New Year's dissolution
I swore off men and hangovers on New Year's Eve and woke up with both on New Year's Day.

I'd really like to know how I got mud inside my stilettos, tree bark in my hair and £1.40 of loose change in my bra.

I think I am also banned from Wiltshire.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 16:28, 8 replies)

Dear god...
Let's hope a fellow b3tan can help you fill in the blanks.
( dan j the filthy bastard, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 16:42, closed)

well...
curious as I am it might perhaps be better if I never know... I do know a lot of black sambuca was involved. And prosecco. And then it goes a bit blurry. And then it's 10am the next morning and I'm gulping down berocca.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 16:45, closed)

What I'd really like to know
is what the heck you did to upset the Wiltshirians (best pronounced with faux-Connery voice)?
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Wed 2 Jan 2008, 16:47, closed)

dunno
but I sidled onto the train very sheepishly, somehow knowing I had been rather bad the evening before. Maybe I just felt guilty for drinking all their sambuca.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 16:54, closed)

Oh dear...
Reminds me of that horrible, indescribable dread you feel on waking up the next morning when you know that you were at the centre of controversy, but can't remember exactly what.

What you do know is that when the skimpiest offlashbacks your subconscious mind feeds you start to coalesce into a tangible memory, you'll cringe and utter an involuntary "ohfuckohfuckohfuck!" under your breath, which usually happens in a crowded public place.

Yep, hangovers aren't cool, kids.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Wed 2 Jan 2008, 17:04, closed)

PJM
what I believe you are referring to is the "waves of shame". It's that feeling that periodically hits you throughout the day after as tiny bits of the evening start to piece themsleves back together. it's a sick to your stomach, "oh jesus, I didn't, did I?" type of thing.

I spent all yesterday like that.

And to make it worse, there's only one pub here. And I can never go in it again. yet I have no idea why...

*sobs*
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 17:09, closed)

There are two ways of dealing with it
1) Hide away in shame, promise never to drink to excess again and never visit the pub in question - partly out of fear of being slapped in the face and partly because you know it'll jolt your memory into unleashing a particularly gruesome flashback. I find that the self-loathing phase ususally disappears by the following Friday when your promise never to touch the evil brew is forgotten.

2) Go on the offensive, phone your friends and start the conversation with "My god you were plastered last night! How on Earth did you get home?". Note: Bluffing can occasionally backfire.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Wed 2 Jan 2008, 17:14, closed)

.
say your drink was spiked.
(weedom, Thu 3 Jan 2008, 3:25, closed)