The Science of Hangovers – Debunking Common Myths

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So, you wanna be a baller, huh? You love to pound shot after shot, cocktail after cocktail in an effort to show just about all your bros (and often hos) that absolutely no one can possibly upstage you during an evening out, by drinking you under the table. How well you “handle yo’ licka,” is a skill which must be conveyed to all your homies at any cost. Among several problems with such an excessive endeavor, including (1) rapidly draining the evening’s budget and tapping into the Rent Reserve (2) funnin’ strangers boobs without a formal invite and (3) eating a fist full of teeth and getting tossed on your bum, perhaps the most challenging may be the dreaded Hangover.

What in tarnation causes a hangover anyway? How do you avoid it? Most importantly, how do you get rid of it once you have it?

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So You Wanna Be a Douchebag?

Insider Tips to the Art of Douchebaggery

Part I

I work in a place that attracts douchebags like water to a drain.  Somebody has to.  When you’re a douchebag, you either own it and drive a Corvette and go out night after night, hitting on other guys’ girlfriends and hi-fiving strangers after saying things like, “That’s what I’m talkin’ about, bitch!” for the rest of your life, or you go to great lengths to chastise douchebags and relentlessly piss and moan about how they’re everywhere and how you can’t stand the sight of them, until eventually you jump into your Corvette and go out night after night, hitting on other guys’ girlfriends and hi-fiving strangers after saying things like, “That’s what I’m talking about, bitch!” for the rest of your life.

Click through for full article – So You Wanna Be a Douchebag?

Click through for Part II – So You Wanna Be a Douchebag Park Deux-che

I admit it.  I’m anal.  I suffer from OCD about many things but particularly, bartending. That said, I’m often doing my community service by frequenting bars/restaurants in a so far useless search for a really good and frothy Margarita, old-school edible Old Fashioned, the way I’d make them, or the never achievable perfect meal.  I never communicate as much to my servers, but I’m constantly and unavoidably evaluating the entire experience and taking mental notes on environment, quality, service, delays, cleanliness, order, music, lighting, attitude, and taste.  Mostly, I find idiots – surely that’s expected in this dump of Bloombergistania.

I also troll other bartenders’ blogs.  Most are temporary endeavors of a few month’s – a whim or fancy that’s quickly abandoned and left for the Blogger.coms, Tumblrs and WordPresses to relegate to archives of yore.  People just run out of time, ideas, experiences, or just plain change careers eventually abandoning their soapboxes.  Some are quality and some are not.  But every once in a while, you come across someone who speaks exactly your language, conveys your thoughts, makes you shriek with laughter, and shares your experiences and wisdom precisely.  

I thus present to you Dave, creator of – a California bartender with a lot of the same beliefs about life behind the bar as I have.  For instance, the two posts above on professional and omnipresent Douchebag, a very close relative of the slightly rarer and younger Bro. In fact, you can often use the terms interchangeably.  Bros typically graduate and age into Douchebag-dom.  I digress.  Anyway, Dave’s tales are beyond entertaining, sharply written, relevant, and most importantly, wicked accurate.  Kudos Dave.