Consciousness: check. Pounding headache: check. Stomach cramps: check. Dry mouth: check. Will to do nothing: check.
All right, I have a hangover. Currently, I’m doing my normal hangover routine, lying in bed and yelling obscenities until my roommates wake up. When I opened my eyes this morning, I found myself in my bed. Left look, right look: all right, no ed-out drunk people are in bed with me. So I leave my room and go for the powdered Gatorade in the kitchen. But alas, there’s none left.
What next?
Well, if any of you are as lazy as I am when hung over, Stooley’s is your answer. I drag myself back to my room to find my pants and jet out the door to Stooley’s. When I sit down in a booth, a waitress asks what I would like to drink. I stare at her blankly for five seconds. She can tell I’m hung over.
“Just water then?” she asks. “Wait a second,” I reply.
I search the menu and the words “hangover helpers” stand out. I ask for one: “lava juice”—two raw eggs, Clamato juice, and Tabasco. The result, however, is not very pleasant.
What was I thinking? Raw eggs? I feel like I’m going to vomit from the amount of beer I drank the previous night. So I pipe up and say, “can you give me a splash of beer in that juice? I’m gonna need it.” She comes back and I see those two raw eggs floating in that Clamato juice like two jelly fish in an ocean of liquid tomatoes. Just looking at it makes me want to vomit. As my headache’s pulsating beat begins to speed up I take that tall glass and chug it down.
Texture: interesting. Taste: Clamato and beer. Hangover: still present. Dammit! It didn’t work. I wave over the waitress. “Give me rye toast and that Spanish omelette, do you have that?” She nods. “Perfect, oh and 3 glasses of water and some OJ on the side too, please.” I chug back the first two glasses, and sip on the third, waiting. Fifteen minutes later, the waitress magically appears with my omelette and I quickly chow down on my omelet. As soon as those sweet, sweet eggs hit my stomach, the cramps instantly went away. As I sipped on the orange juice, my hydration came back and that disgusting dry mouth was gone. I almost feel back in order except one thing: that headache. As I am finishing my last piece of rye toast, however, the pulsing headache slows down to non-existence.
Yes, I win! In the matter of 45 minutes I went from ranging hangover to calm. I just divided and conquered the hangover—well, thanks to Stooley’s.
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