TueDuesday: Hangover Helper, in Honor of Drink-o de Mayo

Welcome back to TueDuesday: A Weekly Series on Self Improvement (and Self Preservation), where I’ll share some of the hard-earned tips and tricks that have made their way up my sleeve after well over a decade of living alone in the city. 

TueDuesday goes out to all of you who have ever bravely moved into your very own apartment, only to encounter a cockroach the size of a well-fed hamster.  Barefoot.  In the middle of the night.  To all the ambitious drinkers who ever wanted to score the bartender’s number (and to the many of us who have failed, only to bravely try again).  To the pasta fiends.  To the Facebook lurkers.  To the happy, the hopeful, and the possibly hung-over guys and gals like me, navigating the city streets – or the country roads – without benefit of a map or a significant other.  Whether you’re chronically single, newly separated or happily coupled up and just looking for a way to make the occasional table for one a little more fun, there’s something here for you.

Like what you see?  Pass it along!  Strongly disagree?  Say so in the comments!  (Respectfully, please; after growing up with the last name Blewett, my ego can only take so much.)  Have an idea for a future TueDuesday post?  Send it over!  And keep in touch, via Twitter @LeahKBlewett and Instagram @leahkblewett.

Happy TueDuesday!

TueDuesday, May 5, 2015

Hangover Helper, in Honor of Drink-o de Mayo

Happy TueDuesday!  I missed you last week, but I hope my feminist ranting re: Meghan Trainor and Bud Light were a sufficient Leah Fix.  If you missed them, click the links above or head over to Skirt Collective and dose yourself with a little self-righteous indignation.  It’s the breakfast of champions.  And speaking of Bud Light (see what I did there??), this week’s Cinco de Mayo TueDuesday is all about something else that turns my stomach, in the most literal way: let’s learn how to beat a hangover!

Perhaps you over-did it at Sunday’s season-opening softball game in Central Park.  Maybe it was your buddy’s birthday and howling along to Toto’s “Africa” at the bar at 3:30 a.m. sounded like a good way to celebrate.  Or could it be that Friday’s happy hour with friends turned into Saturday’s wee hours heart-to-heart?  No matter the cause, we’ve all been there: you drank too much, went to bed too late, didn’t hydrate, or all of the above…

First things first.  If you’re drunk enough to be hungover, chances are you’re going to sleep like a rock for the first few hours, blissfully drooling away, and then wake up with a start about five hours before you’d actually like to get out of bed.  It feels like hell (probably because it’s the first thing you’ve actually felt in hours), but: this is a good thing. 

Get out of bed.  Just do it.  It’s only temporary, I promise.  Good!  Now, make your way to wherever you keep your ibuprofen, aspirin, or other painkiller of choice.  (No judgement.)  If you’re waking up in a strange place, this can be more of a challenge (again, no judgement!) but the bathroom is probably a good place to start.  In a hotel?  Call room service.  Still at the bar?  Send a coherent friend to sweet-talk the bartender into letting you raid the first-aid kit.  Whatever you do, get your hands on a couple of pills and, at minimum, a pint of cold water.  Consume them with all available speed.  Now, as promised, you can return to bed.  This is what’s known as a pre-emptive strike.

You’re going to wake up again.  Maybe it’s when your alarm goes off; maybe it’s when you startle yourself with a juicy ol’ snore; maybe it’s when the setting sun makes it way beneath your blinds and reminds you that you’ve let the entire day pass you by.  Whenever it is, you’ll know it’s time to get up.  You’ll probably feel alternately famished and nauseous, and it’s likely that your tongue will taste like a tampon soaked in muddy puddle water and left to dry in the August sun.

You’ve never looked lovelier!

If you don’t have to leave your house, skip these next few steps, but if you need to make yourself presentable to other humans (even just the clerk at Duane Reade, the counter guy at your local slice joint, or – hell – the deliveryman dropping off your breakfast sandwich), you’ll need to do something about that smell.

Oh, come on, you know that smell.  You’ve noticed it wafting off both your college-aged niece and your well-pickled uncle during the holidays.  The smell that says, “I overdid it last night, and possibly this morning, and the alcohol is now beating a hasty exit and evaporating from my very pores.”  Eau de Two Dollar Liquor Cabinet.  It’s coming off your skin, and probably out of your hair.  Only time will truly make that smell go away, so for now, you have two options: rinse off in the shower (which can be daunting in your fragile state) or camouflage it with whatever’s on hand: body splash, mouthwash, chewing gum.  In a real pinch, even a wedge of lemon or orange will do the trick: discard the fruit, bend the peel backwards towards itself, and swipe the oils that emerge from the skin behind your ears and through your hair.

There, now.  That’s a bit better.

The next step is controversial: you’ve got to eat, but opinions diverge wildly about what makes the best hangover food.  I’m partial to white fluffy carbs and dairy fat, but then, I’m always partial to white fluffy carbs and dairy fat.  This can be anything from a bagel with a tennis ball-sized hunk of cream cheese in the middle to a bowl of elbow noodles with butter and grated parmesan to a diner grilled cheese sandwich (no artisanal bird seed bread or luxe imported cheese here: we’re talking Wonderbread and Kraft singles, with bonus points for margarine instead of butter on the grill).  I have friends who swear by Gatorade, but there’s something about the lingering saccharine-citrus aftertaste that reminds me of Robitussin, so I steer clear.  

Remember that pint-plus of water you drank before?  Do that again.  Twice.  Has it been at least four hours since you woke up and dosed yourself with painkillers?  Do that again, too.

Eventually, you’re going to stop feeling like you swallowed a hyperactive guinea pig and the fiberglass installation between your brain and your eyes will dissipate and you’ll start to feel almost like yourself again.  This is the perfect time to have another drink.  Mimosas and Bloody Marys are traditional hangover fare, but the crusty old Italian nonna that lives inside me prefers inexpensive white wine on ice, ideally out of a box, possibly with canned peaches in the glass. 

Whatever your morning-after beverage of choice, once you’ve had a meal, it’s time to pour one down the hatch.  This not only takes the edge off your hangover, it reminds your uppity liver just who the heck is in charge around here.  By the time you finish your cocktail, you’ll be ready for your day – even if “your day” consists of going right back to bed and trying again tomorrow.

Note: The author is not a doctor, or even an especially proficient provider of first aid.  Readers assume full risk for their actions, including taking her advice or giving themselves hangovers in the first place.  Now get off my lawn, ya crazy kids with yer music.