H is for Hangover

Fortunately without the Headache! I drink a lot for someone that is no longer living in a tiny cramped apartment on a college campus. It’s probably a problem and I swear I’m going to do something about it. But in the mean time, occasionally I have to deal with the dreaded hangover.

Now, I usually know my limit. When the room starts spinning, I’ve passed that point. When my best friend and I are falling on top of each other while dancing out at the gay bar. I’ve passed that point.

I can usually justify a bottle of wine. If you’ve every drank a bottle of wine, it really doesn’t seem like that much. It’s maybe the liquid equivalent of 3 bottles of beer. However the alcohol content is significantly higher, and wine is a sneaky little bastard that likes to creep up on you and hit you all at once.

I’ll be sipping my Sauvignon Blanc when all of a sudden I realize I’m on my 4^th glass and the world is so much more fun! The only thing that usually stops me from drinking more is my obsession with counting calories. But when you put me with my best friend, all my good decision capabilities get drowned out in the next bottle that we open.

H is also for Honest, because I’ve got to be… I don’t regret it for an instant. I rarely, rarely, rarely get to see her because we live 500 miles apart, so when I do, I have no inclination to Hold myself back. We feed of and build on each others energy and it’s one Hell of a Happy time.

However. The next morning is a little rough. I really do Hate Hangovers. I can’t exercise. I don’t want to get out of bed. But at least I’m Happy in the knowledge that the night before I had a truly amazing and memorable night out.