Though I certainly did not feel that way a few hours ago. I have just recovered from quite possibly the worst hangover of my life. Most of my insides are now outsides. This particular hangover is only to be superseded by the legendary two-day hangover which almost took my life a few years ago. I think I have one brain cell left, but it was wearing glasses, and I’ve now broken them.
If there is one thing that I have learned in my adult life, which obviously does not include the lesson about not taking shots all night, it’s that Chinese food is the panacea. If you aren’t Paul and you’re like the rest of us, missing the mutated gene that prevents you from getting hangovers, the necessary medicine is a large fried rice eaten slowly throughout the day. That and a cocktail of NSAIDs, anti-emetics and B vitamins – all of which the Good Doctor made me take, and the consumption of which almost sent me into a terrible replay of the night before.
In any case, I have survived, but still can’t decide which is worse – my hangover or my shame. Since I’m now on the up-and-up, let’s go with shame, shall we? And let’s all give a big round of applause to the man, the miracle-worker, the Good Doctor, who for some unbeknownst reason is still talking to me today like I’m not a complete and utter asshole. I am, but for some reason he doesn’t see it. Maybe his brain cells have lost their glasses, too…
Welp, see you next week, when I’ve hopefully learned a lesson about anything. Probably not, though. This is Kitty, signing out.