Did you get your drink on? if so, please rate your hangover according to the following scale:
* 1-star hangover
No pain. No real feeling of illness. You sleep in your own bed and when you wake up, there are no traffic cones in there with you.
You are still able to function relatively well on the energy stored up from all those vodka and Red Bulls. However, you can drink 10 bottles of water and still feel as parched as the Sahara.
Even vegetarians crave a cheeseburger and a basket of fries.
** 2-star hangover
No pain, but something is definitely amiss. You may look okay but you have the attention span and mental capacity of a stapler.
The coffee you chug to try and remain focused is only exacerbating your rumbling gut, which is craving a full English breakfast.
Although you have a nice demeanor at the office, you are costing your employer valuable money because all you really can handle is some light filing, followed by aimlessly surfing the Net and writing junk e-mail.
*** 3-star hangover
Slight headache. Stomach feels like crap. You are definitely a space cadet and not so productive.
Anytime someone walks by your desk you gag because the perfume/aftershave reminds you of the random shots you did with your alcoholic friends after the bouncer kicked you out at 1:45 a.m.
Life would be better right now if you were in your bed with a dozen doughnuts and a two-liter bottle of Coke, watching daytime TV.
You've had four cups of coffee, a gallon of water, two burritos, and a two-liter bottle of Diet Coke, yet you haven't peed once.
**** 4-star hangover
You have lost the will to live. Your head is throbbing and you can't speak too quickly or else you might spew.
Your boss has already lambasted you for being late and has given you a lecture for reeking of booze.
You wore nice clothes, but you smell of socks and can't hide the fact that you missed an oh-so crucial spot shaving.
Your teeth have their own individual sweaters. Your eyes look like one big vein and your hairstyle makes you look like a reject from a second-grade class, circa 1976.
You would give a week's pay for one of the following: home time, a doughnut and somewhere to be alone, or a time machine so that you can go back to last night and change the fact that you went out.
You scare small children in the street just by walking past them.
***** 5-star hangover
You have a second heartbeat in your head, which is actually annoying the employee sitting next to you.
Vodka vapor is seeping out of every pore and making you dizzy.
You still have toothpaste crust in the corners of your mouth from brushing your teeth.
Your body has lost the ability to generate saliva, so your tongue is suffocating you.
You'd cry but that would take the last drop of moisture left in your body.
Death seems pretty good right now. Your boss doesn't even get mad at you and your co-workers think that your dog just died because you look so pathetic.
You should have called in sick because, let's face it, all you can manage to do is breathe... very gently.
****** 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 two hours of sleep until the noises inside your head wake you up.
You notice that your bed has been cleared for takeoff and is flying relentlessly around the room.
No matter what you do now, you're going to vomit.
You stumble out of bed and now find that your room is in a yacht, fully sailing. After walking along the skirting boards on alternating walls, knocking off all the pictures, you find the toilet.
If you are lucky, you 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.
With your stomach totally empty, your spontaneous eruptions have died down 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 tonsils shoot out of your mouth on the last occasion.
It is now dawn and you pass by your disgusted partner getting up for the day, as you try to climb into bed. She abuses you again for trying to get into bed with lumpy bits of dried vomit in your hair.
You reluctantly accept her advice and take a shower. Work is simply not an option.
The whole day is spent trying to avoid anything that might make you sick again, like moving.
You vow never to touch a drop of alcohol again, and who knows, for the next two or three hours you might even succeed.
Then he went out to join his friends at the Railway, who called because they had already bought him two pitchers of beer but were forced to drink them because he wasn't there yet. I don't know when he got in, but there are no traffic cones. He's 23 and still growing.
Rosie's kind of flaming out, isn't she? It's like she decided to stop being Ms. Nice guy/pushover, but was replacedby Ms. Loudmouth Harpie. Isn't there any place in between?
Please excuse my tyoing errors. Ijust had my eyes dialted. I'm trying out those new 30 day wear contacts. We'll see. Actually I can't see a damn thing.
Rosie bugs me 'cuz she seemed sooooo real on her Show and I liked her a lot...but, I think she was a fake. Now, she is real...and, it's kinda icky.
Regardless, of her "ickiness" I do think she has done a lot of good for the under-privileged and that's cool. Gotta take the good with the not-so-good.
Happy Birthday to Joe Jayjack From coyoteland to Topeka and back... in his Subaru he drives to work where he thrives, He writes and he designs for the Topeka Times (ha ha)
It sounds like horrible pain...but I am always questioning...was the health care professional a man, or a woman...who had given birth,without pain meds?
I guess we can compromise and say "Sorry Bro, I feel your pain!"
NO! Well, maybe...how do you know? Did she say, "Hi, let me look at your lower intestines, oh, by the way, I'm a lesbian". Did she give birth...just b'cuz she's a lesbian doesn't make her tuff...I could take her, I think.
Actually there was no, "Lesbian Doctor." It just sounded good. Ha! :-<>
Seriously, someone (can't remember who) said it was worse than child birth...and, I believe it! Tom was miserable. He was in horrific pain for sooooooooooo long until they finally cut him open to figure it out. Poor guy. :-(
Yeah Mary! I know you could take that lesbo know-it-all too! How would you do it? Would you start out with the mystical oriental fighting, throw the pelican and the weasel at her and then finish up with the mexican death kick? Or would you lure her into a vulnerable position and then throw the arm-bar and reverse fly at her? Oh Yeah! Get that full nelson on her and she'll feel some REAL pain, right?! GO MARY!! LA MAGNIFICA!!!
Thanks Joe3! I wouldn't make it painfull cause she might like it...I would lure her with drug infused cotton candyand then tie her up with pink handcuffs and then throw the pelican and weasel out the window, make her listen to their death fall and then I would make her watch me do the Mexican Death Dance!
25 comments:
Happy Birthday Joe! How old are you? 23? 24?
P
I would sing happy birthday, but i can't afford the royalties. Happy Birthday Joe.
Happy Birthday, Joe Jayjack! Hope your day was fun!!!
Did you get your drink on? if so, please rate your hangover according to the following scale:
* 1-star hangover
No pain. No real feeling of illness. You sleep in your own bed and when you wake up, there are no traffic cones in there with you.
You are still able to function relatively well on the energy stored up from all those vodka and Red Bulls. However, you can drink 10 bottles of water and still feel as parched as the Sahara.
Even vegetarians crave a cheeseburger and a basket of fries.
** 2-star hangover
No pain, but something is definitely amiss. You may look okay but you have the attention span and mental capacity of a stapler.
The coffee you chug to try and remain focused is only exacerbating your rumbling gut, which is craving a full English breakfast.
Although you have a nice demeanor at the office, you are costing your employer valuable money because all you really can handle is some light filing, followed by aimlessly surfing the Net and writing junk e-mail.
*** 3-star hangover
Slight headache. Stomach feels like crap. You are definitely a space cadet and not so productive.
Anytime someone walks by your desk you gag because the perfume/aftershave reminds you of the random shots you did with your alcoholic friends after the bouncer kicked you out at 1:45 a.m.
Life would be better right now if you were in your bed with a dozen doughnuts and a two-liter bottle of Coke, watching daytime TV.
You've had four cups of coffee, a gallon of water, two burritos, and a two-liter bottle of Diet Coke, yet you haven't peed once.
**** 4-star hangover
You have lost the will to live. Your head is throbbing and you can't speak too quickly or else you might spew.
Your boss has already lambasted you for being late and has given you a lecture for reeking of booze.
You wore nice clothes, but you smell of socks and can't hide the fact that you missed an oh-so crucial spot shaving.
Your teeth have their own individual sweaters. Your eyes look like one big vein and your hairstyle makes you look like a reject from a second-grade class, circa 1976.
You would give a week's pay for one of the following: home time, a doughnut and somewhere to be alone, or a time machine so that you can go back to last night and change the fact that you went out.
You scare small children in the street just by walking past them.
***** 5-star hangover
You have a second heartbeat in your head, which is actually annoying the employee sitting next to you.
Vodka vapor is seeping out of every pore and making you dizzy.
You still have toothpaste crust in the corners of your mouth from brushing your teeth.
Your body has lost the ability to generate saliva, so your tongue is suffocating you.
You'd cry but that would take the last drop of moisture left in your body.
Death seems pretty good right now. Your boss doesn't even get mad at you and your co-workers think that your dog just died because you look so pathetic.
You should have called in sick because, let's face it, all you can manage to do is breathe... very gently.
****** 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 two hours of sleep until the noises inside your head wake you up.
You notice that your bed has been cleared for takeoff and is flying relentlessly around the room.
No matter what you do now, you're going to vomit.
You stumble out of bed and now find that your room is in a yacht, fully sailing. After walking along the skirting boards on alternating walls, knocking off all the pictures, you find the toilet.
If you are lucky, you 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.
With your stomach totally empty, your spontaneous eruptions have died down 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 tonsils shoot out of your mouth on the last occasion.
It is now dawn and you pass by your disgusted partner getting up for the day, as you try to climb into bed. She abuses you again for trying to get into bed with lumpy bits of dried vomit in your hair.
You reluctantly accept her advice and take a shower. Work is simply not an option.
The whole day is spent trying to avoid anything that might make you sick again, like moving.
You vow never to touch a drop of alcohol again, and who knows, for the next two or three hours you might even succeed.
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday dear Jo-o-o-oe
Happy Birthday to you!
We had a birthday dinner with the Richardsons last night with lasagna, cupcakes baked by Martha, and ice cream. Joe got a scary Pez dispenser.
Then he went out to join his friends at the Railway, who called because they had already bought him two pitchers of beer but were forced to drink them because he wasn't there yet. I don't know when he got in, but there are no traffic cones. He's 23 and still growing.
Rosie's kind of flaming out, isn't she? It's like she decided to stop being Ms. Nice guy/pushover, but was replacedby Ms. Loudmouth Harpie. Isn't there any place in between?
Happy birthday Joe! You oughta feel guilty about what you put your parents through.
Happy Birthday Joe. October birthdays are the best! It's those cold Januarys.
Monica
Please excuse my tyoing errors. Ijust had my eyes dialted. I'm trying out those new 30 day wear contacts. We'll see. Actually I can't see a damn thing.
Monica
Rosie bugs me 'cuz she seemed sooooo real on her Show and I liked her a lot...but, I think she was a fake. Now, she is real...and, it's kinda icky.
Regardless, of her "ickiness" I do think she has done a lot of good for the under-privileged and that's cool. Gotta take the good with the not-so-good.
Well, you're probably right, although I wouldn't quote Howard Stern as an authority on anything beyond 13-year-old boys locker-room humor.
What he needs is a mammogram.
Ed, I just noticed that you posted this at 3:25 AM. Go to bed!
He's never had my lasagna!
Happy Birthday to Joe Jayjack
From coyoteland to Topeka and back...
in his Subaru he drives
to work where he thrives,
He writes and he designs
for the Topeka Times (ha ha)
Oh, and sorry, Joe! Happy Birthday! HOpe you had fun.
Helen (my Mom) says that Howard Stern is evil and a good Christian should never, "tune in."
We had it on, momentarily, once and she left the room. Too embarassed to watch it in front of God. Can't blame her!
It sounds like horrible pain...but I am always questioning...was the health care professional a man, or a woman...who had given birth,without pain meds?
I guess we can compromise and say "Sorry Bro, I feel your pain!"
Compassion runs in the family.
The person who told me that Tom's pain was worse than child birth...was a woman. She was a lesbian...does that count?
NO! Well, maybe...how do you know? Did she say, "Hi, let me look at your lower intestines, oh, by the way, I'm a lesbian". Did she give birth...just b'cuz she's a lesbian doesn't make her tuff...I could take her, I think.
Actually there was no, "Lesbian Doctor." It just sounded good. Ha! :-<>
Seriously, someone (can't remember who) said it was worse than child birth...and, I believe it! Tom was miserable. He was in horrific pain for sooooooooooo long until they finally cut him open to figure it out. Poor guy. :-(
Yeah Mary! I know you could take that lesbo know-it-all too! How would you do it? Would you start out with the mystical oriental fighting, throw the pelican and the weasel at her and then finish up with the mexican death kick? Or would you lure her into a vulnerable position and then throw the arm-bar and reverse fly at her? Oh Yeah! Get that full nelson on her and she'll feel some REAL pain, right?! GO MARY!! LA MAGNIFICA!!!
Thanks Joe3!
I wouldn't make it painfull cause she might like it...I would lure her with drug infused cotton candyand then tie her up with pink handcuffs and then throw the pelican and weasel out the window, make her listen to their death fall and then I would make her watch me do the Mexican Death Dance!
Mine too!
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