Look at Sid. He is really one of the good ones, and effortlessly mixes a killer Brandy Alexander, to boot. Equal parts brandy, creme de cacao and heavy cream, and don't be stingy with the nutmeg. Let's all drink heavy cream, and be merry.
Company Tests Pill for Alcoholics - The Daily Beast
Ok. sure. let's just put all the hardworking brewery owners and barmaids and rehab clinic owners and hangover nurses and liver specialists and paddy wagon drivers and MADD employees in the poor house. thanks science. you've done it again.
if you do the patented hangovernurse dance of the christmas angels correctly, Santa will hop out of a nearby taxi and give you a hug. His breath is going to smell very strongly of malt liquor, but give the guy a break, ok???
let's make the Krampus part of our north american holiday tradition. is there anything our children deserve more than a good scaring, and possibly a whipping with chains?
"What I am saying does not mean that there will henceforth be no form in art. It only means that there will be a new form, and that this form will be of such a type that it admits the chaos and does not try to say that the chaos is really something else. . . To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now."
-S. Beckett, from "Beckett at the Madeleine," in The Columbia University Forum, Summer 1961
Angry at the world? take a deep breath, and whip up a nice pot of soup for yourself. this special hangover nurse concoction goes by the name of Italian Divorce.
Step 1: have at least 3 cocktails.
2. teeter on over to the grocery store. don't bother with a list; you'll remember everything.
3. arrive home somehow, you won't remember how. find the largest pot available and fill it with water. set it to boil. has a massive pot of boiling water ever not come in handy?
4. start chopping whatever it is that is in those shopping bags. throw everything in the pot. add something from each condiment bottle in the fridge; it'll all come out in the wash.
5. cue loud opera music.
6. pass out, probably; just be sure to leave the soup cooking on the stove so that your loved ones can partake whenever they get home that evening, if indeed they do. Who the hell knows with people anymore.
The nurse loathes eating at a table in a restaurant. Every single element of public mastication is dramatically improved when one makes the prudent decision to eat at the bar. Consider it: the bartender is pleased to be on the receiving end of a healthier tip. There is no awkward interaction with unhappy waitstaff. One needn't face one's companion directly, thereby mitigating social discomfort. Most importantly, however? One is nearest to what is, and always shall be, dearest.