"Our Primary Purpose", newsletter for Ottawa
Area Intergroup, June 2002
Area Intergroup, June 2002
1 Star Hangover:
No pain. No real feeling of illness.. Your sleep last
night was a mere disco nap which is giving you a whole
lot of misplaced energy. Be glad that you are able to
function relatively well. However, you are still parched.
You can drink 10 bottles of water and still feel this
way. Even vegetarians are craving a Cheeseburger and a
side of fries.
Slight headache. Don't feel sick, but something is definitely
amiss. You may look okay but you have the attention span
and mental capacity of a stapler.
The coffee you chug to try and remain focused is only
exacerbating your rumbling gut, which is craving a full
English breakfast. Last night has wreaked havoc on your
bowels and even though you have a nice demeanor about
the office, you are costing your employer valuable money
because all you really can handle is aimlessly surfing
the net and writing junk e-mails.
Definite headache. Stomach feels crappy. You are definitely
a space cadet and so not productive. Anytime a girl walks
by you gag because her perfume reminds you of the random
gin shots you did with your alcoholic friends after the
bouncer kicked you out at 1:45 a.m. Life would be better
right now if you were in your bed with a dozen donuts
and a liter of coke watching Good Morning with Richard
and Judy. You've had 4 cups of coffee, a gallon of water,
2 sausage rolls and a liter of diet coke - yet you haven't
Your head is throbbing and you can't speak too quickly
or else you might honk. You have lost the will to live.
Your boss has already lambasted you for being late and
has given you a lecture for r eeking of booze. You wore
nice clothes, but that can't hide the fact that you missed
an oh-so crucial spot shaving, (girls, it looks like you
put your make-up on while riding the bumper cars), your
teeth have sweaters, your eyes look like one big vein
and your hair style makes you look like a reject from
the class picture of Moss side secondary school circa
1976. You would give a weeks pay for one the following:
1. Home time, 2. A duvet and somewhere to be alone, or
3. A time machine so you could go back and NOT have gone
out the night before.
Star Hangover (aka Dante's 4th Circle of Hell):
You have a second heartbeat in your head which is actually
scaring the employee who sits next to you. Death seems
pretty good right now. You can't focus as your eyes are
scrunched up against the overpowering glare from your
computer screen Rancid vodka vapour is seeping out of
e very pore, staining your shirt and making you dizzy.
You still have toothpaste crust in the corners of your
mouth, at least you think it's toothpaste crust. You don't
give a damn either way. Your body has lost the ability
to generate saliva and your tongue is suffocating you.
You'd cry but that would take the last of the moisture
left in your body. Talking is not an option. Your boss
doesn't even get mad at you and your co-workers think
that your dog just died because you look so pathetic.
You should have called in sick because all you can manage
to do is breathe ... very gently.