An Open Letter To Hungover Me From Drunk Me

by Candice Jalili

Dear Hungover Candice,

STOP MOPING IN YOUR BED, YOU LITTLE BITCH, AND REMEMBER WHAT A F*CKING AWESOME TIME WE ARE HAVING RIGHT NOW. Somewhere beneath that pathetic pitiful shell of a human being you have become, I -- drunk you -- exist.

And you know what? I am fun. Actually, I am not just “fun,” I am the life of this f*cking party. The LIFE of it.

Okay, I'll admit it: I am singlehandedly the reason you are lying in bed and whimpering as you ask Google if it's possible to die from a hangover.

Let me answer that question for you right now: NO!!!!!! You are invincible. Be strong. Be cool. Be you. Be awesome. And I may or may not be about to take another sho -- OK, wait, hold on. “Dancing Queen” is on. BRB.

I'm back. And FYI, you just peaked. As you lie in the fetal position shame-spiraling out of control, picture yourself dominating the stage as the entire crowd worships you to your favorite song. That's right, you literally WERE the dancing queen. YOU!! Hungover, miserable, boring you!!!!!

Anyway, back to my apology. I'm sorry that I put you in this position. Well, no. "Sorry" isn't the right word. It's more like I acknowledge that I put you in this position, and YOU ARE WELCOME for the fantastic, inhibition-free night I am working so incredibly hard at creating for you.

You think downing shots of tequila with no chaser is easy!? THINK AGAIN. This is hard work. Appreciate me. Appreciate the hard work that went into getting you to this position.

I miss Hunter.

And I know you are going to pretend like you don't miss him. But HAHA BITCH, YOU FORGOT THAT I AM YOU!! So there's no need to lie. You can thank me for going ahead and sending the text message you've drafted in your head while in the shower for the last two months.

I will go ahead and apologize for the spelling and grammatical errors. I will also shoot you an apology in advance for the 75 phone calls we are about to make to him at some point in the near future.

There's no time to “play it cool.” I HAD TO TAKE ACTION. You've got to understand that.

And you know what? YOU are a giant coward. So what if I texted him to say, "Kissing you feels like kissing yummy clouds, and also, I still love you, and you are the nicest best boy human on the planet. I looofa you, Hunter" and called a few dozen times? At least I'm not afraid to put myself out there.

You know what else I'm not sorry for? This pizza I'm about to go to f*cking town on. While we're on this topic, you need to stop caring so much about what you eat. Because you know what? Tofu tastes like cardboard, and pizza is good (especially when it's a medium pan crust deluxe pizza from Dominos with a side of stuffed cheesy bread. And especially when it's right now).

OMG, OK, HOT man just entered the building. Who does he look like? This is going to kill me. THIS your sober brain could probably help me out with…

Chad Michael Murray! That's who he looks like.

See, STILL don't need you. I nailed it. He is Chad Michael Murray to a T. We're back in 2007, and Chad Michael Murray just walked right off of the set of "One Tree Hill" and into this bar.

You are WELCOME for the sexy eyes I am making at him right now.

OK, he is approaching!! ALERT: He is approaching!!! Remember this the next time you make fun of my sexy eyes. I don't care how many embarrassing pictures everybody is going to be posting in the group text tomorrow… THEY WORK.

OK, he's here. He's here. F*CK! What do I say?! Something sexy and forward.

“You're hot.”

I know that line is going to make you cringe tomorrow, but HA -- the joke is on you now, because it worked, and now we're grinding to Usher's “Yeah.”

That's something else you need to stop sh*tting on. Grinding. Because you know what? GRINDING IS FUN. I feel sexy. And judging by John (Johnny? Jack? Jeremy?)'s boner I feel on my butt right now, he thinks I'm sexy, too. He invited me back to his place, and I'M GONNA DO IT BECAUSE I GIVE NO F*CKS!

When you stop being mad, you will start thanking me for the incredible story I just gave you. Maybe Joey (?) is the love of your life. Just the knight in shining armor you needed to get you over Hunter.

...I miss Hunter.

Or maybe Joey actually sucks. But he smells good, and from far away he looked like Chad Michael Murray, so you're welcome.

In closing, stop being such a little bitch and treat your hangover as a small price for the fabulous time we had tonight.

Okay, go eat a cheeseburger, chug a Gatorade, and high-tail it to work.


Drunk (and also significantly cooler) Candice