- My hangover is a lonely hunter.
- My hangover always swings at anything high and away that comes its way.
- My hangover doesn’t give a shit about my high cholesterol levels, especially when my hangover wants country-fried steak drenched in gravy and shame.
- My hangover demands constant acknowledgment and attention.
- My hangover grew up, lives and thrives in a world of imaginable yet unpleasant pain.
- My hangover is indifferent about the idiocy and hypocrisy of greasy, philandering politicians.
- My hangover would bang your mom, but it’s not in the mood.
- My hangover denies everything, even good things.
- My hangover went to church once, but it vomited and was promptly asked to leave and never return, a request it has taken very, very seriously.
- My hangover hates to be pigeonholed or typecast, and so although it is never unexpected, it is always in some way unpredictable.
- My hangover is seriously contemplating a change.org petition re: legislation forcing Chik-Fil-A to be open on Sundays. (You know, since they believe in legislation that doesn’t allow marriage equality.)
- My hangover persists for up to 48 hours.
- My hangover is generally pensive.
- My hangover feels perpetually misunderstood and doesn’t know how to properly express itself to people who are unable to readily empathize with it.
- My hangover generally prefers Wendy’s over McDonald’s, but is open to extensive, intense debates on the topic.
- My hangover loses power after I rub one out, but comes back with a vengeance about an hour later.
- My hangover looks at a box of a dozen donuts as a challenge.
- My hangover looks at a bottle of multivitamins as a threat.
- My hangover laughs at the previous evening’s happenings, even though it often has a vague-at-best sense of what truly transpired, sort of like how the characters in LOST often had flashbacks to moments they hadn’t thought about in a long, long time.
- My hangover feels rage re: 9/11 Truthers.
- My hangover and I both agree that Lena Dunham’s recently released book was an OK read, and that Dunham did not molest her younger sister when they were children.
- My hangover has seen me get off more in the past decade than My Drunk Passenger.
- My hangover has seen more episodes of The X-Files than you can even fathom, and my hangover has some very interesting theories re: The Smoking Man and also the on-again/off-again romance of Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully.
- My hangover is right behind you. Don’t move. It won’t hurt you if you don’t move.
- My hangover uses words like “cogently” and “anthemic” in an effort to appear more intelligent than it is.
- My hangover still appreciates Brand New.
- My hangover is not going to jail for you or for anybody, man.
- My hangover bombed both the SATs and ACTs but did pretty well on the essay portion of the SATs, if it says so itself.
- My hangover is ornery.
- My hangover has still not forgiven Chris Brown.
- My hangover forgets how to calculate tips or do even the most rudimentary of math that goes beyond counting on fingers and toes.
- My hangover knows my darkest secrets.
- My hangover just missed watching the New York City Marathon AGAIN.
- My hangover eschews confrontational conversations, puts them off until a time to-be-determined.
- My hangover does not respect my Google Calendar or alarm clock.
- My hangover knows what you did last summer but cannot clearly remember until about 3 PM on a “good day.”
- My hangover believes that French fries dipped in mayonnaise are all the therapy a person could ever really need.
- My hangover can’t cook for shit.
- My hangover feels a deep empathy for Charlie Brown re: trying to kick a football.
- My hangover has never blamed President Obama for its shortcomings, and believes that Hillary Clinton would be a great next POTUS for whom to not blame for its shortcomings.
- My hangover has never been in a fistfight.
- My hangover is mostly a nihilist, unless egg rolls are involved. If egg rolls are involved, my hangover will believe in anything you tell it to.
- My hangover misses Surge more than most Millennials.
- My hangover is soothed only by cloudy skies and artificially-recorded thunderstorm Spotify tracks.
- My hangover literally can’t even right now.
- My hangover fights the good fight.
- My hangover feels it is very compatible with all-you-can-drink mimosas and all-you-can-eat eggs benedict.
- My hangover did not even come close to winning the “Most Likely to Succeed” superlative.
- My hangover does not believe in mainstream conspiracy theories because it already knows that they are all almost definitely maybe true.
- My hangover is indecisive.
- My hangover dares Chinese buffets to kick it out of the restaurant after three hours, and it does not go down without a fight.
- My hangover does not take aspirin seriously. At all.
- My hangover does not like to wear pants.
- My hangover consistently produces the gnarliest morning breath.
- My hangover chugs Gatorade like it is an all-star athlete.
- This is my hangover. There are many like it, but this one is mine. My hangover is an unwelcome acquaintance. It is a sort of big part of my life, which makes me wonder if maybe I should stop drinking so much. I must master my hangover as I must master my life. My hangover, without me, is useless. Without my hangover, I am pretty OK, I guess. My hangover and I forget the rest of this speech.
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