We’ve all been there. We wake up in bed, hungover as sh*t, and in desperate need of water and greasy food…and maybe a bucket (just in case). We’re trying to piece the night back together, when the phone rings.
It’s your best friend to the rescue to help you fill in the blanks—well maybe, sometimes they go just as hard as you and all hope is lost. But in the case that the two of you remember enough to put it all together, it normally goes like this:
- How are you feeling?
- I’m dead.
- Are you as miserable as I am?
- What happened last night?
- *Description of what one (or both) of you did*
- I hate myself.
- I’m never ever drinking again. (You both get just as drunk next weekend.)
- Why did we think that that just one more shot would be a good idea?
- I think I'm literally sweating jäger…and tequila…and vodka.
- Wait…didn’t you start a fight/get on top of the bar/make out with someone?!
- We’re not gonna talk about that.
- I can’t decide whether I’m hungry or nauseated.
- I need Gatorade and a bacon, egg, and cheese right now.
- How am I supposed to be a real person today?
- Why am I covered in bruises?
- After last night, I think we drove the bus into struggle city and became the mayors.
- I feel like I got hit by a bus…
- I can’t with us.
- Maybe I’ll go to the gym and sweat out the rest of the alcohol.
- HAHA good luck with that.
- Just kidding, currently in fetal position, and not leaving my bed unless it’s to throw up.
- Want to get food?
- …But that means we’ll have to leave bed.
- And bed is bae right now.
- But like…bacon.
*8 Hours Later*
- So…are we going out tonight?
- H*ll yeah we are