that everyone else is too hungover to comment. Said the smug non-drinker. (Who remembers nonetheless those still-drunk motorbike rides into Ipswich on a Friday morning, after too much [just enough] Guinness at the folk club in Woodbridge the night before - 'no, nay, never' indeed! - and developing the hangover mid-morning at work. Not so much that I wanted to die, but why did it have to take so long?)

...seemed like a good idea last night, but that bottle of Zinfandel is making me sweat right now. Pretty productive day ahead. Not.

Embrace that and you defeat it

Band meeting last night turned into a bit of a do, and the Beer Monkey* visited in the wee hours.
I am a bit 'poorly'.

* As you sleep, the Beer Monkey beats you round the head, nicks £20 from your wallet and shits in your mouth.

on the e-mail copy of this that I got once upon a time, and kept for just such an occasion.

6 Star hangover * * * * * *
You arrive home and climb into bed. Sleep comes instantly, as you were fighting it all the way home in the taxi. You get about 2 hours sleep and the noises inside your head wake you up. You notice that your bed has been cleared for take off and is flying relentlessly around the room. No matter what you do you know you’re going to chuck. You stumble out of bed and now find that your room is in a yacht under full sail. After walking along the skirting boards on alternating walls knocking off all the pictures, you find the bog . If you are lucky you will remember to lift the lid before you spontaneously explode and wake the whole house up with your impersonation of walrus mating calls. You sit there on the floor in your undies, cuddling the only friend in the world you have left (the toilet), randomly continuing to make the walrus noises, spitting, and farting. Help usually comes at this stage, even if it is short lived. Tears stream down your face and your abdomen hurts. Help now turns into abuse and it usually goes back to bed leaving you there in the dark. With your stomach totally empty, your spontaneous eruptions have died back to 15-minute intervals, but your body won’t relent. You are convinced that you are starting to turn yourself inside out and swear that you saw your bum come out your mouth on the last occasion. You lie there cold and shivering, with eruptions now occurring at 1 hour intervals. It is now dawn and you pass your disgusted partner getting up for the day as you try to climb into bed. S/ He abuses you again for trying to get into bed with lumpy bits of dried vomit in your hair. You reluctantly accept their advice and have a shower in exchange for them driving you to the hospital. The whole day spent (as above Hangover 4 Star) you finally feel well enough to eat again on the following day, with the mention of alcohol making your stomach churn. This effect of sight or smell of alcohol making your stomach churn lasts for a week and publicly you vow never to do it again..... Until next time

I remember this one from a few years ago, courtesty of Larry Miller.

http://larrymillerhumor.com/media/

LEVEL 1:
It's 11:00 on a weeknight, you've had a few beers. You get up to leave because you have work the next day and one of your friends buys another round. One of your UNEMPLOYED friends. Here at level one you think to yourself, "Oh come on, this is silly, why as long as I get seven hours of sleep (snap fingers), I'm cool.".

LEVEL 2:
It's midnight. You've had a few more beers. You've just spent 20 minutes arguing against artificial turf. You get up to leave again, but at level two, a little devil appears on your shoulder. And now you're thinking, "Hey! I'm out with my friends! What am I working for anyway? These are the good times! Besides, as long as I get five hours sleep (snaps fingers) I'm cool.".

LEVEL 3:
One in the morning. You've abandoned beer for tequila. You've just spent 20 minutes arguing FOR artificial turf. And now you're thinking, "Our waitress is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen!" At level three, you love the world. On the way to the bathroom you buy a drink for the stranger at the end of the bar just because you like his face. You get drinking fantasies. (like,"Hey fellas, if we bought our own bar, we could live together forever. We could do it. Tommy, you could cook.") But at level three, that devil is a little bit bigger....and he's buying. And you're thinking "Oh, come on, come on now. As long as I get three hours sleep...and a complete change of blood (snaps fingers), I'm cool.".

LEVEL 4:
Two in the morning. And the devil is bartending. For last call, you ordered a bottle of rum and a Coke. You ARE artificial turf! This time on your way to the bathroom, you punch the stranger at the end of the bar. Just because you don't like his face! And now you're thinking, "Our busboy is the best looking man I've ever seen." You and your friends decide to leave, right after you get thrown out, and one of you knows an ...after hours bar. And here, at level four, you actually think to yourself, "Well....as long as I'm only going to get a few hours sleep anyway, I may as well.... STAY UP ALL NIGHT!!!! Yeah! That'd be good for me. I don't mind going to that board meeting looking like Keith Richards. Yeah, I'll turn that around, make it work for me. And besides, as long as I get 31 hours sleep tomorrow ...................cool.

LEVEL 5:
Five in the morning. after unsuccessfully trying to get your money back at the tattoo parlor ("But I don't even know anybody named Ruby!!!"), you and your friends wind up across the state line in a bar with guys who have been in prison as recently as...that morning. It's the kind of place where even the devil is going, "Uh, I gotta turn in. I gotta be in Hell- at nine. I've got that brunch with Hitler, I can't miss that." At this point, you're all drinking some kind of thick blue liquor, like something from a Klingon wedding. A waitress with fresh stitches comes over, and you think to yourself, "Someday I'm gonna marry that girl!!" One of your friends stands up and screams, "WE'RE DRIVIN' TO FLORIDA!!!!!"- and passes out. You crawl outside for air , and then you hit the worst part of level five- the sun. You weren't expecting that were you? You never do. You walk out of a bar in daylight, and you see people on their way to work, or jogging. And they look at you-and they know. And they say..."Who's Ruby?" Let's be honest, if you're 19 and you stay up all night, it's like a victory like you've beat the night, but if you're over 30, then that sun is like God's flashlight. We all say the same prayer then, "I swear, I will never do this again (how long?) as long as I live!" And some of us have that little addition, "and this time, I mean it!"

Oh yeah and this morning is a stage one

drink ever ! ;) it sounds like the mythical home of the unicorns. Lemmy has never knowingly ordered a Zinfandel!

This section under the two star hangover confused me:

"you are costing your employer valuable money because all you really can handle is aimlessley surfing the net and writing junk e-mails".

What's that got to do with being hungover...?

The country singer/guitar player does a song called "Hair Of The Dog" in which the hook is "I swear I'll never drink again, again".