hang·o·ver
ˈhaNGˌōvər/
noun: a severe headache or other after effects caused by drinking an excess of alcohol.
Oh Merriam-Webster, you naive word bible you, defining the hangover vaguely, clinically, as though the symptoms were so simple. Bless your heart. “A severe headache or other after effects...” I guess that’s a start. Typically though, my post-party Sundays involve more bedridden sweats, writhing and swampy beer farts that could K.O. a sumo wrestler. And, severe headache? More like cranium radio 105.7 FM tuned in to the sounds of ‘98 AOL dial-up all afternoon.
So we’re setting the matter straight. The human condition sucks. We love drinking and drinking hates us. Thankfully, at the grips of these minor deaths we can find salvation in the form of a 12-egg omelette or a bottomless Bloody Mary. That said, we felt the cramming of eggs into your egg-hole seemed a rather rudimentary cure, so here at Revue we’ve compiled some creative local remedies to save you from your suffering. Hangoverees unite!
What happened here? The five-pronged beer bong is splayed out in the kitchen like an amputated octopus, a film of stale booze coats the tables and there are lit-er-al-ly 99 bottles of beer on the floor. Your body needs a salad, but there’s not a sanitary inch of counter to cut a tomato. Don’t fret. There’s still a way to put something good in you. Sip Organic Juice Bar (423 Norwood Ave. SE, Grand Rapids) blends a garden’s healthiest produce into a variety of smoothies, providing a nutritional hangover alternative to a McGriddle. Their Over the Rainbow, for example, combines nut milk, kale, celery, banana, dates, almond butter and hemp protein into a hippie’s wet dream. If you’re feeling particularly militant about cleansing your gut rot, Sip offers three and five-day detox programs where they prepare three-square superfood meals for pickup up each morning. Upon completion, participants usually feel revitalized, empowered, never wanting to touch a G&T again. Well...wait. Did someone say $3 Yo Momma bombs at Mulligan’s this Thursday?
You’ve likely used coffee in the past as anti-hangover defibrillation, but we’ve devised a sinister caffeine instrument. Here’s Revue’s “Wet Brain Reanimator.” First things first, haul your bum to Kzoo’s Water Street Coffee Roaster (610 Willard St., Kalamazoo) and prepare to empty your wallet to blast away the brown bottle flu. Here’s the skinny: dump three shots of house espresso into a mug of their Midnight Oil blend and then glug-a-lug. The concoction should resemble fossil fuel and taste just as gluey, but power through the ooze captain. There’s enough caffeine concentrated in this drink to arouse a pack of starchy lumberjacks.
If two tacos are better than one taco, then 22 tacos must be the best. The Birch Lodge (732 Michigan St. NE, Grand Rapids), preaches this sermon so passionately that its disciples have dubbed their Sunday taco bar “Church at the Birch.” And truly, after an evening of entirely too much tequila, what sounds more holy than endless tortillas stuffed with ground beef, queso cheese and fresh greens? Oh, how about the fact that it’s FREE? These guys know how to evangelize. While gorging your drained body on tacos, fix up a bloody from the self-serve bar or ask your friendly waiter to bring you a mimosa. She’ll look upon you with her most empathetic gaze. Somehow, she knows everything you’ve been through last night, but she’d never judge. For on Sundays at the lodge, everyone is equal and everyone is hungover. “Here’s your mimosa, pal. The pain will all be over soon.”
At the time, sure, I bet you thought popping those 10 shots of apple pucker from your girl’s belly button embodied the idea of a romantic evening in, but now you’re up, it’s 7 a.m., you’ve got a mad case of the shakes, no hope of sleeping in and you’re picking out pieces of navel lint from your teeth. A harsh start, yes, but your friend yoga is here for you. For 20 bones you can lurk in and join a session at Funky Buddha Yoga Hothouse (Eastown, Forest Hills, and Holland locations). Your aching limbs will coo with post-coital bliss during the Funky Buddha Slow Flow, which focuses mainly on just sitting in a hot room instead of those bats**t pretzel poses you see in Kama Sutra handbooks. Know this though: at 95 degrees, you will sweat. Profusely. We suggest bringing a canteen to collect your drippings. Chances are there will be enough alcohol content in your perspiration to pour your friends a round of homemade Funky Buddha Sweat Shots at next weekend’s party.
Excellent work, reader! If instructions were followed according to plan your hangover should have disappeared entirely! (Possible side effects may include heart palpitations, bladder explosions, and feeling like God.)
