Friday, January 31, 2014

Alcohol makes a lousy calculator, so … Be safe on Super Sunday to avoid Miserable Monday


Opinion by William Wilczewski

(Special note to reader: If you are 20 years of age or younger, please turn the page or give this column to your father or mother, but certainly don’t take it seriously …)
(Extra special note to other readers: If you are 21 years of age or older, then read this column, take it to heart with more than a dash of humor, but certainly don’t take it too seriously, either, because over-indulging in alcohol is not only bad for your health, but when combined with getting behind the wheel can be deadly for yourself and others …)
When this time of year rolls around, I usually think of two things.
1.) As a huge football fan, I love Super Sunday. It’s one of the best days on Planet Sport.
2) Why is it always on Sunday, though? Because I hate going to work that following Monday.
You know, the dry throat, upset stomach and the feeling of a drum set being played behind your eyeballs.
Yep, you guessed it … the dreaded hangover!
I hate to say that I’ve shared time with this fiend in the past, but I have, so with experience comes knowledge. And with knowledge comes the responsibility of passing it on to others.
Having said that—and this is not a new idea in the journalism field by any stretch of the imagination—here is my take on what a hangover is, how to avoid one (which is key) and if you can’t avoid one, what to do when the devil knocks on your door.
I say devil because if you’ve ever had a hangover, you know what over-imbibing on adult liquid refreshments can do to every inch and ounce of your body and soul.
If you haven’t, PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING THAT’S HOLY, DON’T OVERDO IT COME SUNDAY. YOU WILL THANK ME LATER!
Anyway, simply put, a hangover is your body’s evil revenge for not listening to it!
The drum set is its way of saying HEY STUPID! I TOLD YOU TO STOP, BUT YOU HAD TO KEEP GOING, DIDN’T YOU?
Because you didn’t, your mouth feels like the Sahara in summertime and your stomach feels like you swallowed an ashtray—which, and in many cases, you probably did, although you just don’t remember.
That, however, is another way of knowing you’ve paid a visit to Hangoverville.
Loss of memory.
Don’t worry, though, as time goes by on Miserable Monday, you will receive plenty of reminders that will slowly piece things together. They will come in droves, and in person, via text, via e-mail and in worse case scenarios even by fax … or sometimes all of the above.
Usually those reminders come from those closest to you, like your wife, kids, other friends and family and the like. As embarrassing as this music can be to face, though, be glad it’s coming from someone you know, because—chances are—if it comes from someone you barely knew or someone you don’t even remember meeting, there won’t be a hole in the ground close enough to hide in.
Likely, though, the reminder will come from the person closest to you—although it won’t seem that way at the time, because they are usually not happy with you, not hung-over and have a much clearer and vivid memory of—let’s say—exactly why you woke up in that closet with a homemade Seahawks bandana wrapped around your head or why the neighbor’s dog won’t be getting near you for at least the next five years.
If you do find yourself in this situation, though, I implore you to not do one thing: especially if you’re a big sports fan, don’t ask This-Person-That-Was-Once-Close-To-You what the score of the game was or who won. This will only fuel the justice fire they hold deep in their belly because of your silly antics—the ones that at this point, may I remind you, only they remember.
Anyway, here in the Southwest, I’ve learned the best cure for hangovers is Birria, Cabeza or a bowl of Menudo or Pozole.
The only real ways to make sure those eyeballs aren’t pounding a jam session from Jimmy Hendrix, though, comes in the form of one of two magic words.
Abstinence or moderation!
These should be your guides to all Super Bowl—or any other—parties for as long as you’re on this side of the dirt.
Needless to say, abstinence—or drinking diet Coke all night long, in this case—is the best and most obvious choice.
If you’re going to take a nip or two, however, remember that alcohol makes you a bad calculator … and even makes you unable to use the real thing.
In other words, IT TURNS YOU INTO AN IDIOT, so remember, a shot of tequila is just that—A SHOT … … as in one, not cinco!
That one shot is ALWAYS best chased with the aforementioned Birria or Cabeza; not a Bud Light, because very soon one BL turns into cinco for the above-mentioned reason.
That cycle then tends to repeat itself like an endless math problem until you wake up in that closet with the bandana, Sahara Desert, ashtray and Jimmy Hendrix.
Now you might be asking, if that does happen, what do I do?
Well, as much as I’d like to think otherwise, the only answer to that question is clear …
SUFFER, YOU FOOL!
YOU DESERVE IT!
I TOLD YOU IN THIS COLUMN THAT ABSTINENCE OR MODERATION ARE THE KEYS!
WEREN’T YOU LISTENING?
(P.S.: If you feel I crossed the line in this column by glamorizing binge-drinking and its dangers, please feel free to e-mail me at Ski@take-a-joke@hotmail.com.)
(P.P.S.: Or better yet, go to http://www.aa.org/ and see the dangers of this overindulging nightmare for yourself.)

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