They sound indescribably awful.

They are, but they always seem to be just the thing to cap off a night of drunkenness. You're stumbling home from the bar, and all of sudden you think, "Heeyyyyyyy, I could really go for some grease. What's open? White Castle? YEAH! A couple of sliders would really hit the spot!" So you join the horde of drunks milling about in the White Castle, scarfing down the cheeseburgers and boxes of fries, thinking that you're so smart to get some food in your stomach to soak up the booze.

Then, of course, you wake up the next day and your intestinal tract is sitting next to your liver, and they're both nursing a cup of coffee and a cigarette and glaring at you, all "Dude, you could have gone for the Wendy's, you know that? NO, you had to have the White Castle, didn't you? Bastard." And then the intestinal tract runs to the bathroom, and the liver gets up and stomps out to make another pot of coffee, making sure to slam the door very loudly.

I seriously think that White Castle increases your hangover by 50%.

I seriously think that White Castle increases your hangover by 50%.

They are, but they always seem to be just the thing to cap off a night of drunkenness. You're stumbling home from the bar, and all of sudden you think, "Heeyyyyyyy, I could really go for some grease.

I had a friend from Rochester who told me about a place where all the drunk people went after a night of drinking and got what was called a "Garbage Plate". Basically a lot of very random, greasy food thrown into a pile. It sounded like the least appetizing thing possible even when sober, but he swore by it.

man, I miss Buzzy's roast beef.

I can't be in a car with a bag of White Castle burgers. You pretty much buy them by the sack, not individually.

Half a dozen rotburgers, wench, and make it snappy!

I'm off to see Metallic: Some Kind of Monster tonight.

Can't wait for that glorious train wreck feeling. Plus, it's fun to be the resident headshrinker the buds want to see it with. Much discussion will ensue, I'm sure.

More than that? I want THAT dude's practice. The band's coach made $40,000 a month for years. And he wasn't even trained! Please GOD, somebody throw me that kind of bone. (Only of course, if it's a gig where I can actually do good. Integrity can be a pesky impediment to non-filthy-lucre.)

The band's coach made $40,000 a month for years. And he wasn't even trained!

The filmmakers themselves noted, though, that without him the band absolutely would have broken up. So a worthwhile investment for them, based on future earnings.

Absolutely. Help can come in many forms. It was obviously a meant-to-be kinda thing. I'm looking forward to seeing how it unfolded.

AND, praying for a similar opportunity.

As it is, I'm thinking about adding groups to my practice. Loads-o-requests for them. So. Must respond. I'm a bit worried though, because I'm big with the psycho-education. Groups mean much less interaction, I'm thinking.

best food after a night on the piss: a yiros dripping with garlic sauce

Unnnghmmmmm t /Homer

All this sliding and greasing and garlicking is giving me the quease. Seriously.

eta: The only solution for the few hangovers I've had has been to skip all the cures and food remedies and head straight for the puking. Works every time, whether I want it to or not.