Stage: 1: Why Is The Sun Inside Of My Face?
Waking up from a hangover is a lot like being a retarded person at a Fourth of July parade; you’re unimaginably sweaty, confused, and you inexplicably smell like pudding. But that's the least of your problems because Mr. Sun's life-sustaining rays are burning holes in your eyes and turning your headache into a head-searing face explosion. When you’re hungover, think of the Sun as a male porn star. As soon as comes on to your face, you realize that you've probably made some bad life choices recently.
Stage 2: Hey Mr. Toilet, Should I Puke, Or Shit In You?
No matter what you end up doing in the bathroom, know this; whatever is coming out of your body is going to look like something a group of teenagers in an 80s movie find in the woods right before they’re killed. Your two options are diarrhea and puking, which means you now understand what it's like to be Brad Childress on a Sunday morning trying to decide who’s going to play quarterback for the Minnesota Vikings.
Stage 3: I Bet I’ll Feel Better If I Try To Shower And Masturbate
The only time a man says to himself, “I don’t think masturbating will make me feel better” is in the thirty seconds after he masturbated. And as far as the soothing scale goes, a hot shower falls somewhere between “Morgan Freeman’s voice” and “the first time you see someone with a smaller penis than you.” In theory, both of these are a forimidable force against the brutal pain you are feeling right now. Sadly, you already do both of these every day, so they have no real effect on your hangover.
Stage 4: Hey, I Just Um, Wanted To Apologize For Calling Your Girlfriend A "Ball-Chugging Slut Whore"
When you try to piece together last night's events, you realize that you behaved like you were in a Michael Bay film: you did a lot of running around and screaming and every so often someone with big titties would tell you to calm down. At that point, it’s time to call and apologize to people, which usually involves conversations that go a little like this:
You: Hey, what's up.
Person You Went Out With Last Night: I fucking hate you.
Stage 5: Get The Goddamned Picture Off Your Facebook Page RIGHT Now
Covering your friend's camera with your bare asshole and taking 45 photos sounds like a great idea at three in the morning. But the next day, it actually seems like a bad idea because when you log onto Facebook and your same friend's has uploaded 44 of the photos that are tagged "___ ___'s asshole" Right about then you remember that your mother and father recently "found" Facebook and are currently looking at extremely intimate images of their beloved offspring's drunken rectum.