|Lisa (right) and The Thing That Wouldn't Leave|
The price of getting mulleted like Mother did last night is a dead fish whack on the head all the next day. Well, not all day - there are The Stages.
The Why Why Why stage: Poor me, why did the mean hangover fairies choose me? No fair!
The Delicate and Dizzy stage: While watching Cy's soccer game, I scoff sushi and real Coke (don't even think about the low cal, bring in the big guns). Followed at home with bacon and eggs and kiwi fruit.
That afternoon Kevin and I left for an evening in San Franciso sans famile. It's only 12 mins across the Bay Bridge from where we live in Oakland and I barely go there once a month. Shame on me, I've become such a dreary suburban housewife, friends.
|Crossing the Bay Bridge|
|Out The Door plant-blob tea|
Next the SFMOMA art gallery which I chose to match all the stripes I was wearing that day, obviously. Can you believe I've had this cardy for years and never worn it. I was "keeping it for good." Gosh I'm so bourgeois. Suburban bourgeois housewife. Is that a triple redundancy?
Anyway a tour of the MOMA explains the next couple of stages...
|Bunch of hungover people left their brains here|
|Speaks to me of human suffering|
|Speaks to me of human suffering (oh sorry, it's just an Exit sign)|
|This bloke looks how I feel|
|Lace, leopard and red! Oh my! Bad hangover shoes|
Then up the road to Harry Denton's Starlight Room, an icon here (we still haven't got round to doing the "Sunday's A Drag Brunch" featuring the most beauteous drag Queens in the land. ) The final stage - Resisting Hair of the Dog. Oh I do feel like a glass of champers, but I opt for a couple of ginger ales and chat to the bartender.
|Harry Denton's Starlight Room|
I woke up the next morning at the final stage: Cured. Can't remember how to do Pinterest though. Another bunch of lifestyle porn I'll have to miss out on. So what's your favourite hangover cure?