75 Thoughts Everyone Has When Hungover At Work

 

1. I will make it through this day I will make it through this day.

2. If I survived public transport I can survive eight hours of pretending to work.

3. Maybe if I keep a low profile no one will know I’m wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

4. And that I’m drinking Coke at 9am.

5. And that I smell of Jagerbombs.

6. And disappointing sex.

7. Clutching onto an egg McMuffin like it’s your last bit of crack is probably a bit suspicious though.

8. Thank you McMuffin for bringing light into an otherwise dark and twisted world.

9. Not eating last night was a mistake.

10. A mistake among many other horrible mistakes.

11. Like telling Amy from accounts my dream about David Attenborough doing some very sexy ironing.

12. And how turned on I was by it.

13. Very turned on.

14. Why does everyone looks so productive?

15. Look at them, working.

16. LOSERS, ALL OF YOU. 

17. I do NOT want to be here.

18. Oh god, John is asking me about a report already.

19. WHY ARE YOU TALKING TO ME JOHN?

20. Can you not see I’m in no fit state to talk to you about fucking bar charts John?

21. I’m eating a double sausage and egg McMuffin and drinking a can of fucking Coke FOR CHRIST’S SAKE JOHN.

22. I think he’s noticed I’m basically brain dead.

23. The drool was a nice touch.

24. Albeit completely involuntary.

25. I just want to go home.

26. Would anyone even notice me if I left?

27. I’m really not important here guys.

28. Just fire me.

29. I fuck everything up anyway.

30. I don’t even know how to use the printer.

31. Maybe I’ll force them to fire me. 

32. I’ll punch John in the face.

33. No, need money.

34. Money to keep up this shameless, hedonistic lifestyle.

35. I’m like Jordan fucking Belfort.

36. What is our CEO doing on this floor?

37. Nothing to see here Madam CEO, just me working on some very important slides.

38. Some very important slides that just say “slides” but in different colours.

39. Quite good really.

40. God, I don’t want to do anything.

45. Turns out pretending to work is harder than actually working.

46. I’m just gonna go to the loo, if I’m lucky I’ll be sick.

47. Or I’ll have a poo.

48. The toilet is so warm.

49. I’ll just close my eyes for a second.

50. Or a minute.

51. Maybe an hour.

52. SHIT HOW LONG HAVE I BEEN HERE?

53. How is it only 11am?

54. This is the longest day in the history of man.

55. Someone save me.

56. I’m gonna take lunch early and have another nap in the supplies cupboard.

57. Wait who’s in here?

58. Oh, just another desperate colleague filled with all-consuming shame.

59. Feel a bit better about myself now.

60. Boozy lunch at the pub is being discussed.

61. This could go two ways.

62. I could feel better, hair of the dog and all that.

63. Or, I could feel worse and be sick everywhere and have to go home.

64. Either way I win I guess.

65. This is probably the best decision I’ve made all week.

66. Well that was probably the worst decision I’ve made all week.

67. That, and letting David Attenborough undress me with his feet.

68. I’m going to stare at my screen and think about my life choices.

69. Thank god Friday is not even a real working day.

70. Can people not see the pain I am in?

71. Everyone’s clocking off at 5 and fucking off to the pub.

71. Maybe I can slip out too as if I’m going with them.

73. Then run off home and question my entire existence.

74. Or I could just go to the pub and do it all again…

75. WAIT FOR ME JOHN!

The Hangover, The Drive And The Hand Grenade That Put Me Over The Top

I remembered it like it was Saturday...because it was actually Saturday. I'm at this bar with my buddies and like the guy that I am, I come in guns blazing and get this party started. 

Shot after shot...after shot. Tequila. Down the hatch. Fireball. Keep it coming. Jager. Stop teasing me. Rumplemintz. Now we are going old school. 

From the moment I set foot in one of the classiest dives around, I knew this night was going to be a great fucking night. 

I was drunk like a 15 year old with a six pack of Zima, walking around like a girl wearing six inch heels for the very first time. No fucks to give. No reasons to care. No standards. No morals. No nothing. Just fucking Shitty McShitfaced. I was beyond the point of getting any type of pussy but hey, shit happens as our infamous leader, J-Wunder, would say. 

We close down the bar, hop in a cab and take our asses home. 

Fast forward to the next day...

My buddy and I are heading home and like a stupid fuck, I decide to drive my car. With a hangover so bad that it made me cry twice, I just wanted to get the fuck home, curl up in a ball, order some pizza and watch Jean Claude Van Damme and Steven Segal flicks. We get in the car with some bottled water, advil and a Bible to help us get through this 2 hour drive home. 

So you're not all bored to death, we get an hour into the drive when my buddy starts to get the most awful gas known to man. I'm talking some toxic Area 51 shit. This stuff was North Korea nuclear. No joke. 

Practically the rest of the drive, I had to roll down the window gagging my fucking brains out, hoping not to puke as he sat there, still wasted, laughing his ass off. His anus was like a machine gun with unlimited bullets. I almost pulled over and asked him to go lay his ass in the trunk because I was thoroughly convinced this motherfucker shit his pants and probably stained my seat. 

I kid you not, as soon as I roll up the windows, within ten minutes, this fool did something that I will never ever EVER forget. 

Dazed, confused, still a little wasted and hungover as all sin, I wasn't prepared for what my buddy did. Concentrating on the road and doing my best not to get pulled over for a possible DUI, this guy cups his hand between the seat and his asshole, shoots a silent fart out, cups that shit like he caught some fireflies, holds it and then as I was in mid yawn, this motherfucker throws that gas right into my mouth. We like to call this the HAND GRENADE. 

It was right then and there that the unthinkable happened. 

With no time to react, I felt like someone dropped a hot one in my mouth and I ingested death with a hint of basil and lemon. I swerve onto the shoulder, try to gain my composure then with one more whiff of what must have smelled like a 3rd World Country, I puked. 

I PUKED EVERYWHERE. 

On my steering wheel.

Dashboard. 

Lap.

Shoes.

Floor.

Seats.

My buddy. 

The windshield. 

Any fucking place you could find in the front of a car, I hit that sonofabitch with such force, it looked like that scene from Pulp Fiction where Vincent shoots Marvin in the face and dude's head splatters EVERYWHERE. Fucked up shit, right?

Parked on the side of the road, puke all up in my car, I'm freaking the fuck out because what started off to be funny, shit got real. So real, that the smell made my buddy puke. Luckily, outside and on parts of the passenger door. 

Me: "What the fuck bro?! Who the fuck does that to someone who is hung the fuck over?!"

Buddy: "I've done that shit to you a million times. How the hell was I supposed to know you were gonna puke like the scene from Stand By Me, asshole?!"

Me: "Who farts like that? Are you sick, motherfucker?! You got a disease you ain't never told us about? You dying fool?! Whose ass smells like that?!"

Buddy: "Did you not notice what the fuck we drank, bro?!" 

As this whole argument is going down on the side of the road...puke splattered all over the car with remnants of Taco Bell and what I think was In and Out, a cop pulls up. 

We don't know what the fuck to do but sit there. Puke just chillin'. 

Cop: "What.On.Earth. What in God's name happened here?! Are you two ok? Jesus, boys. This is like a murder scene. Do you need assistance?"

Buddy: "Officer, my friend and I have the stomach flu and we were trying to make it home and get some rest."

Cop: "I think I might puke. What is that on your leg son?! Is that...Is that...Son, did you just shit yourself?!"

Buddy: "OMG...officer, I'm so sorry. I can't control myself. I'm really sick. This is soooo embarrassing."

*It was right here when I wish I had a taser to light this motherfucker up. Shit?! Really, bro?!*

Cop: "Boys, go home. Actually, there's a Target right off this next exit. Go there and get some stuff to clean this car up. You two are an absolute wreck. My God."

Me: "Thank you, officer. We're really sorry. We weren't expecting this. Especially my friend going dookie in his pants."

Ten minutes later, we find the Target, change into our clothes from the night before...but not before I slap the shit out of my buddy for not realizing that he threw up so hard he shat himself...through his pants and onto my seat. Not even the Ghetto Genius does something like this. FML. 

We walk into Target smelling like death, broken promises and other shit I would rather not even talk about. We leave spending at least $200 in cleaning supplies and towels. And believe it or not, we didn't do too bad of a job cleaning up what we could. 2 hours later, we head home and don't say a fucking word to one another. 

I drop my buddy off and as he opens the door I could only mutter the words, "Bro, I'm not proud of what we did, more importantly, I'm not proud of what you did by shitting your pants on MY goddamn seat. You're getting my car detailed and I don't care what it cost. Your ass is paying for it. No more hang grenades, man. Especially when I'm hungover like that. Dickface."

Buddy: "My bad bro. I didn't think one lousy fart would do that. You think that cop is going to tell his buddies back at the station?"

Me: "Who cares. You know what though?"

Buddy: "What's that?"

Me: "I'm gonna tell J, and make sure the whole world knows you shit your pants, asshole. Fuck you and get out of my car. See you tomorrow." 

Fuck this guy. 

FUCK.THIS.GUY.  

My 1st Work Hangover

Graph Expo (Chicago), October 2002. First job out of college as a sales rep for a 17 billion dollar company. Here I am at the biggest printing trade show platform in North America, ready to take on every business owner known to man. 22 years old and all I want to do is be that guy...the one that surprises all those "mentors" who could really give a shit about the kid out of college. First order of business, take care of those clients that are willing to spend the dough. One thing everyone needs to know about this company is that every rep needs to do whatever it takes to get these clients reeled in - dinners, drinks, gifts, blah, blah, blah..ENTERTAINMENT IS YOUR MIDDLE NAME. And for me, the company that resides in Los Angeles (my territory), wanted exactly that.

The trade show ends on day one and almost every rep has plans with different clientele. Luckily for me, my GM asked if I could entertain some guests as a good "first time to get my cherry popped" experience in the world of sales. How hard could it be, right? Take some guys out to dinner and drinks and call it a night and be ready for our morning meeting at 7am the next day. This didn't go according to plan...

One thing I realized was that when you have a group of men that have been married for years, kids in high school and get the opportunity to leave all that for 5 days for free food, booze and entertainment...they are gonna run with it! FOR ALL 5 FUCKING DAYS!!!! For them, it's like a bachelor party without the bachelor and Las Vegas present. Instead of writing massive amounts of lines, let me draw out what our itinerary was like:

7pm - Drinks at the hotel bar (Sky Bar at the W Hotel is the bomb)...3-4 drinks

8:30pm - Another bar down Rush and Division...roughly 3-5 drinks. We're feeling saucy and at this point, business talk has been thrown out the fucking window and now topics include, sports, next bar to hit and possible strip clubs.

10pm - Pit stop at the Excalibur (don't worry, we didn't fly to Vegas and this isn't a strip joint). Low and behold, we're at a party thrown by my company's lovely competitor. They have no fucking clue who I am...I'm the recent college grad, remember? Free drinks for me and my clients = edge of blacking out!

1am - Guess what folks, we're still drinking for free!

3am - Blacking out is almost near...

5am - Shit faced, about to throw up and my generous hospitality gets a limo for me and my guests back to the hotel. Let me mention that the hotel was probably only 5 blocks away. My excuse? We couldn't walk to save our lives.

6am - Not really sure what happened between the time we got in the limo and back to the hotel. And I'm not really sure I want to remember...my point is we got back fuckers! Oh, guess who has a meeting in 1 hour? Me! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!!!

7am - Enter drunk me into a room with 25 other drunk fucks who haven't slept. Thank you Jesus! This ain't so bad afterall...

10am - Meeting and breakfast is over, hit the showroom floor and here comes the fury of, "Holy shit man, I'm either gonna throw up or shit myself." What to do, what to do?

10:45am - Scrambling to the bathroom in this big ass venue. I'm new to everything and have no clue where I'm at because 1) I'm still fucked up, 2) I'm about to puke, 3) Did I say I was still fucked up?

11am - *cue the victory music* Bathroom is found and I run in that mother fucker like Huessin Bolt running his 40 yard dash. No need to barf, just drop my fucking slacks and drop bombs like it's WWII all over again.

Think of every fucking awful noise you could possibly think of and that was me dropping deuce (I know this is TMI but roll with me here folks). I was wrecking that porcelin god like Dirk Diggler destroying a midget in one of those fetish porno's. "What the fuck?!" I look to my right when I grab for some tp. "That's not what I think it is, is it?!" I take a closer look. "Son of a fucking bitch dude! Son of a fucking bitch dude! That is not what I think it is in the men's bathroom!" Guys, I can't believe I'm writing this now that I think about it...if you haven't figured it out, I'll tell you...

While I'm taking this dump that has made me teary eyed and moan like a drowing tiger, I noticed what I thought I would never see...a fucking tampon dispenser. Read that again. A FUCKING TAMPON DISPENSER! I'm still drunk and taking the most atrocious crap in the woman's restroom right now! I put my hands on my head and start to hear voices. That's right, female voices. Big fucking dilemma! Blowing ass violently in a woman's restroom behind door number 1 (that's right, I took the first fucking stall I saw open), isn't gonna be pleasant for the chick who's waiting. "Deep breaths...finish what you got, wipe and just leave as if you don't see anyone." All I had at this point was to try to talk myself through it. "Why the fuck did I drink all that booze and eat those hot wings and artichoke dip last night?!" Time to finish...

I wipe, tuck in my dress shirt, button up and prepare to face the person who's feet I've been looking at while the fury has been shooting out of my anus for the last 10 minutes. The toilet flushes, the door opens...

In front of me stares a very large black woman who has this look...it's not the type of look you would think...it's so bad, there's not even a word to describe it. It's a look worse than if you were to find out your best friend banged your mom or dad. A look worse than if you found out your friend got off watching donkey shows in Tijuana every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. It was a look like if you met Satan in a dark alley with your pants down masturbating with a pickle in your mouth while wearing a gold chain with whipped cream smeared around your nipples. That's the only words I could describe this look. I couldn't look down when I opened that door, something told me to look up and deal with it. "That.Is.Disgusting." She muttered those words and all I could do was give her a blank ass stare with a little side smirk. I ran, ran without washing my hands...ran so fast, hoping no other woman could see me leave.

I got my cherry popped alright. Getting my drink on with actual clients and shitting with furious anger and vengeance while getting caught in the women's fucking restroom. FML!