If, like most responsible adults, you don't usually spend your Sunday nights indulging in fried food and fermented beverages, Super Bowl Sunday can be a festive treat.  Unfortunately for the untrained body, reveling in this spectacle of violence can leave you violently ill upon waking up...just 5 hours later.  Here are some tips on how to make it through the workday on Super Bowl Monday:

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Remember when you vowed to take a shot of bleu cheese every time Peyton Manning shouted "Omaha!" in the 4th quarter?  Well, turns out there were 14 audibles at the line, and right about now, there are 6,000 calories of warm cheesy jizz sitting in your rectum.  Remember that this is your fault.  This is why your ex made you promise to stop drinking so much.  Use your self-loathing to help clench your cheeks together on your 20-minute subway ride, and maybe you can delay the eruption of gorgonzola lava.

 

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You spent the halftime show screaming that Bruno Mars was like a gay Michael Jackson, then defending your position by shouting that Michael Jackson wasn't gay, but a pedophile, and that everyone else at the party was the bigot.  Now you're hoarse, and your buddy's girlfriend hates you.  Stock up on throat lozenges, or try gargling some balls.  Don't knock it till you try it!

 

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If they have kids, they'll resent you for still having fun.  If they don't, they'll resent you for not inviting them.  If you're the office tool and you run your mouth like this anyway, feel free to proceed.

 

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You're not used to so much rabble-rousing on a work night.  Once you've decimated the men's room, get yourself a big cup of coffee and drink until you feel like your heart's going to explode.

 

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You're not an offensive coordinator.  You're a digital media analyst, and you're a jackass.  Nobody wants to hear your breakdown of the Seahawks Cover 3.  Just say generic things like, "wow, what a game," and leave the analysis to other imbeciles like Troy Aikman.

 

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It's not like you do much, anyway.  When your boss isn't looking, you're online reading listicles.  So wrap up your meaningless exercises at 4:45, and swiftly exit the building.  Take a page from Chris Berman's book and be grateful you get paid for showing up hung over.

 

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No matter how healthy you usually are, one thing's for sure: you feel like garbage.  Your blood is the consistency of ranch dressing.  Your runs are more explosive than Marshawn Lynch off left tackle.  Your anal sphincter is as shaken up as Wes Welker's brain.  So make a choice: go on a juice cleanse and get your body back in order, or drown your pain in booze and weed.  Either option is better than your miserable Monday.