Five Stages of Hangovers

One Star Hangover (*)

No pain. No real feeling of illness. Your sleep last night was a mere disco nap which is giving you a whole lot of misplaced energy. Be glad that you are able to function relatively well. However, you are still parched. You can drink 10 sodas and still feel this way. Even vegetarians are craving a steakbomb and a side of gravy fries from any Truck Stop USA.

Two Star Hangover (**)

No pain. Something is definitely amiss. You may look okay,but you have the attention span and mental apacity of a staple gun. The coffee you chug to try and remain focused is only exacerbating your rumbling gut, which is craving a Rootie Tootie Fresh-N-Fruity pancake breakfast from IHOP. Last night has wreaked havoc on your bowels and even though you have a nice demeanor about the office, you are costing your employer valuable money because all you really can handle is surfing Internet porn and writing junk e-mails.

Three Star Hangover (***)

Slight headache. Stomach feels crappy. You are definitely a space shot and not so productive. Anytime a girl walks by you gag because her perfume reminds you of the random gin shots you did with your alcoholic friends after the bouncer 86'd you at 1:45am. Life would be better right now if you were in your bed with a dozen donuts and a meatball sub watching the E! Fashion Awards. You've had four cups of coffee, a gallon of water, three Snapples, and a liter of Diet Coke-- yet you haven't peed once.

Four Star Hangover (****)

Life sucks. Your head is throbbing and you can't speak too quickly or else you might puke. Your boss has already lambasted you for being late and has given you a lecture for wreaking of booze. You wore nice clothes, but can't hide the fact that you missed a an oh-so-crucial spot shaving (girls, it looks like you put your make-up on while riding the bumper cars), your teeth have sweaters, your eyes look like one big vein, and your hairstyle makes you look like a reject from the class picture of Revere High, '76. You would shoot your mother for one or all of the following:

Five Star Hangover (*****)
(A.K.A. Dante's Fourth Circle of Hell)

You have a second heartbeat in your head, which is actually annoying the employee who sits in the next cubicle. Vodka vapor is seeping our of every pore and making you dizzy. You still have toothpaste crust in the corners of your mouth from brushing your teeth. Your body has lost the ability to generate saliva, so your tongue is suffocating you. You'd cry, but that would take the last of the moisture left in your body. Death seems pretty good right now. Your boss doesn't even get mad at you and your co-workers think that your dog died because you look so pathetic. You should have called in sick because let's face it, all you can manage to do is bitch about your state -- which is a mystery to you because you definitely don't remember who you were with, where you were, what you drank, and why there is a stranger still sleeping in your bed, unaccompanied, at your house. The only thing you can do is pass out. It's when you wake up a fwe hours later with a lesser star hangover that you eat a large pizza, an order of Kung Pao Chicken, a ham and cheese omelet, and a batch of Rice Krispie Treats.