Give Me Booze Or Give me Death! Four Stages of Hangovers

19 Feb


I started this blog with the idea of solely writing humorous stories about running a pet-sitting business while trying to make the time to write and have found, alas, that I want to write about other things. So, off-topic again, here we go! But, actually, it does relate, because technically it is about the business, just not about writing. Hell, no one cares anyway…
In 2009 my self-owned, self-run business became a seven-day a week job. Gone were the lazy, blissful, carefree days of old when I had days off. Now I was expected to be someplace (several someplaces) every day. The main reason I allowed the business to function in this manner was because I wanted to keep everyone happy by making myself readily available. Also, the business constantly changed; the majority of my clients, I discovered with no small amount of frustration, were of a selfish nature. Once they no longer needed me I was discarded like a gum wrapper. To keep things floating I had to bob, weave, parry and spin, and if it meant taking on clients every day, then by God I’d do it.
Unfortunately, a hold over from my gigging musician days was my love of the occasional ‘drunkening’, a term I’ve stolen from Homer Simpson. I no longer imbibed like a sailor on shore leave on a daily basis (nor did I have the time) but every now and then (about twice a month) I liked to toss back a few and play my guitar. The problem, as it were, was that I now had to get up every day, so I knew there were going to be a couple days a month that were going to be, how you say? Less than stellar.
So I’ve come up with the three stages of hangovers (actually there are four, but that one is for hardcore partiers only) that I’d like to share, and just how miserable they are to get through.
Stage One: This is purely a beginners level. This is the hangover a daily drinker feels on a good day, after a ‘maintenance dosage’. This was mostly how I felt for about ten years. In other words, no problem.
Stage Two: Taking the rabbit further down the hole, this one has you feeling a touch more blurry and sleepy, but after a cup of coffee or two you can still greet the day with some modicum of aplomb, as long as there is no heavy lifting required.
Stage Three: Okay, the gloves are off. This one sucks. Instead of wine or beer you were drinking Jack straight out of the bottle; these types of binges usually include something else (hopefully just weed) and scattered memories the next day suggest you may have done something foolish (or downright idiotic). The day is going to be long and torturous. The toilet bowl is your friend on both ends and coffee (nor anything else) will stay down. Can’t wait ‘til this day is over.
Defcon Four: All right, for those of you who have never been to this stage, consider yourself lucky. This is what nightmares are made of. I’d hate to divulge anything in this blog that may make me lose credibility with any of the more sensitive readers (yeah, right!) but I’ve been known to take a toot of blow from time to time. This is Defcon Four land. This is the hangover with NO sleep, the one that makes you believe in God or possibly the acceptance of life after death (simply because you want to die). A hangover so bad in which your phone is in hand, wanting desperately to call in sick because you don’t even feel safe getting behind the wheel of your car but NO! The show must go on. The first thing you think about upon getting out of bed is taking a nap (yes, I said no sleep but that doesn’t mean an attempt wasn’t made to get some). You can hardly even shave because your hands are shaking (right now you are asking yourself: do I really want this man to walk my dog?) and only after the sunlight hits your dilated pupils can you finally utter one long, painful, anguished scream…
It has been a long time since Defon Four for me (actually, I think it was 2010; the guy I bought cocaine from moved out of town and I didn’t have time to find a new dealer), and I have to admit I’m glad he left; had he not I’d probably still have his number on speed-dial.
Yes, this business has commanded I jump through quite a few hoops, has made me be more responsible when all I desire is the opposite, but that’s a good thing. I can save the crazy shenanigans for when my books finally start selling; I’ll then become a crazier public persona than Charlie Sheen. I can’t wait!


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