My intense hangover in 6 steps
Champmigraine = McDonald's + Lil Kleine behavior
Okay, I'm a bit more sane again. A little bit. You should know: Wednesday night was the coolest Magnum pajayjay party ever at the Conservatorium Hotel. Keep an eye on the site today, because soon our May-Brittus will tell you ALL about it.
What do you get when you skip the usual glass of wine all night and instead go hardcore on the champagne? With a lychee cocktail here and there (by the way, quite divine), a few white chocolate shots, and then downing a Moscow mule or two? That's basically a direct invitation for a guest you’d rather not have standing next to your hotel bed on Thursday morning. A man. With a hammer and stuff. I say after every party before going to sleep that guy needs to get lost and YET he somehow found hotel room number 511 where Lil and I slept the day after without any trouble.
And no matter how crappy it is to feel like a shivering straw all day, there’s also something funny about it. Especially in my case, because I have a real ritual for it. Behold the six-step plan, a.k.a. a day of being hungover with Kieks.
1. The day ALWAYS starts cheerfully
When the man with the hammer knocks, I open the door singing for him and even offer him a cup of coffee. Everything is funny. Yesterday was fun, I don't feel hungover at all after four hours of sleep and secretly I suspect that the alcohol is still working.
2. And of course: then the whining begins....
Usually, the real hangover kicks in after an hour and a half of settling down. The wine migraine, the dry mouth, and the spaghetti legs. The terror. Then there’s about seventeen times of whining à la Brigitte Kaandorp: “I have a very heavy liiiiife... Yes really heeeaavyyyy…” I still crack up at this the video.
3. Then we HAVE to go to McDonald's
Doesn't matter where I am. Or with whom. I need cola and fries. And only the thin French fries from McDonald's will do. With a double portion of fry sauce (seriously; who has enough with just one portion?!). When the shit really hits the fan, I also throw a Quarter Pounder down the hatch. All of this is, of course, thoroughly documented. #CheckInstaStoriesForTheProof #Burp.
4. Then an impulse purchase must be made
No idea where that ridiculous, materialistic attitude comes from, but when I'm hungover I need something nice. I turn into Lil Kleine. Put on sunglasses from Céline and within five seconds I say: “I want this. Pack up the whole store. And that handsome salesperson too, please.”
5. Then videos must be sent to a number of affected parties
The whining in bed, the eating at McDonald's, the new purchase; everything must be shared. Usually with girlfriends, but also with colleagues if they happen to have bad luck. The exhaustion turns into busyness. My day isn't complete if I haven't sent 15 voice memos with all the possible accents I can think of.
6. Finally: do a butt dance when you've survived the day
And if necessary, end it earlier. A.k.a. diving into bed like a baby at eight o'clock in the evening drooling and just being knocked out for 14 hours. FOURTEEN. HOURS.
You understand: this joker is going to keep a low profile for the next month. Better for the three B's: the bed, the bank account, and the butt. Lil Kleine is going underground again.
