Overcoming a hangover

Age increases pain, length, and symptoms.

In college I drank like a fish six nights a week and still made it to class... These days a couple bottles of wine has me nearly incapacitated the next day. My body aches, my head hurts, there is shooting pain behind my eye, waves of nausea. My hangovers used to lift around 3pm, then it was 4pm, now I find myself still dragging as late at 7pm. Nearing the edge of 30, not only are the hangovers worse, but it is less acceptable to call into work feigning sick. So I needed to upgrade my methods of coping.

(Yes, I probably should drink less, but that equates to less fun.)

For years, I've relied on a mix of the following four solutions to a hangover. They've been tested and are tried and true methods for coping:

1) Treat in morning w/ water and Advil liquid-gels (These work a crucial 18 minutes faster)
2) Treat at night w/ water and Advil liquid-gels
3) Lounge on couch watching TNT, sleeping intermittently
4) Fast greasy food

As I age, I find these four options are less and less successful at eliminating my pain. So I decided to try something new -- sweating it out at the gym.

I’ve always been incredible skeptical of “the gym” = “hangover relief”. Getting to the gym was torture; as I walking there I questioned my sanity. After 20 minutes on the elliptical, things began to change, my self-hatred to drinking too much the night before began to lift. There was a slight downturn around minute 30 when nausea set in. Around minute 36, as I was planning my escape route to the bathroom, the nausea lifted and I felt like a whole person, a person who didn’t drink 3.5 bottles of wine the evening before… I kept it up for 45 minutes – at which time I wimped out and stopped

This was hardly a back breaking workout; I covered half the ground of a my usualy workout, but I did it. And the next time I find myself with a hangover, I just might do it again.

Twice in 24 Hours

This past weekend I had a wedding in Boston. My original plan was to stay in on Friday night and get up early to drive a rental car to Boston on Saturday. In reality, I ended up going out on Friday The Nudist and stayed up way too late.

With less than two hours of sleep, my alarm went off. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to stay in bed so badly. The Nudist and I were perhaps too comfortable at the moment and I knew a hangover was the worst excuse in the world to miss my friend’s wedding. So I left him in my bed and took a cab to Chinatown – catching the 8am bus.

I slept the entire way to Boston (with one small McD’s stop for an egg & cheese). I arrived in Boston – gnarly, half asleep and wearing jeans. Heading straight to the chapel for the 1pm service, I had no choice but to change in the bathroom of South Station. Brushing my teeth in the sink and applying a full face of makeup in a bus terminal is something I can live without replicating. At least I planned ahead and packed perfectly – unlike this trip to Boston

Anyway it was an absolutely beautiful wedding, following by the longest reception ever. At 1:30am, I’m totally wasted and exhausted. Ahead of my lay the prospect of sleeping on a hotel couch or a bus back to NYC.

Before I knew it I was back in South Station. The terminal at that time of night was actually less frightening than I expected. Soon enough I was on 2:30am Fung Wah bus. It was the best decision ever – I arrived in NYC at 5:30am and still managed to fit in six more hours of sleep in my NYC bed.

Love the Fung Wah!

Friends Who Share Everything??

Last night over cocktails, a good friend who’s been keeping up on my dating shenanigans by way of my blog, mentioned that she’d like to meet The Nudist. Newly single, she’s ready to date again and after reading the profile I wrote for him, she thought as fellow artists - they would be a better fit than he and I.

Okay – this is an odd conversation to be having… At this point, the entire table has tuned into our conversation. Everyone had a suggestion for how one bridges the conversation with the guy.

-- “Make it seem like it is his idea to stop seeing you and start seeing her.”
-- “Tell him this weekend that you aren’t interested in him, but he should meet your friend”
-- “Plan a group outing where they can meet, so you can introduce them.”
-- “Set them up on a blind date, so you can’t interfere.”

Now wait, a second here… Why has everyone decided that my friend gets to meet this guy? At what point did I decide I wasn’t interested in him? What if I don’t feel like introducing them? Once I do, I’ll will not have the luxury of seeing him again because that would be weird. Two friends, one guy… I don’t share very well.

Her thoughts were that since I’m also seeing The Producer, I shouldn’t mind that they’ll be hanging out. I’m really not sure how I feel about this. There are things I like about The Nudist that I don’t like about The Producer. If I could mesh these two guys into one, I’d be the happiest gal on the LES.

So anyway, tonight I have tentative plans to hangout with The Nudist. We’ll see how much “liquid courage” I need to bridge this conversation. Who’s to say that he wouldn’t want to meet my friend… Maybe they would relate better to each other… Perhaps not introducing them is a greedy, selfish act on my part… She was really excited at the prospect of meeting him, I’d hate to disappoint her…

(Secretly, I hope he is still reading my blog, that way I can already consider this conversation over…)

Grounds for Dismissal

Had my first fight with The Producer last weekend. While sharing a cab with a couple guys (one of whom is dating my friend) he and his 30-something friend were giving the young-one girl advice. Mid-conversation, he mentioned having bagged an 18-year-old over the summer.

Word traveled quickly, and I learned of his conquest right before my rooftop party. Sickened at the thought that this 30-year-old guy slept with a teenager, I spent the better part of the afternoon discussing with my gals that this immoral behavior was grounds for dismissal.

He arrived at my rooftop with a couple friends and I greeted him with a cool reception. Talking with him and his friends, I casually eluded to knowing about the 18-year-old. It was dark, but I caught him off guard. As the evening wore on, I made enough references to the 18-year-old that he asked if I wanted him to leave. I responded with what I’d been repeating to him all night - “Eighteen? That’s just sick.”

At this point, he had enough of me not listening to his attempts at explaining the situation, and he pulled me to the side of the roof and kept repeating himself until I finally started listening.

"I met her inside a bar in Avalon. She told me she was 24. She used a fake ID to get past the notoriously tough bouncers and the bartenders. I had not idea until after the fact and I’m hardly proud of it.”

Alright, so the “hardly proud of it” line was a bit much, considering that he had mentioned the experience in a car full of guys. That sounds like bragging to me. However, the rest of his story seemed truthful enough, I had to drop it.

In all honesty, it worked out nicely, cause we’ve agreed that I’ll get over the accidental-18-year-old if he gets over this guy.

---------
I'm using this as a reminder that learning about someone new is a very long process. So in that vein, I am keeping my options open. Last night I met The Nudist for post-work cocktails, which led into a game of pool at another bar and more cocktails, which led into another bar and a 2am kiss at my doorway.

A gal needs options – right?

Glutton for Punishment

Things have been smooth in the boy department lately, so naturally it was time for me to commit emotional self-sabotage.

My ex is a groomsman in an upcoming wedding. Conveniently the couple created one of those darling “aren’t-you-happy-for-us” web sites to inform their family and friends of all their happy engaged moments. (Excuse me while I vomit.)

I was curious. If things are going well for me – what’s going on in his life? Scrolling through their photo albums, I was on edge. I just knew the next photo was going to be a shot of him with a fabulous new girlfriend. (Why am I putting myself through this anxiety?)

After six happy photo albums, nothing. No sign of a new girlfriend. Oddly, the whole process made me feel completely empty. Considering how heartbroken I was after we broke up, I can hardly believe that this was the guy…

It was quite cathartic, and I’m glad I snooped. I’ve never felt so far from my past and the disaster that was the relationship. I guess that’s what 365 days will bring you….

I've come a long way baby.... Read here chronicles of the whole messy breakup disaster:
Caught Man Fishing
I Miss You Abuse
Marriage Trainer

Against Drinking and Shopping

WARNING: What you are about to read is a careless account of spending; under no circumstances should the following be attempted by an untrained professional.

On Sunday Avenue Elle and I met on the Upper West Side at the seemingly innocent hour of 4pm. Having spent the earlier part of the day shopping on the LES and Soho, I figured my desire to blow my paycheck on fall fashion was satiated. After hitting up a 70% off sale at La Di Da, I already owned

- Silver/Black sheer, tie collar shirt
- Black tank (to be worn under the above)
- Gold clutch purse
- Black clutch purse
- Lorac eye shadow

After a pitcher of mango margaritas, we decided window shopping on Columbus Avenue was a wise way to spend the few hours before Entourage. Once Avenue Elle fielded an unexpected call from Frenchie we were a dangerous mix of buzzed and giddy. The window shopping excursion morphed into a bank breaking outing. My three biggest purchases of the day…

- Red Trench Coat
- Plaid pencil skirt with high waist
- Blue Mini Sweater Dress

Oh the pain. Once the rent check clears, I’ll have $500 to my name for the next 10 days. It looks like I’ll be taking the bus to Boston this weekend.

Almost like living in a trailor park...

There are certain expectations one has for their home. One of those is running water. Last night, after post-work pitchers of sangria at Park, followed by beers and cigs on the rooftop at the Delancey, I arrived home to find no running water. No warning, just a note which miraculously appeared on the front door between 8pm and 1am. At this point, I immediately regretted smoking all those cigs, cause there was no way to brush my teeth, or evade the looming hangover. (My usually evening remedy is 3 Advil chased with a tall pint of water).

This morning, I awoke at 5:30am to a splintering headache and swamp breath. Since the water was supposed to turn back on at 5am, half asleep I brushed my teeth and chased 3 Advil with a big glass of water.

At 8am after seeing the state of the brackish, rusted water coming from my pipes, I am waiting for the inevitable stomach cramps from drinking unclean water. I should have remembered to let the water run, flushing the pipes clean, but again it was dark - I was half asleep and I'm sure to completely regret it...

Want culture? Join a wine club

Always needing an excuse to drink, I joined a wine club. Each month Discovery Wines delivers three bottles of red wine to my home. This is not about me being too lazy to walk to the wine store and chose my own wine. I have legitimate goals for this experiment in alcohol.

1) It would be nice to understand a wine list beyond - Melbec and Nero d’Avlo.

2) I’ve always wanted to amass a small wine collection. This will make me the ultimate impromptu hostess…

Partaking in this culture experiment, I face a unique set of dangers. I must remind myself that the purpose of this experiment is not to drinks all 3 bottles in one sitting. See lesson learned)

For August, I received three pinot noirs. All delicious, except for the two bad corks. (Okay, at least one bottle had a bad cork – the other bottle, it is highly probable that I was too tanked to open it correctly.)

Anyway, the silver lining is that after mentioning the bad corks to the wine store, they sent me home with two bottles atop the two I had just purchased.

Not to shabby… My collection is off to a magnificent start already.

For Your Information..

I have been tagged by Karina XOXO to reveal my inner secrets, or weird things about myself. Since she’s my alter ego living in Australia, I have no choice but to oblige. Rather than revealing inner secrets (I'm still a little gun shy since being outed), I'll share 10 tid-bits of Downtown wierdness, which I prefer to re-classify as charming, unique and interesting bits:

1. All heels, all the time. Whether hoofing it through London or catching a 5am flight to Las Vegas, I’m always wearing heels. Always. Most people think this is because I have issue with being 5’3 (which is partially true). In actuality, all my clothing has been tailored to accommodate skyscraper heels. When I go without, the cuffs of my pants would bunch and drag on the ground. Not chic.
2. My mom was my 3rd grade teacher
3. I’ve dated identical twins
4. I should wear one contact lens. The vision in my right eye is terrible. I couldn’t pass the first two lines on the vision chart, but my opthamologist won’t prescribe one contact. She claims my left eye and brain adjust to the difference, which sounds slightly insane to me…
5. I’ve never ridden a horse. Although if asked straight out, I will say I have
6. My job contibutes to women’s self-esteem and body issues, yet I keep at it because I love my paycheck
7. When reading, I skim. Magazines, emails, blogs… Especially books. I’ll skim entire chapters. Example in Gone with the Wind the chapters discussing the historial significance of the Civil War and the battles being fought, never read them
8. I’ve never watched any of the Star Wars movies and don’t plan to
9. When driving, I listen to the radio on ‘scan’. How else can you ensure you don’t miss your favorite song playing on another station?
10. Unsure what order mouthwash, brushing and flossing should go in, I repeat the process
    

So there it is, all my quirks and eccentricities on display.

30

I adore my girlfriends. I am incredibly lucky to have a network of fun-loving, well-traveled, down-to-earth, beautiful, altruistic, do-anything-for-you friends. But I’ve had enough of their obsessing about turning 30.

My friend, whose 28th birthday is next week, refused to plan a birthday get-together because she was too depressed about turning 30. That’s two years away -- What a terrible excuse to not throw a party!! And as she bemoans the loss of her youth, she forgets I turned 28 earlier this summer….

Another friend, affectionately dubbed “Cougar” recently turned 30. It is impossible to have a conversation with her when she doesn’t reference her age. Up until a couple weeks ago, she would only date older men who have marriage potential, or their “light on”. These were some real characters, none of whom (in my opinion) possessed any long-term potential, short of being over 30. Appropriately enough, she’s now seeing a 25-year-old, who is nicer to her than any of those criteria-meeting older men.

Someone recently mentioned to me that although our bodies go through the physical act of aging, our perception of our “self” doesn’t age as quickly. Which explains why ‘30 is the new 20’ or ‘40 is the new 30’…

Perhaps, next year I'll change my tune about 30, but right now, I'm looking forward to it. My new mantra is that late 20's and early 30's are the greatest years of your life.

Keys to the Vault

Elaine: I'll put it in the vault.
Jerry: No good. Too many people know the combination.
Elaine: What combination?
Jerry: *mimes drinking schnapps*



Classic! During last night’s date with the Producer, three bottles of wine deep, the vault was open. My girlfriends have been prodding me to be honest with this guy. Tell him what I think and stop playing games. Filled with liquid courage I started talking and no one was there to stop me. I sputtered on about how I’m seeing fewer guys that I was when we first met, so he should stop making wise cracks about Mr. Wednesday and Mr. Tuesday… Then I mentioned it would be nice to see him more than once a week… I told him my friends think he is “pretty”… It was endless.

Shoot me now!

As for being outed. This is one of those times, it isn’t all about me. (I know – shocker.) Being gossiped about is never fun. Personally, I don’t care so much about being outed – because it’s my blog and I’m the one putting it out there. But I’ve been thinking, who’s to say that the boys I blog about feel the same way? Is it an invasion of someone’s privacy to share stories about them… So yea, I feel really bad about it, and I’ll be much more careful in the future to not disclose personal information. I need to protect my sources.

Outed

Shame on you (yeah, you) for giving up a gal's anonymity.

Yeah, it was my fault for including personal details, and it was only a matter of time before someone recognized one of my posts, but please, what fun is blogging about the salacious details of my personal life if you are going to show your friend what I wrote about him.

He texted me this morning. Once I got over feel queasy, I'm now permanently blushing... I don't think I've ever been embarrassed.

Perhaps it is time to think up a couple entries that have less to do with boys and more to do with the other interests in my life... but what's the fun in that?!?!

NYC Guy Profile #5 - The Nudist

Age: 33
Height: 5'9"
Build: Medium, Slim
Eyes: Blue Green
Hair: Blond
Profession: Computer Programmer
Residence: LES

Meeting Synopsis: At Friday happy hour I start talking to a friend-of-a-friend who lives on my street, just a block and a half away from my apartment and has the most shocking blue-green eyes I’ve ever seen. We quickly start connecting about our semi-hippie upbringings. Me:18 years in Vermont. Him:18 years with parents who grow pot. Then he drops the bomb “My family spent our summers at nudist camp.” (B-what??) After picking my jaw off the floor, we discuss his personal perspective on the experience. As the conversationg goes on, I slowly get hooked on his whole gentle soul thing. I start to apprecaite the hippie-esque mannerism (acceptance of others, calm reassuring manner) add to that his two cats named 'puppy' and 'barbeque' and I’m hooked.

Relationship Details: Per usual, when the bars close at 4am everyone heads back to my apartment. Around 5:30am people begin disappearing: one couple heads up to the roof to hook up, another dials a car service, and my roommate (god love her) passes out on the living room rug. The Nudist and I hook up on my couch ‘til about 6:30am when we decide my bed would be much more comfortable. Disclosure: We may have slept in the same space but we did not “sleep together”.

Next morning, we have brunch after which he insists we walk the long way home. We bum around the LES semi-window shopping/running errands for a couple hours. It was all so real. He walked me home around 4pm mentioning that he’d like to see me again. So sweet. We exchange numbers and go our separate ways.

Saturday evening, as I am serving pina coladas on my rooftop, I decide to extend an invite to him. Since the rooftop crew had just kicked the bottle of Dominican Rum, the Nudist and I agreed to meet at a bar between our respective houses. Since he was already at a friend’s birthday across town, he met me at the bar around 1am. Slowly my friends started petering out - seemed everyone had paid dearly for the night before. The Nudist and I hang at the bar until 2:45am, at which time we decide late night eats are in order. After introducing him to Dash Dogs, he asks to introduce me to his favorite bartender… Of course. Another drink later, we leave the bar. Convinently the bar is located beneath his apartment. At his place, I learn that the Nudist is also a sculpture artist. He has all these crazy contraptions and projects underway… Another night, with more sleeping in the same space without “sleeping together”.

Deal Breaker: None at the current moment. He’s been added to the current rotation. Since he lives on my street and is so cute about not pressuring me to sleep together, he has secured a spot in the rotation.

Previous NYC Guy Profiles
#1 - The Older Man
#2 – The Wedding Guest
#3 – But Aren’t You Gay Guy
#4 - The Skier

Don't Get Lost in the Game

There are so many reasons that I adore Avenue Elle. Last night she did not disappoint. As we're partying it up for my friend's 30th, I find myself in a room with three flirtations (two of them notches on my bedpost). Avenue Elle turns to me with the most serious face and starts pointing at me and utters a phrase that pretty much summarizes my life for the month of July...

"Don't get lost in the game"

She is so right. This past month, I've been playing guys 2, 3 at a time... It sure has been fun. Along the way, I've come to realize that young guys (while fun) invest to heavily in the one-night stand.

Case and Point: Last night leaving the bar with Producer we walked past the architect. I didn't think much of it, but he made some snide remarks in the bar and was shooting the Producer nasty looks all night.

Second Point: My roommate hooked up with a Young Republican last weekend. Last night, as she went home with someone else, she recieves the following text: "fuck you...you could have at least been straight up with me before I wasted two hours of sleep."

Come on boys. Don't take it all so personally, this is a game... Your gotta play offense and well as defense. Don't forget defense.

Braless

Alright, one final post about the heat.

I realized today that I have not worn a bra to the office in the past 10 working days. That's so inappropriate. Thank goodness for B cups, sundresses and a fairly liberal office space, cause I don't think I would have made it through this week.

Starbucks Loves Us

Call me a hypocrite, but after my Independent Coffee Shop guy disappeared unexpectedly. (Rumor around the coffee shop was that he was fired.) Disillusioned, I started frequenting Starbucks. With the NYC heat wave (106 degrees today) I'm officially an iced coffee junky hooked on Starbuck's smack.

I'm quite particular about my iced coffee. Large iced coffee, with a splash of skim, a one packet of Splenda floating atop (not stirred in). I refuse to use that foolish Starbucks language to order my coffee...

My reward for making the switch from my independent Coffee Shop, is learning that tomorrow (August 3) Starbucks is giving away free iced coffee from 1-3pm.

You know where to find me tomorrow at that time.

Game. Set. Match.

I'm pretty adept at playing the NYC singles game. I can line up a week's worth of dates, juggling their calls and emails, leading each guy to believe he is the only one. These guys are usually easily manipulated and I'm always the one with the upper hand, ensuring that I'm not overly invested. (Past case histories: the Cute Architect, the Secret Boy, Irish)

Well, I've just met my match. This new guy, Producer, is bad news. Bad news because he knows the game. Adding to the mess of playing against a formidable opponent is that I'm much too attracted to him to think clearly about my game plan. Damn, him!

After having met over the 4th of July weekend, we've been seeing each other regularly. He convinently lives in my neighborhood, so the morning walk of shame isn't that shameful. On days that we don't see each other he emails, texts or calls...

Last week, after our date night changed from Tuesday to Thursday, he began teasing me saying things like, "I've been upgraded to Thursday-night-guy, but I'm still not Sunday-night-guy."

Again we have plans for Thursday of this week. I can't believe it is only Tuesday. I already have a new dress. I've scheduled the bikini wax and have begun a crash diet of iced coffee, Pria bars and cigarettes...

Honestly, the real kicker is that he has boyfriend-potential. All those other guys were just "play things" to keep my social calendar filled. I can't believe I just wrote those words... Now, I've officially set myself up for a future post to be titled Producer 1 : Downtown 0.

Just to add a little spice to Thursday's encounter. It is the 30th birthday of the gal who introduced us. Unfortunately for me, there are going to be 2 other "play things" in attendance. Let the drama begin! I promise full-disclosure in Friday's post.