Hangovenger Hunt: The Search For What Happened

Well the challenge has been given, Ben over at 20sb is running a contest for the best hangover stories, and well despite my recent revelation on who reads this here blog, I’m a sucker for a contest.

When telling a story you always need to make sure you tell your audience the who, what, where, when, why and how (like Nick News).  Those are almost always what you need to tell a good story.  The only exception is a “hangover story.” Usually in a hangover story you are given one, maybe two of these things, and the story becomes filling in the rest.  Its like a scavenger hunt for your life.

Step one for a hangover story is to collect evidence.  You must find physical artifacts that will help tell your story.  Be it a receipt from McDonald’s on the corner of Delancey and Essex street from 1am for a thing of cookies (hypothetically) or a smattering of White Castle slider cases strewn about your dorm room in your sophomore year of college (again…totally hypothetical…i swear).

With this evidence you can begin to paint a picture that will help explain the throbbing headache that you are currently experiencing.  Because, in the end, that is all you want.  To find out who, or what, to blame your current state on.  Unfortunately this will only paint part of the picture. You find a receipt for a bar tab closed at 2am in West Village, but then you find a receipt for what was very obviously a drunken meal at 4am, you realize you have two hours that need to be filled in.

Now you check your physical surroundings, at this time your eyes will have adjusted to the jarring sensation that is sunlight enough so that you will be able to see more than two feet in front of you.  So answer this question, Where are you?  Your own bed? Good for you.  Your own couch?  you get an A for effort but a C for execution.  A friend’s couch? Not bad.  A strange couch in an apartment you have never seen before? Fail! Prison? EPIC FAIL! (I have decided to leave out the option of “getting any” because, lets face it, if you have to work this hard to figure out what the hell happened you clearly weren’t as suave as you thought you were last night)

So now you’ve loosely established what, and where, it is time to discern the “who.”  Luckily, in the modern age of the cellphone this is much easier.  Although, this is dangerous.  You probably don’t want to know that you texted every ex you have every had.  Smoooooth. Okay, who else did you call? Ah, an old friend you hadn’t seen in a while.  This is precisely when your headache helps you remember why you hadn’t hung out with ol’ Schmitty in a while.  Because shit like this happens.  Fucking Schmitty. (apparently you hang out with people named Schmitty, which is just strange).  Well its at this point where you determine who you hung out with (aside from that nut, Schmitty, he’s probably not even in the same state he started in, so he’ll be no help).  This is when you swallow your pride (like you have any left) and send a mass text message out to your partners in crime asking “What happened last night?”  If you are lucky, you’ll receive a lot of responses that look similar to  “oh man, i don’t know either dude… crazy night!!”  At this point you can formulate your own oral history of the details between your group and be done with it. Use the collective conscience of the group and put together a decent picture.

If you are unlucky you’ll receive texts that look more like “yeah…you were in rare form” or, at worst, “yeah, we need to talk.”  This is the worst case scenario.  You have alienated your friends, at least temporarily.  Also, you are going to be given a blow by blow account of EXACTLY what happened.  Unfortunately, it won’t be a pretty picture.  You never want to know exactly how you ended up in your current state.  It should be vague, and full of holes, and not paint you as the village asshole. (especially if like me, you live in a fucking huge village)

Now that you’ve had a good laugh about your night (or an intervention, we are all here because we care about you).   Go prepare your favorite hangover cure, be it eggs and alka-seltzer, OJ and Advil, or the hair of the dog that bit you (but thats not enjoying responsibly, you need to cool it)  And rest up.  Who knows what the next adventure will bring you, just try to keep it cool next time.  Someone’s gotta be able to tell the story tomorrow.

Also, for the necessary contest credentials!

Don’t Be a Jonze!


7 Responses to “Hangovenger Hunt: The Search For What Happened”

  1. yes, i prefer my drunken asshole stories to be vague and full of holes.

  2. Hahahaha this is fantastic! Well done!

  3. its even better when you don’t remember what happened…but turns out you never even left your house

  4. p.s Hi Mr and Mrs. Gleason

  5. […Let’s check out the entries, shall we?…]

  6. “he’s probably not even in the same state he started in” LMAO

    It’s easier to piece your nights back together if you bring a camera along for the ride. I swear. Just make sure you don’t lose the camera.

  7. glittershrapnel Says:

    There is a night, approximately one year ago, from which gory details are still extracted. The worst part about it is that the details get worse and worse. I gave up on being a master sleuth and figure I don’t remember for a reason… (from Ben’s contest: Melissa @ http://melissaleeanne.blogspot.com)

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