Hangovers follow me through life like some sort of hell-bent stalker planning my inevitable and painfully slow destruction. They are a constant weekend occurrence, and genuinely can be functionally explained as the bane of my existence, however are hangovers really that bad a thing?
Now I know the average young scholarly minded University prepster is scratching his head perplexed, "what the devil is a hangover?" Well Johnny B. Study, I'll tell you what a hangover is, it is quite simply [insert your favorite religious deity or deities] way of saying he loves you. I've come to this conclusion not through years of theological study or thorough laborious research in the world of metaphysics but rather through an intrinsic deduction process I like to call self reflective research, (or in layman's "thinking while on drugs"). You see when you wake up after a night that could best be described simply in the word "Whiskey," and you feel like Thor, god of thunder, is wailing on you're face with his hammer of dwarf forged Steele you get a friendly reminder that Alcohol, though fun, is not a lifestyle.* Quickly, one is forced into a period of self reflection as the blurred images of the night before come streaming in like light through shattered glass.
Beer bong vodka breasts cheetah- Rum
However, this self reflection is, of course, immediately abated by the realization that in the period of ten unconscious, possibly naked, hours your mouth and throat have turned into a Mad Max like wasteland. You'll grab a glass of water and then spend the rest of the day lying on your couch as Bob Barker stares out from your TV set; mocking you as he speaks into his disturbingly outdated and phallic microphone. You'll gaze contemptuously at the contestants of the Price is Right hating them and their wild enthusiasm, thinking madly that just an evening before you were as happy as that outlandish young marine who, like some kind of stupid-fucking clown, guessed $100 for the furniture set (I mean c'mon $100, that shit came with an ottoman, douche bag).
Now, I know you're thinking how does the blind hatred of Price is Right contestants translate into the J-man throwing down some of that fine beardy love? Quite simply, without hangovers would we ever stop drinking? Drinking, though fun and conducive of a good time, generally only gets in the way of doing actual "important" things. To put it in a comparative vein, Hangovers are to drinking what chaffing is to fifteen hours of non-stop sex before an Anthro final (that's right ladies, fifteen hours I'm winking right now). That is to say it's a reminder that the amusement of the night before came with a consequence; in the case of a hangover this consequence is the inability to think without feeling tremendous pain, in the case of chaffing it is the inability to masturbate without bleeding. In summation, a hangover is the natural way in which we are forced to realize the harsh reality of our own lives, forcing us into a fit of tears followed by a manic period of intense and unabated work. Without hangovers we'd all be alcoholics (and not the fun Churchilly kind).
* This statement can be disregarded by all hobos who are reading the article
1 I realize that hobos can't read LAWLZ