The worst hangover I’ve ever had was about 2 years ago, when I was 26. My girlfriend and I were hanging out at a friend’s house with a big group. The goal of this evening was to “level up” our newly-turned-21 friend’s liver by basically drinking all night. We were keeping track of how many shots each person had done with a big piece of lined paper stuck to the fridge. I didn’t like how I was greatly lagging behind everyone in my shot count, and how I did not feel that I was as drunk as everyone else, so I decided to do about 5 or 6 shots of various liquors by myself in the kitchen while the rest watched something on TV. Honestly, the party ended fine. I was well and truly drunk but did not feel any incoming hangover from it. The rest of the bad decision happened when we got home at 1 am and continued to drink (my girlfriend was the DD, so now that we were home she wanted to enjoy a few beverages herself.) We’d made a big pitcher of sangria earlier in the day for the hell of it, and decided to enjoy a few glasses before bed. I was already basically shitfaced at the time, so a few glasses of wine sounded like no big deal. We finished off the pitcher together, and went to bed. The next morning I wanted to d i e. It was the first and last hangover I ever had where I could not physically get out of bed. Every moment of vomiting/blowing up the toilet was preceded by 10 minutes of me screaming at myself internally to get the fuck out of bed before I puked in it. The party was Saturday night, and I spent all of Sunday in bed and had to call in sick to work on Monday because I was still not fully recuperated. I don’t care whether you believe that mixing your drinks is an old wives’ tale or not, but to this day I will not have anything else but what I start the night out drinking. If I have a beer first, I will have beer and nothing else, liquor first, liquor all night, etc. And there will be no more drinking competitions in my future. Just remembering this makes my stomach turn inside out.