You'd think that after decades of hangovers, we would stop making ~pour~ decisions. It always starts with that simple, one-worded text from your bestie on a Friday after a long week of work.
That single syllable happy hour vision is like an aphrodisiac to you, begging you to play with fire once again, getting sloshed to melt away the work stress. It's just one drink right? Famous last words. Next thing you know, you're nursing a two day hangover and drinking Pedialyte from a semi-prone position, watching The Real Housewives from your bed and wondering where it all went wrong. Well, you're in your 30's, so there's your answer. One you leave your twenties, what you don't realize is that you're entering a whole new dominion; one where your body hates you for all your indiscretions but you're not wise enough to take counter action. The delicate balance of going out in your 30's includes copious amounts of Gatorade, required brunch with your crew, and at least three business days where you don't have to do anything.
