One Star Hangover (*)
No pain. No real feeling of illness. You're able to function relatively well. You can live this lifestyle every night. However, you are still
parched. You can drink 5 Cokes and still feel this way. For some reason, you are craving a burger & fries.
Two Star Hangover (**)
No pain, but something is definitely amiss. You may look okay, but you have the mental capacity of a staple gun. The coffee you are chugging is only increasing your rumbling gut, but you have a feeling it is just the calm before the storm, which is still tossing around the steak and eggs from the 3:00 AM Denny's excursion.
Three Star Hangover (***)
Slight headache. Stomach feels crappy. You are definitely not productive. But that's ok, you've mastered the art of looking busy. Anytime a girl walks by you gag because her perfume reminds you of the flavored Mead shots Bullseye Bill made last. Life would be better right now if you were home in your bed watching Law & Order reruns. You've had 4 cups of coffee, a gallon of water, 3 iced teas and a diet Coke
- yet you haven't peed once. Hmmm. . . you must be a bit dehydrated.
Four Star Hangover (****)
Life sucks. Your head is throbbing. You can't speak too quickly or else you might puke. Your boss has already lambasted you for being late and has given you a lecture for reeking of booze. You wore nice clothes, but that can't hide the fact that you only shaved one side of your face. You still have toothpaste crust in the corners of your mouth trying to hide the scent of the cat that came by and [edit by mod] in your mouth overnight. You spend your lunch "hours" in the front seat of your car sleeping in a fast food parking lot. You can't wait to get home to take that power nap. . . just so you can go out and do it again.
Five Star Hangover (*****)
Death is welcomed. You have a second heartbeat in your head, which is actually annoying the co-worker who sits in the next cube. Mead vapor is
seeping out of every pore and making you dizzy. The Red Bull has officially worn off. Your body has lost the ability to generate saliva so your tongue is suffocating you. Yet you can't stop sweating. Your diaphragm is sore from spending the night heaving while you can't seem to get the kink out of your neck either. . . guess that bathroom floor isn't as comfortable as you thought it would be. You spent the night swearing to God that you would never drink again if he'd make it all stop. However, you know that Mead time starts at 5:01 PM.
THINGS THAT ARE DIFFICULT TO SAY WHEN YOU'RE DRINKING MEAD:
THINGS THAT ARE VERY DIFFICULT TO SAY WHEN YOU'RE SLAMMING MEADED:
THINGS THAT ARE DOWNRIGHT IMPOSSIBLE TO SAY WHEN YOU'RE CHUGGING MEADED:
Nope, no more Mead for me.
Sorry, but you're not really my type.
Good evening officer isn't it lovely out tonight.
Oh, I just couldn't.
No one wants to hear me sing.
Ghost sit around the campfire and tell stories about Chuck Norris.