Headin' home from the city / Friday night at 3 am / We stopped into the Castle / Man was we starvin' / Cracked a couple jokes I grabbed a number / And I got on line / Horsemeat tastes excellénte / When it's cooked in grease and grime...

For those who aspire to the level of professional boozehound, preparation is nearly important as follow-up. As anyone knows, the key to a lengthy session of steady drink maintenance is a solid base, often referred to as the "beer sponge." Some tour pros endorse the wonders of pasta, though I avoid it due to its properties of expansion. Believe me, nothing kills an evening of dive haunting like a rock hard tummy filled with penne and parmesan! I prefer the bready, meaty Stuffed Roast Beef Sub. Though it can occasionally lead to a bout with the sleepies, proper administration allows the user to maintain a happy, healthy -- non-hazardous -- level of intoxication through many hours of conversation, rented flix, and early morning cable tv.

But what about those morns we all dread. It's been many a post-Khyber am that I've stared at my scruffy mug and sighed, "My head hurts, my teeth itch, my feet stink, and I don't love Jesus." Attentive readers will realize that this malady, commonly called a "hangover," could've been avoided with a little prep on my part. Unfortunately, those evenings usually consist of cigars, animal crackers, too many Vitamin Ys, and not much common sense.

There it is, there it is / Stickin' out like a sore thumb / I'm ready for some action / But the catmeat got my tongue / Don't fondle with McDonalds / Or have a fling with the King / Just hassle with the Castle / At 3 in the morning...

So, you hate yourself. Another evening of excess and a day off gone to waste because of it. [This assumes that you save your power drinking for Friday or Saturday evening. If you're compelled to behave like this on work nights, you're either: a) stupid; b) a league bowler; or c) both] But wait...it doesn't have to be this way!

What would you trade for relief from a day of shakes, cold sweats, and street pizza deliveries? At my worst I'd have traded my soul and thrown in a good chunk of my record collection. ["What? I can relieve this icepick in my forehead sensation by accepting eternal damnation? Sign me up!"]

However, there are ways to overcome the pain, feel like yourself again, and rejoin society as a contributing member. At least you can work up the strength to shower and hit the video store, though maybe not in that order. And that, my friends, is my role in this world: to instruct, share and educate. To let you know that you are not alone.

Fast food service at 3 am / Hang out till the wee-wee hours of the morning / Got my meal ticket to the restroom / And I let the fun begin / Hamburgers for breakfast, why not? / You're getting toilet trained right in the parking lot...

So what becomes a hangover cure most? Buffered aspirin? Ibuprofen? Ear plugs and one of those funky blue masks that you put in your freezer? Oh no...me thinks Steamed Meat + (Pickles x Onions) + Bread_EBun = Cure. And any reader worth their weight in beer knows the scientific name for said equation: WHITE CASTLE SLIDERS.

I'm sure that many of you prefer to doctor the truly classic taste of a slider (an idea pioneered -- and I don't use that word lightly -- in 1921 by Billy Ingram and Walter Anderson). Some of you may use things like cheese (!) and condiments, but there is only way to truly enjoy the taste celebrated by the Ramones, Dictators, ISM and Stinkbombën...by the sack, in your underwear, right from the box into your gaping maw, and straight to the bile-filled pit you politely call a stomach.

I wanna have a contest / To see how many burgers we can stuff down / In sixty seconds flat / Do you think that's fair enough now / You're walking home with ringworm / It's getting light outside / You're singing that same song / You've been singin' all night / And everybody singin'...

There, in that churning, seizing pit is where the miracle combination works its magic. And do not -- I repeat -- DO NOT try this cure with the frozen CASTLES sold in your grocer's freezer. Your microwave is incapable of delivering the even heat distribution and precise temperature control that the PSB Company griddles were developed for. That, plus the scientists at White Castle Labs^® have been unsuccessful in their attempts to freeze and reanimate a dill pickle! This, perhaps, is the one scientific failure of this century that rocks us all to the core.

Murder Burger / Murder Burger / Murder Burger on a drunken night / Kaopectate / Kaopectate / Kaopectate makes you feel alright / Murder Burger / Murder Burger / Murder Burger on a drunken night / Alka Seltzer / Alka Seltzer / Alka Seltzer makes you feel alright...Lyrics to "White Castle at 3 am" by Ism © Shelf-Jobs Inc.

[This article, the first known appearance of THG, originally appeared in ER#41.]

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