The Three-Day Hangover

I couldn't sleep last night. Maybe it was the nightmares of zombies after watching the season finale of The Walking Dead; maybe it was the hangover I still had from this weekend. I will tell you that one thing I've learned about being in your late twenties is that I can't put 'em back like I used to. In college, we would go out Wednesday night, Thursday night for Burgerama, Friday night to a frat party, and get up at 6am on Saturday to tailgate for the football game. (You couldn't get us up at that hour for an 8am class, but a keg helps for motivation to wake that early.)

I remember waking on Sundays in college, sitting around the apartment I shared with my best girlfriends and reminiscing about the weekend's events. We would get some Pokey Stix from the nearby pizza place (Pokey Stix are basically a giant portion of cheesy bread that is the ultimate cure for a hangover, if you were wondering.) I would down a glass of water, finish my homework, and be ready to roll.

Nowadays, the situation is much different. And you know, I remember my cousin warning me about this and I never listened. Just wait, she said... the later you get into your twenties, the longer the hangovers last. And don't tell her this, but she was right. I woke yesterday after a few too many glasses of wine and two mojitos, and I was in extremely rough shape. It seems like the headaches are worse, the nausea sets in at an earlier hour, and I just can't seem to hold my head up straight. It's like mother nature's way of telling you you are not 21 anymore, so stop trying to keep up. I think I'm going to have to let her win this one; she obviously knows best.