“It's My Birthday, Bitches!”

The Hungover Games from Ashley Hinshaw

Effie Trinket: The time has come to select the courageous men and women for the honor of representing yourselves in the 2012 Hungover Games!


Potential Contestant: You don't think we'll get picked, right?


Other Potential Contestant: No, we're young. We don't even get hangovers.


Effie Trinket: As it was decreed, each year, neighborhood bars would offer up drunkards as tribute to compete after a night of drinking. There are no sunglasses, no water, and no headache medicine. These are the Hungover Games!

When I was drinking regularly and heavily in my 20s, hangovers, as they say in the penal system, were my bitches. I pimp slapped them until they treated me right, and then, went on with my day.

But, now, as the song says, hangover sure hurt more than they use to. In fact, there have been mornings when I would have leapt into Death's sweet bosom to get away from the aftereffects of a bourbon too far if only Death would have me. (She won't, the tease.)

Age has taken away that superpower. So, that's one more thing I can't do anymore, but as I said, in my prime, I would have medaled easily in The Hungover Games, possibly, earned the Gold.

Now, I 'd be like the myth busters riding in the Throne of Moan, a whining little girlie man: