You would vomit but you quite apparently took care of that last night, with none too good of an aim. You wake up on your bathroom floor, your arms death-locked around your porcelain lover. You definitely don’t remember who you were with, where you were, what you drank, and why there is a stranger still passed out in your bed. You’d cry like a baby but that would steal the last few drops of moisture left in your body. Your body has lost the ability to generate saliva, your tongue flops in your mouth like a nightmare-plagued wino thrashing around in his cardboard hooch. You still have toothpaste crust in the corners of your mouth from the futile attempt to remove the taste of decaying rat. You’re getting drunk from the vodka vapors seeping from every pore. You have a second heartbeat in your head which is actually annoying the employees sitting near you. Your long morning shower didn’t take, no amount of soap could penetrate the coat of sleaze. You don’t feel human, you don’t even feel like a mammal. You would murder your favorite bartender for a foot-long Bratwurst smothered with dijon and fried onions. You vaguely remember doing some really dumb and embarrassing things last night and you don’t care. Your eyes are red enough to give your features a lizardish cast and your hair makes your coworkers ask if you’re starting up a new wave band. The clothes you put on won’t win you any fashion awards and your face looks like a golf green mowed by a blind junkie (ladies, it looks like you applied your make-up with a shotgun). Your boss has already lambasted you for being late and reeking of booze. You can’t speak too quickly or you’ll punctuate your sentences with vomit. You’ve had four cups of coffee, a gallon of water, three iced teas and a diet coke and you haven’t peed once.Ĥth Circle: The Hunchback of Cheap Champagne Life would be much, much better if you were in your bed with a dozen donuts and a meatball sub watching Hogan’s Heroes reruns. Memories of bad behavior seep in and you cringe with shame. Anytime a girl walks by you gag because her perfume reminds you of the warm gin shots you did at your friend’s apartment after the bouncer ejected you at 1:45 a.m. You are definitely not the paradigm of a productive worker. You crave a fruity pancake from IHOP.ģrd Circle: The Headwound That Won’t Heal You feel kinda dumb and you notice the temporary lowering of your IQ has made you more sociable and less concerned with workaday worries. You are definitely dehydrated and after drinking two Gatorades you still feel that way. You look okay but you have the mental capacity of a staple gun. No real pain, but something is definitely amiss. You crave a steak sub and a side of gravy fries. During lunch you torture your less fortunate coworkers, bragging about how you can pound booze all night, drink warm gin out of a dirty ashtray for breakfast, and still show up fifteen minutes early for work. Your sleep was deep and all those carbo-loaded beers have gifted you with a week’s worth of misplaced energy.
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