Hang over ratings

I cam across this again recently and thought it well worth the reference!

1 star hangover.

No pain. No real feeling of illness. You slept in your own bed and when you woke up there were no traffic cones in there with you. You are still able to function relatively well with the energy stored up from all the vodka red bulls. However you can drink 10 bottles of water and still feel as parched as the Sahara . Even vegetarians are craving a Cheeseburger and a bag of fries.

2 star hangover.

No pain, but something is definitely amiss. You may look ok but you have the attention span and mental capacity of a stapler. The coffee you hug to try and remain focused is only exacerbating your rumbling gut, which is craving a full Irish breakfast. Although you have a nice demeanour about the office, you are costing your employer valuable money because all you can handle is some light filing, followed by aimlessly surfing the net and writing junk emails.

3 star hangover.

Slight headache. Stomach feels crap.You are definitely a space cadet and not so productive. Anytime a girl or lad walks past you gag because the perfume/aftershave reminds you of the random gin shots you did with your mates after the bouncers kicked you out at 1.45 am.
Life would be better right now if you were in your bed with a dozen doughnuts and a litre of coke watching daytime tv.
You've had 4 cups of coffee, a gallon of water 2 sausage rolls and a litre of diet coke yet you haven't peed once.

4 star hangover.

You have lost the will to live. Your head is throbbing and you can't speak too quickly or else you might spew. Your boss has already lambasted you for being late and reeking of booze. You wore nice clothes, but you smell of socks and you can't hide the fact that you (depending on your gender) either missed an oh so crucial spot shaving, or, it looks like you put your make up on whole riding the dodgems. Your teeth have their own individual sweaters. Your eyes look like one giant vein and your hairstyle makes you look like a second grade class reject circa 1976. You would give a weeks pay for the following home time, a doughnut and somewhere to be alone, or a time machine so you could go back to last night and NOT have gone out the night before.
You scare small children in the street just by walking past them.

5 star hangover.

You have a second heart beat in your head, which is actually annoying the employee sitting next to you. Vodka vapour is seeping from every pore and making you dizzy. You still have toothpaste crust in the corners of your mouth from brushing your teeth (to try and get the fur coats they now have off.) Your body has lost the ability to generate saliva, so your tongue is suffocating you. You'd cry but that would take the last drop of moisture left in your body. Death seems pretty good right now. Your boss doesn't even get mad at you and your co workers think your dog has just died you look so pathetic. You should have called in sick because, let's face it, all you can do is breathe...very gently.

6 star hangover.

You arrive home and climb into bed. Sleep comes instantly, as you were fighting it all the way home in the taxi. You get about 2 hours sleep before the noises in you head wake you up. You notice that you bed has been cleared for take off and is flying relentlessly around your room. No matter what you do now you are going to chuck. You stumble out of bed and you find that your room is on a yacht under full sail. After walking along the skirting boards on alternating walls knocking off all the pictures, you find the toilet. If you are lucky you will remember to lift the lid before you spontaneously explode and wake the whole house with your impersonation of a walrus mating call. You sit there on the floor in your undies, cuddling the only friend you have left in the world, the toilet, randomly continuing to make the walrus noises, farting and spitting.
Help usually comes at this stage even if it is short lived.
Tears stream down your face and you abdomen hurts. Help now turns into abuse and he/she usually goes back to bed leaving you there in the dark. With your stomach totally empty, your spontaneous eruptions have died back to 15 minute intervals, but your body won't relent.
You are convinced that you are starting to turn yourself inside out and swear you saw your tonsils fly out of you mouth on the last occasion.
It is now dawn and you pass your disgusted partner getting up for the day as you try to crawl back into bed with lumpy bits of dried vomit in your hair. You reluctantly accept their advice and have a shower in exchange for them driving you to the hospital. Work is out of the question. The whole day is spent avoiding things that might make you throw up again, like moving. You vow never to touch a drop of alcohol again and who knows for the next 3 to 4 hours you might even succeed.