An Underrated Place

Last night I had a few post-work beverages with the dirtiest, horniest, top 3 funniest little man I know. Through some quirk of nature, or possibly much training, he can direct his voice. I know what you're thinking. Everyone directs their voice Benny you retard, you point your head and speak! And I would have agreed with you before I met this man-boy. We can be having a conversation about some chixors while standing on their feet and they will never hear a word. This probably developed as a survival tactic considering the content of his conversation.

What's strange is that he doesn't talk softly or unclearly, it's just that every word he says travels directly to your ear and no-where else. Somehow his voice stealths its way along a narrower corridor so that, while we are all blaring AM radios, he is a laser-disc personal stereo. Why anyone gifted with such a voice would choose to use it in the way he does I do not know, but it's certainly entertaining. I'll suggest a career in espionage when I next see him.

I didn't mean to talk about my friend for more than a sentence. I've wandered off topic, which is interesting because that (sort of) is the topic.

It's Saturday morning. And there's one thing about Saturday mornings that usually holds true... They are preceded by Friday nights.

Many years ago (okay 6), I saw Irish comedian Jimeoin talk about the stages of drunkenness. I think it was the usual act-like-an-idiot for gags kind of routine and the only one that I really remember is Stage 2: I am the greatest pool player who ever lived. I remember it because my mate Hangover and I use "Stage 2" as an accolade when either of us is playing like a drunken-master... Also off topic.

I am not here today to talk about Stealth's voice or Hangover's pool playing, I am here to talk about hangovers.

A great man once texted his mate "It is only when you have a hangover that you truly appreciate not having a hangover" while working in a bottle shop, with a caterpillar under his tongue, on a Saturday morning, and it was raining.

A brief timeline

• Stage 0 (aka Ground 0) - Your body finally realises that you have been willingly poisoning yourself (for up to 12 hours straight if it was a reasonable session with a BBQ and friends) and so knocks you the fsk out before you can do any more damage.
  
• Stage 1: At some point this TKO evolves into a protective sleep. Even unconscious, you know that the world can only offer pain and so you flee from it.
• Stages 2 through 6 are all about the pain of waking up and "I will never drink again" and other boring stuff. But I didn't go through that today so will leave it for another time.
• Stage 7: You waited and waited and finally your stomach content has thickened to something resembling tar. You can feel it. Sitting there. Solid and unbreakable. All the bad juju is escaping your body through a series of earth shattering farts. (Ironically, Hangover just texted me to let me know that people are fleeing the country to escape from hers.) You know everything is going to be alright. It is now safe to eat.
• Stage 8: This may be unique to me but I usually go through a stage of near-drunken giddiness once I have crested the wave of a hangover. I know that it's not over yet. But I also know that it soon will be. And this makes me completely euphoric for a time. It's a like titration in my brain where that one last drop of indicator completely tips the scales and makes everything go pink*. It is a very nice feeling... perhaps even better than the drinking part.
• Stage 9: Sailing in calm waters. Nothing done today but you're okay with that.
  

An integral part of the hangover is the attention span of a special-needs goldfish (see Stealth and Hangover anecdotes above) but I did learn some interesting things this morning. Did you know that sleep among species in inversely related to the animal size? Rats, with very high Basal metabolic rate, sleep for up to 14 hours a day whereas elephants and giraffes with lower BMRs sleep only 3-4 hours per day. Did you know that? I didn't know that! How can that make sense? Elephants must need huge amount of energy to move around and they hardly ever sleep? WTF mate?

I also learned the proper use of the apostrophe and will now promptly forget it again.

And I once again learned that Dylan Moran is the funniest man alive.


*That is some top banana nerd talk right there