Back in my young drinking days, a hangover was some sort of myth I had never experienced. I’d pass out around 3 AM (or later) and be up around nine ready to rock out my day. I’ve never been much of a sleeper. And while my roommates snoozed into the afternoon, I was in the kitchen making open-faced smoked salmon, avocado, fried egg sandwiches. Their loss.
Be it my ripe old age, or the fact that I have a kid, I just can’t hack it these days. If I roll into bed around three, I’m up three-four hours later. And that’s a no go, kids. Rock star drinking status? Kissed that goodbye years ago, along with my perky pre-nursing boobs (sigh).
So a couple weeks ago, after getting home at about 5:30 AM (!), I was definitely hurting the next day. Well, I guess technically just a couple hours later, but whatever. The cure to a few too many well vodka tonics and a late night run to the casino?
You’re lookin at it, kids. In-n-Out Cheeseburger. With onion. And pickles. And a realllly big Diet Coke (you know, cause its calorie free). Normally I go for the Double-Double, but it is the new year, and I have been working really hard to lose a few extra pounds. So I displayed a degree of restraint that probably would have helped me out a lot more the night before. At least I learned my lesson. I only had three drinks that night.