Fuck Science, Make Money

No offense to my compadre Pistol Pete, but I have few hangover cures of my own. It would be my pleasure to share them with those congregated, whether you want me to or not.

1) Drink to the point of puking. If you imbibe so much booze that your body forcibly purges your stomach, you're home clear. There is no way that the alcohol can spend the night stewing in my stomach and liver, plotting a way to give me a wicked headache and sensitivity to light, if I fire off a pre-emptive strike and leave the contents of my breadbasket in the empty lot beside the Rock'n Horse. It can't hurt me if it's on my shoes.

2) Go home with some skank. If you wake up next to a girl of either less-than-stellar looks or of questionable reputation, you will not spend much time lying in that bed. On the contrary you will be up and going in a flash. Rolling over in the morning and seeing a dragon or town bicycle will jump start your system to the point that you will be miles down the road before the naseau powers its way back through the adrenaline. This one is only moderately effective, and happens to often for all the good it does.

3) Eat a bag of Cheetohs. Seriously, it works for me everytime.

4) Never stop drinking. This is one of the most fail-safe methods of hangover prevention. A hangover is, by definition, the regrettable side effects a person feels after a night of heavy drinking. The loophole here is clear as day. Never let there be an after. Stay drunk. If the bar closes at 1, stay until 1. If you go to bed, set an alarm for every 2 hours, wake up and have a few beers. Bloody Marys for breakfast, a surreptitious mixed drink in your water bottle. Cocktails, cocktails, cocktails. If the train never stops moving, there's no way it can crash.

I don't know how this stacks up to Pete's "science" but its worked for me and--let's face facts--I'm awesome.

And drunk. Mostly drunk.

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