you passed out! Lightweight!"

3. Sex.
Pull your partner back to bed and commence copulation immediately. It will actually alleviate your headache for a short while, and right when it's over, pretend to severely sprain your back. Lay inert for the rest of the day while your partner either dotes on you or goes away, leaving you to nap in paralysis for the rest of the day. (Not recommended if you aren't on a date, but have crashed at your best girlfriend or buddy's house - they might not understand.)

4. Shrunken head rain dance.
You will need a Brazilian shrunken head (Brazilian is preferred - NEVER use Haitian), but most people carry them around nowadays for occasions such as this. Hold it up and chant "Omanagiddygiddyomanasay" 12 times, then lie prone on you face (this should be easy in your current condition) without moving for one minute. This will cause nearly instant bad weather, protecting you from the "beautiful day" bullshit. For severe storms, add one ounce of human blood to three ounces of mineral oil and toss it at a law enforcement officer.

5. Tell the truth.
This is no fun and not recommended at all. You might as well just have a friend make a "fake" phone call to you so you can pretend your grandmother died suddenly (for the fifth time this year). Lame.

- www.KCDrinker.com - 2004 ©

LaToya "GfV" Prater  is a free-lance drinker and writer. A native of New Jersey, she got hammered in Hoboken a few years back and woke up in Kansas City tied to the passenger seat of a '77 El Dorado with Ed Asner wearing nothing but the hand puppet Lambchop. Now a resident of KC, Mo., Prater indulges her overwhelming addiction to editing other people’s copy to earn a paycheck and spends the rest of her time focusing on her three dearest passions: Alcohol, writing fiction, and acting (Japanese balloon fetish porn).