Reminiscing on easier hangovers. Yes, really.

Ah, youth. I remember when I could overindulge and be fit as a fiddle by 1 p.m. the following day, or worst case scenario by 5 p.m. All I needed was a fountain coke and some grease and I was good to go.

Unfortunately, I left those days on the 20s side of 30. If I drink too much now? A four hour nap is mandatory, I try to cure myself with citrus fruits, and my stomach is fucked up for days regardless of what voodoo hangover remedies I use. I pray I have nothing to do besides lay on the couch and watch HGTV or Investigation Discovery all day. Since I am always busy, that is usually not the case, and I struggle through whatever plans I have, cursing and vowing "Never again!"

Yesterday, I was definitely a victim of the 2084902 glasses of pinot grigio I drank on Saturday. I had a great time at the wedding of friends, but yikes. I was not well on Sunday. I will never learn to ignore the wiley siren song of the wine.

At this wonderful wedding, the band played more than one Bruce tune. I was in heaven.

And he's touring in 2012. Holler. I wonder who will be tapped to play the Big Man's parts?

Happy Monday. Hopefully my stomach will simmer the frig down in time for me to enjoy my Thanksgiving wine.

Toodleoo,

SMD
p.s. You can't beat a three day work week with a stick.