Last night was a masterpiece, and my head is the gallery of regret.
Wake me up when the aspirin kicks in.
I don’t always drink, but when I do, I forget my name.
If hangovers were Olympic sports, I’d have a gold medal.
Today’s forecast: 100% chance of regret.
I thought I was invincible until the morning after.
Coffee: because adulting is hard when you’re hangover level expert.
My spirit is willing, but my body is in recovery mode.
Cheers to last night’s decisions and today’s consequences.
Hangovers are like uninvited guests that never know when to leave.
The only thing worse than a bad decision is the hangover that follows.
My favorite cocktail? Water and regret.
I’m in a committed relationship with my bed and a large bottle of water.
Cheers to the weekend warriors who fought valiantly, but lost the battle.
I’m on a seafood diet. I see food and I want to eat, but my stomach says otherwise.
Last night was like a roller coaster, and I left my stomach at the top.
Why do they call it a hangover? It feels more like a hang-under.
Every great party starts with regrets, and ends with headaches.
Nothing says ‘Good morning’ like a throbbing headache.
Sipping on the cure for my hangover like it’s fine wine.
Surviving the day one sip of Gatorade at a time.
Hangovers: nature’s way of telling you to slow down.
I don’t remember much, but I can feel every slight move.
Wake up, look in the mirror, and say: ‘What happened last night?’
Last night was fun. This morning is a reality check.
I’m in a love/hate relationship with vodka.
Just another chapter in the book of âWhat was I thinking?’
The only drama I want in my life is my hangover.
Who needs a time machine when you have a hangover?
I’ve got 99 problems, and my hangover is at the top of the list.
Hangovers are just the price you pay for a good story.
I’ll go for coffee, but my head says âstay in bed’.
If only I could trade my hangover for a power nap.
The headache is temporary, but the memories are priceless.
Guilty of partying too hardâsend help and electrolytes.
Nothing like waking up next to regret.
Dear hangover, you’re not welcome here.
My body is a temple, and today’s sermon is on hangovers.
Taking âhair of the dog’ to an existential level.
Learning the hard way: tequila doesn’t equal wisdom.
Yesterday’s fun turned into today’s survival.
Your hangover is simply your body’s way of letting you know you’re still alive.
If hangovers had a face, I’d punch it.
Regret is the hangover that lingers long after the drinks are gone.
I thought finding my keys was the hardest part of the night; turns out it was the morning after.
Behold the power of last night’s questionable decisions!
Testing the limits of my hangover, one sip of water at a time.
Today’s agenda: stay alive and avoid bright lights.
Hangovers are the universe’s way of reminding you to pace yourself.
I survived last night’s adventure, but my hangover tells me it was no fairy tale.
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