Drinking! Fun in your twenties, violent in your 30s.
My hangovers are violently inconsistent. The lightheaded heavy-headed foggy feeling of head and brain accompanied by waves of nausea, a throbbing dehydration created headache, and bowel looseness that can no longer be predicted or planned.
When I was younger the manifestation of the afore mentioned symptoms to their fullest extent would only follow the wildest of nights.
Oh you dirty devil but also yes! yes! yes!
A little wine to wash it all down?
Don’t mind if I do. Just a glass, and definitely no more than four… As a well brought up Nigerian with exceptional home training I am the very picture of moderation.
Some whisky? I know you like a good scotch.
Ah! You’re too good to me kind sir or madam… and at this point I can hardly tell. Are you a sir, or a madam, or an x? I’m more than a little bit drunk but I’m a strict observer of preferred pronouns. What! You’re a Penguin? That’s your gender? That’s perfectly alright too. But about that whisky dearest Penguin. It’s a single malt you sexy flightless bird? Yes! Fill the tumbler up… a bit more… that’s perfect. A nice tipple before beer - never better.
Pe-heng-win! Panging baby!
Pe-heng-win! Boozy baby!
Claws for toes, and arms with no fingers,
Bring this man some proper liquor!
We’ve got a good vodka. It’s a Beluga.
Then Bugati me silly old chap. Bugati me all the way to Russia.
Let’s have a toast to youth and its divine beauty. I felt immortal, infinite, inexorable. I’m no longer sure what inexorable means. I first encountered the word when I was 10… in the Chronicles of Narnia. A quick look in my dictionary says it means “impossible to stop or prevent.” It is a very good word. Very well used too. I’ll give myself a pat on the back for writing ignorantly but brilliantly. This is the very definition of talent.
These days I am not so fortunate. If I did the above in one night, I would probably die. By some magic of ageing I am an even cheaper drunk now than I was when I was 20. It doesn’t take much to get me buzzed, and it takes even less to give me the hangover of death:
Heavy headed light headed fogginess of head and brain. Am I coming? Am I going? Am I dying?
Surging waves of unproductive nausea. Retching without vomiting is like slavery or an unpaid internship or an entry level salary in most Nigerian companies - immoral. All that work and no pay? Rude.
The throbbing dehydration created headache. Oh dear Lord why did you not give me the head for doctorhood and the hands of a surgeon? I need a bag of drip! No! I need 2 bags of drip.
Here’s a man that wants to die,
He’s been drinking way too hard!
Was it worth it?
Did he enjoy it?
He don’t know.
Bowel looseness… When I was younger and wilder and handsomer, I didn’t mind sharing the details of my toiletry exertions, excursions and escapades with the world, but now I’m 30. Some things, like my anus, are best left undiscussed.
The problem is I can no longer be sure of the amount of alcohol that will induce the above. Some times it’s a little, and at other times it’s a fair amount, but whatever it is, it is certainly less than it took at 25.