Welcome to My Other Couch, a land where we explore the frazzled state following an unspecified amount of time spent in a glorious drunk to astonish the druidy druids. Heathen, depraved, lecherous, divine, holy, inspired. Call it what you will. You got drunk. You’re hungover and in need of a cure, but as we all know there is no absolute cure. But there are band-aids to mitigate the horrors.
And one of these beautiful band-aids is bacon. Waking from a hangover to smell and hear the sultry lusciousness of bacon frying on a pan is like trumpets announcing the coming of the Messiah.
How some religions can ban this salty cured meat treat in its most powerful swine form is enough to make me weep, and I haven’t done that since the Golden Girls got canceled.
And watching someone pass on bacon for fear of the calories is truly a cultural disease confined to the first world nations.
But for purposes of our study here, we’re not talking about one or two slices with the calorie count taken into account.
We’re talking about being balls deep in bacon. This is about being so far into it that you don’t even stop to question the sanity of it, the only question is how far can you go. It’s not a matter of “Have I had enough bacon?” but “How much more bacon can I have?”
The glory of bacon is that you’ve never had bad bacon, you’ve only had bacon that is not as good as other bacon. Pig is best, but turkey, beef, even veggie bacon can raise the spirit of anyone in the throes of a hangover.
Best yet, bookend your binge with bacon.
Before you start pounding the libation of your choice, and move into a debaucherous episode of Alabama Hot Pockets and Dutch Stable Boys, consider a bacon cheeseburger with a side of bacon. The oils with coat your stomach, slowing the absorption of alcohol into your system. Greeks are known to drink olive oil before commencing a drunk, but I think we can agree that bacon is a much more enjoyable feasting endeavor.
And upon waking to the lurid stare of a stranger that looks like they want to do filthy things to you, and you wonder what hell am I in and how did I get here, you realize it is you in the mirror, and you are the evil stranger.
This is why it is essential to always have a package of pre-cooked bacon in your fridge, for those moments of barbaric desperation when the center will not hold, and the ambling trembles of the DT’s seem to break the world apart. It’s like having candy on hand for a diabetic.
Having that bacon will temporarily slow the body’s creation of acetalhyde, the byproduct of breaking down all the booze you ingested. This toxin is a miserable bastard. Plus, bacon proteins break down into amino acids, necessary for brain function.
So, straighten up soldier and rejoin the living one strip of bacon at a time.