Good Nights and Rough Mornings

So usually every friday night, I look to my friends to get the party started. Once they get back from the liquor store I immediately start getting loose. I'm a big microbrew guy and so thats what I drink all the time. I don't drink shit from cans, get your cans out of here. Cans are only good for Beirut.
Well last night was no different, I got my sixer of Ridgerunner, which if you haven't had it go out right now and do yourself a favor. Beers similar to Ridgerunner, which include Double Bag and Mountain Ale are in my opinion the best beer to party with. All you need is a sixer of any of those and your set for the night. They are what we call in the business, strong, averaging probably 6.5% alcohol by volume. Of course they taste fantastic as well, microbrews always do. So I got some Ridgerunner, and with the thought of Beirut, the epitomy of college athletics, I pick up a twelve of Long Trail. Well I start drinking, just hanging out with the usually crew, shooting the breeze while sitting on a hookah. This is the typical low key party, key friends and thats it. Seemingly, everything gets a little louder and the urge to rage grows.
The table gets set up and the list is formulated. Of course HJ and Massive get on the list and would make an impact. Like Pippen and MJ, or Papi and Manram, we're clutch when we need it, hitting the last four cups consecutively to come from behind for the win. These guys were good too, it was no normal feat. Riding the wave, we roll over the next team, they really had no chance. All good things have to come to an end, the unflappable Mark Daly essentially called us his bitch.
At this point the party is really starting to wind down, people are passing out, the alcohol is catching up with all of us. I've had a splitting headache for an hour now, but who cares, PARTY. I take off, being the last man out, a soldier, a marathon rager. I stumble home and force myself to drink water thinking I was dehydrated, which I probably was. Minutes later I'm passed out in my bed. So far everything has been pretty good. So you know the classic alarm clock sound, you know the sound, it's the one sound that makes you want to get violent and maasacre a flcok of sheep. Or in then Kidd family it makes you want to abuse youe spouse, and you wonder why their so was born with a moustache. Well at quarter after 8 that sound starts going off, except its not my alarm clock, it my head. I wake up and my head is pounding, so hard that it is running through my entire body and causing physical pain. Great, I love being hung over. The I realize that im sweating and have a cough. Within minutes I realize the worst, not only did I drink too much but someone was nice enough to gove me their sickness. Awesome. So this is what I wake up to, being completely incapacitated until noon because the slightest movement pains me.
Then when I finally got up to flick on the TV, because there's no way in hell im getting my gym stuff and head to the gym, my day completely turns around. I still feel like shit but I remembered of a Sox game on, and later on the celtics were playing. You may be asking yourself why the hell a spring training game and a celtics game would turn my day around? I feel like Neil Peart is jamming in my head, my body aches, I can barely open my eyes, so get off my case they were both familiar (and I have a strange obsession for these things).