The only cure for a real hangover is death.

His head was pounding and his vision skewed in some way and he was vaguely amazed at being alive and not sure that it was worth it.

Charity shook her head, struggling to get back into the flow of Lady Margaret's crisply worded presentation. Brandy brought sleep, and a temporary escape from the ache of a broken heart. But in the morning came gritty eyes, a furry tongue, and a pounding headache that made a foolish girl wince and rub her temples whenever her coolly perfect boss was looking the other way.

I will never, ever drink whiskey again. From now on, it's strictly sherry.

Oh man sometimes I wake up feel like a cat runover.Are you familiar with the stoical aspects of hard drinking, of heavy drinking? Oh it's heavy. Oh it's hard. It isn't easy. Jesus, I never meant me any harm. All I wanted was a good time.

He dozed off, into a dreamless oblivion, for what seemed like seconds but was in fact hours, and awoke hungover, the inner surface of his skull pulsing like a single, giant nerve being chewed by some ruminant animal.