best and worst: pre-made hangover cures

THE BEST

Amy's cheese enchiladas 

+ purple-flavored Gatorade

If your dad was anything like my dad, he definitely had a stockpile of questionable frozen food, mostly those ten-for-ten-dollars Hungry Man dinners and perhaps a stash of "Mexican" dishes, including those oddly brownish enchiladas with the super-gooey cheese that you had to scrape off the sides of the wax-paper container with your fork. 

But here's the real secret: If you were anything like me, you looked forward to the days when Dad was responsible for lunch and he would dig the enchiladas out of the freezer and shove them in the microwave. You knew Mom would hate it that he was feeding you that crap, and really, that was part of the fun, like a weird junk food alliance forged between the two of you. 

Today I can no longer justify eating the frozen enchiladas of my youth, but that hasn't satiated the craving, especially after a night of boozing. Fortunately, Amy's cheese enchiladas exist. They're supposedly "organic," or at least as organic as frozen food can be, and they have the same brown sauce, puddles of grease and gooey cheese as the ones I remember from childhood. 

Pair the enchiladas with purple-flavored Gatorade (because sports-drink flavors defy all description except their respective colors) and two Tylenol, and you'll be on your way out of bed in no time. Because even though Eugene Mirman's way of saying "thank you" is to get drunk and not go to work, in most of our cases it will not express gratitude; it will just get us fired.

THE WORST

Simply Asia spicy kung pao noodle bowl

+ milk

Make no mistake about the Simply Asia noodle bowls: Despite the slick packaging featuring photographs of yummy-looking, restaurant-quality noodles garnished with shit like cilantro and orange slices, that shit is nothing but dressed-up Ramen. Seriously, imagine a homeless guy putting on a brand-new shirt from, like, the Gap but not taking the time to shave his beard, comb his hair, brush his teeth, put down the bottle of Old Crow, etc., and you will have an idea of what the Simply Asia brand is all about.

And it wouldn't even be that bad -- because let's face it, there's a time and place for Ramen (it's called "college") -- if it weren't 90 percent sodium. Think about it: You're hungover. You're already dehydrated. You need something that's gonna fill your stomach and distract your body from the fact that you spent all of last night poisoning it, not sap your remaining moisture, which is your lifeblood and the only thing preventing your brain from banging against the sides of your skull like the dried-out husk it has become.

Pair this bowl of nasty with a glass of milk (yes, I've actually made this mistake) and you'll find your innards twisting in weird, violent ways, and then you'll find yourself hugging the toilet and begging it to stop. I didn't puke, but that's only because I have an iron stomach and could probably eat a live iguana without puking. But you don't have to take my word for it...

opening my mouth and removing all doubt

Last night instead of dinner I decided to buy wine and colored pencils. If you assumed I was a total dork before, the following booze-fueled illustrations should confirm your suspicions.

1. In the bathroom of my new apartment, you can hear EVERYTHING. Not exaggerating – entire conversations (and other stuff) that occur in the bathrooms of my upstairs and downstairs neighbors are mine to behold, even the upstairs chick imitating her cat’s good morning meows and guffawing at sitcoms and the downstairs dude singing “Sweet Caroline.” Sometimes, however, when I’m in the bathroom and they’re, say, in the living room, the conversations are audible but muffled, leaving me to ponder weird, loose interpretations such as, “Granny Smith’s in the foyer.”

2. Last night I went to pilates, and I’ve been doing it for at least six goddamn months (granted, not religiously), and this was the first night it actually clicked. Afterward I was so high I didn’t want to do shit except chug a protein shake, buy some colored pencils, drink wine and draw crap. And it took me a delightful 20-minute car ride to arrive at the conclusion that these were the absolutely perfect evening plans. So here’s the journey I imagine my endorphins took:

3. Don’t get me wrong, I fucking love Harry Potter. But, um, they kind of cut off the series before the juiciest years of his life (and then awkwardly fast-forwarded to after them), and left out his stranger-fucking, jungle-juice-chugging college years. (I mean, come on, butter beer? That can't be as good as it gets in the wizarding world.) So, here’s a little preview of the book written about Harry when he went to college as an exchange student at Mizzou:

4. There’s not much to say about food anymore. And that is sad, because I love food, especially cheese, Indian food and hot shit that punishes my face. But lately I haven’t felt much like eating anything, for the reason this helpful diagram will illustrate:

5. Okay, so the sun morphed into a giant, stoned Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, and then it penetrated my brain and shot its rays of forgiveness* down onto everyone who needed or deserved them:

6. And in conclusion, I generally find rituals of personal hygiene pretty boring. With the exception of oral hygiene, which is the absolute fucking coolest. If I could brush my teeth and floss 10 times a day, I probably would.**

 *I am embarrassed to admit that I recently watched the romantic comedy “Eat, Pray, Love” starring Julia Roberts and that it made me cry. I generally dislike romantic comedies or any movie that comes out of the gate with the intention of manipulating me, but this quote really did it for me: "So miss him. Send him some love and light every time you think about him, and then drop it."

** I don't really pee in the bathtub, because that is disgusting.