Hangovers, like the one-night-stands that precede them, come in all shapes and sizes. Acknowledging this fact, THC's a choose-your-own-adventure-style cookbook that diagnoses your brain-pain via a series of visual & multiple-choice questions, categorizing it as one of six different species of delerium tremens, and directing you to a range of detailed recipes particularly suited to said genus. For instance, if your answer to the question "What would your ideal activity be right now?" was:
A): "Painkillers and bed? At best I'll read a newspaper".
Diagnosis: The Broken Compass hangover, "hence your lack of direction and certainty, and your general air of desperate confusion, restlessness, fear and loathing", the watching of which should at least make you feel better about yourself.
Remedy: "I recommend action over inaction, positive thinking over maudlin self-pity, and a menu of spicy comfort food", which apparently includes Pizza With Yesterday's Roast, though how'd you manage to cook a roast if you were that bombed?
B): "I just need to work out who I am and what I'm doing with my life. Until I've done that I can't see that there's any point in doing anything else".
Diagnosis: The Sewing Machine, because "there is a needle. You know there's a needle because you can feel it. It's a long needle and it's very sharp".
Remedy: PB, bacon & banana sandwiches and ice cream smoothies, after which the needle you feel may belong to your cardiologist.
C): "I'm hungry. And I expect after I've eaten I'll fancy a drink".
Diagnosis: The Atomic, which "has left an enormous crater. For this reason, you are feeling monstrously hungry. You have no nausea, but an enormous appetite".
Remedy: Chow down on chorizo omelets, Breakfast Burgers, or cardamom porridge with a spicy apple sauce. So chorizo omelets and Breakfast Burgers!
Published: June 6, 2011 at 4:00am EDT
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