10:37 am | 21 May 2003 | there's only one prescription

The Definite Vodka Catatonic� Guide to
Ridding Oneself of a Hangover In a More Masterful Fashion,
Which (Unfortunately) Sometimes Leads to More Protracted
and Extreme Bouts of Drinking But Hey,
You�re Only Young Once, So What the Hell
(another in a series of instructional manuals intended to increase your enjoyment of drinking, or so you can learn from my mistakes, at least)

Oooof. Is that the sun, jabbing your eyes like a two-pronged pocketknife? Try to sit up. Slowly! You may have fallen at some point in the last twelve or so hours, so it�s best to assume the worst. Additionally, your stomach will be wobbling like a paraplegic Weeble right about now, and you don�t want to anger it.

Headache? Oh, yes. Your brain is going to feel like a county fair Pirate Ship for a little while, swinging violently back and forth, knocking against the inside of your skull. And it�s your own fault, you crazy nut. Nobody should be drinkin� a gallon of beer. Especially not in under four hours.

Conventional wisdom says to drink some Alka-Seltzer and take some painkillers�Advil or aspirin, please, the Tylenol will shred your already-crusty liver�and then go right back to sleep. When you wake up in three or eight hours, you�ll be almost fine again�a little wobbly on the feet, a little throbby in the head�but almost fine. So, if you have a whole day to blow in bed, by all means, go that route.

But, my friend, there is another way to survive the hangover; a way with myriad benefits that I�d urge you to try on for size. Here, I�ll go through it with you step-by-step.

We�re going to start BEFORE you pass out. What? you say. But I�m not hungover yet. Eeexactly. We�re going to preemptively attack. After all, drinking is a complex physiological chain of events, or something, and countering its effects requires a highly scientific bio-chemical response. Or something.

First: soak it up. Your stomach is a swampy marshland of booze right now, sloshing around haphazardly, and you want to stabilize and contain it. Popcorn works well, little fluffy corny kernels of spongy goodness. Actually, pretty much any bread product is your friend right now. Munch on that. Ahh, you�re feeling less floppy already. (Things to avoid eating when drunk: salad, large glasses of milk, a pound of mixed nuts. I speak from personal experience.)

Right before you go to bed, you�ll need some water, son, and tons of it. I�m not joking. Don�t screw around with Dixie cups, either. Get a giant tumbler and bolt water down like you�re a dehydrated camel with a ten-gallon hump to fill. I�ve seen two of my friends, both of �em hundred-pound Koreans, go through a full Brita pitcher in less than six minutes. That�s the caliber I�m talking about. And put a couple of bottles next to your bed, because when you wake up at four feeling like there�s a roll of cotton gauze wound around your tongue, you�re not gonna want to get up for the sweet hydration you so desperately crave.

If you�re a girl who wears makeup, you�ll want to wash your face right about now, too. This sounds frivolous, but believe you me, when you wake up hungover without the added insult of looking like Alice Cooper, well, that headache�ll be just a little bit more bearable.

Now, a brief respite from all the coaching: go ahead, pass out. Swim through the unspeakably fucked-up dreams you�re bound to have (if you are like me), or the motionless coma-sleep you may enjoy, if you are lucky. Try not to wet the bed.

In the morning, it will be as above. Tiny, malevolent elves will have burrowed into your ears and will be hammering on the anvils. You�ll swear you were clubbed with a blunt instrument. I know, my lamb. I�m going to make it all better.

Like before, pop some Advil or aspirin (this is good advice most mornings, I think). Have some water. Stare at yourself in the mirror for long moments, assessing your haggard, sallow pallor. Run a hand over your stubbly jaw (for guys) or try to flatten your hair (girls). Not gonna happen. Anyway, make like you�re actually getting ready for something. I know it hurts, but suck it up, big man. You�re the one who thought eleven rum shots were a good idea, remember? Yeah, I thought so.

Brush your teeth. Get in the shower or at least douse your head�feel the smoky reek, and all the hairspray you used to achieve your fresh bar-worthy 'do, cascading down the drain like your troubles. Ah. Put on something comfortable. Are you ready? Good. Here�s the most important step.

YOU NEED GREASY FOOD. After a night of serious indulgence, your body is genetically programmed to crave oily fatty greasy crispy fried goodness (also with salt, hopefully). This means omelettes. This means home-fried potatoes, hash browns, pancakes and/or waffles, and breakfast meats if you�re so inclined. Call your homies and head to a suitable establishment, such as the Hollywood Grill.

(The friends are an important element, too. You�ll actually do much more actual conversing and interpersonal bonding slumped painfully over a skillet of scramble than you will at any bar, anywhere, period.)

Anyway. Call the homies. If you�re lucky like me, most of them are within a six-block radius, which means both the drinking and the aftermath can be accomplished with relative ease. Meet up at the caf�, get a table for twelve, and decide how much cheese you�ll be needing this fine morning.

Get a coffee and a water. Hell, get a juice, if you want. This breakfast will still be costing you less than one round last night, so go nuts. I like to have a little salty and a little sweet with my grease�I mumble something about getting my blood sugar back up, but it�s really just my sweet tooth�so I usually go for waffles with hash browns. In my world the hashbrowns get both Tabasco and ketchup, and the waffles get positively crammed with butter and syrup (which is what the pockets are for, I�d wager), but I�ll leave it up to you. Eat with gusto. Don�t try to be all virtuous. Don�t deny that you want that giant, golf-ball-sized thwap of butter. No, go ahead and smear it voluptuously across the waffles.

The meal will be hasty, tasty, furtive, and silent, except for the clanking of Tabasco bottles and coffeecups.

After you�ve all finished eating, you�ll be surprised at how much better you feel. You may even attempt to smoke a cigarette. Oh, sure, you�ll still want to lay low for a while, at least. But that�s what movie rentals on a Saturday are all about. Go to someone�s house and flop on a couch, your body punch-drunk with the combination of savage hangover and food coma. You�ll feel great in just a few hours�just about the time someone goes, "Hey, what are we doing tonight?" clm.