Thursday, 12 June 2008

A Hangover as Massive as My Ex-Girlfriend’s Arse


Awake with a thump. Heart beating like a fucked clock, and nerves shrieking like a xylophone being scraped with a fork. Try to focus but thoughts misfire, plonk and plink like knives and forks being flushed down the toilet. Stumble to bathroom, slop water down mouth, and lurchingly glimpse self in mirror. Not good. Head has apparently been dried out and shrunken while sleeping.

Denial
No no no. Someone or something is hammering my mind on an anvil with a bowling ball. Mouth filthy and dry as the floor of a parrot cage.

Anger
What. The. Fuck! Why do I do this to myself? Why do these muscles hurt? Did I make out with anyone? Whose email addresses are these in my pocket? Why is there a traffic cone in my bed?

Bargaining
Please make this stop. I’ll rewind rental video tapes. I’ll wash my car. I’ll recycle.

Depression
Loser syndrome. A black mood arrives like a Leonard Cohen box set. I hate this house, this job, this relationship, this life. I HATE everything. Except Myprodol. Aaah…

Acceptance
The painkillers are kicking in. All is better now. Screw the bargaining, I’m not going to drink until I… do.

6 comments:

Jake said...

tee hee. had one last week that turned on me bad. full scale panic attack. circuits round the park trying not to die. Going to see laughing len soon at glasto.

Wonderfully Confused said...

Frikken best description of a hangover. Ever.

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