We all know drinking is mandatory for survival if you're 1. truly dedicated to Eris or 2. a self-respecting human being. If you didn't drink (or smoke), you'd probably do badawful things, like kick puppies, be a pagan, or even make puns.
The problem is, drinking sends you into a parallel universe in the morning where the only differences are that everything is louder, everyone is more annoying, lights are way too fucking bright, and your head hurts like a motherfucker. And usually, you have to suck off a grease troll to get back to the loving, chaotic self you strive to be. Unfortunately, I don't have a way around that. But, I did find a way to make the grease wad go down a lot easier.
I give you: Morning Sex. AKA, The Hangover Omelette.
All credit for the recipe goes to my girlfriend. May my hangovers never tempt her to commit murder ever again.
Shit you need:
- A bunch of fucking eggs. The more, the better. You're gonna need it.
- A slice or two of pizza (Any toppings are ok, seeing as how you're not gonna care in the morning anyways), depending on how much of a fat fuck you are (on the inside).
- 1 Garlic sauce cup from whatever terrible fucking pizza place you ordered from.
- 1 Cheese sauce cup from the same place, unless you're so disgusting that you ordered from 2 different places in one night. You don't need this fucking recipe. You need HELP.
- 1 Metal slab or skillet to heat this shit up on. It should be able to cook eggs (somewhat thoroughly), and forcefully ward off any children or loved ones that enter your kitchen. This is your fucking time, don't let them muck it up.
- 1 Butter Knife to cut up that jizz-covered cardboard that you call pizza. I specify that it be a butter knife because if you get interrupted, you're aiming to maim, not kill. It's your fucking family. Jesus Christ.
- 2 pinches of Crushed Red Peppers, unless you're a whiny bitch. "WHAA, I DON'T LIKE SPICY FOODS. I EAT FOOD TO ENJOY MYSELF, SO WHY WOULD I EAT SOMETHING THAT HURTS?" Yeah? 10 bucks says you were drinking wine coolers last night. Pucker up (Your asshole), buttercup, this is gonna make you asplode your hangover right out of your massive waste-hole.
The spice is also necessary to open up your rotten sinuses that have been filling with snot and all sorts of fuckery all night because the alcohol gives you the breathing patterns of John Goodman in 10 Cloverfield Lane.
- Whatever other spices and sauces that you hipster fucks come up with. 1 Rule: No Italian Seasoning. We both know you weren't trying to be authentic getting pizza the night before, so there's no need to be a fucking poser this morning.
- Sausage gravy ~ Thicker than your momma's varicose veins. Preferably made with the grease made from the sausage. If you're too much of a lazy sad-sack, you can get some Bob Evans Gravy mix from the store. Good luck getting there in one piece with that light-sensitivity.
- A bowl durable enough to withstand your shitty coordination.
- A fork.
- Butter, or oil if you're one of those fancy fuckers that was drinking wine coolers. Use lard if you're not in a developed country or you live in Europe.
- All American Cheese. None of that smelly Frenchie ball of mold, shit.
- 1 Pancake flipper. Because what everyone calls a spatula is not a fucking spatula. That fat rubber knife thing on a stick that your grandma used to spread icing on cakes with is actually a spatula. You learn useless bullshit every day.
Shit you gotta do:
- Nuke that pizza shite from last night for just long enough to burn your hand when you pick up the plate. Bam, now you're more awake.
- Bang that butter knife against the pizza in a frustrated manner until it's cut up into half-inch by 1 inch pieces, or so.
- Nuke that garlic and cheese sauce for not long enough. Leave that foil lid on there and watch the sparks fly, and your shitty microwave your aunt bought you bite the dust. Good, now you're pissed off enough for the next part.
- Pour that unevenly heated sauce onto the pizza shapes. Glaze them sumbitches like your girlfriend/boyfriend would never let you do to their face.
- Add the crushed red peppers and mix it in to the glazed pizza chunks until the scent reminds you of mexico and diabetes.
- Smack those eggs against the skillet like it's the band Skillet. Avoid getting the shells into the eggs. I know you're pissed off and hungover, but you don't need your shits to be bloodier than they're already going to be.
- Put the eggs into the bowl. YES, I just had you break the eggs over the skillet and put them into something else JUST so that I could make the Skillet band joke. No, I'm not sorry.
- Grip that fork and stab the eggs with it like it's your in-laws - Over and over again until the eggs look as consistent as the mucousy fuckers can be.
- Dump the glazed pizza chunks into the bowl of eggs, and stir that shit. If it looks like egg-pizza soup, then you've done well for an irate, drunken bastard.
- Put your choice of lubricant into the skillet and heat that shit up enough to cook some eggs.
- Start warming the gravy in the microwave, you sorry sack of shit.
- Once the skillet is heated, pour that soupy sight for sore eyes into the skillet.
- Good job. You now have a hideous mound of egg and pizza sitting in a skillet. While everyone in the room's looking at you like you've gone fucking nuts, flip that shit over in the skillet so that it's an omelette.
- Greaaaatt. Now, rush to heat the gravy up in the microwave because you forgot, because that headache is starting to pound now that you've been standing for about 20 minutes.
- Slap that monstrosity onto a plate and fold it.
- Put the other half of that slice of American Cheese on the fucker, since you decided to eat the other half of the cheese.
- Look in fridge for more cheese, and realize that you're a failure who has no more cheese. Really, fucking nice.
- Attempt to redeem the meal by putting some of that lava-hot gravy on top.
- Cram that shit into your pie-hole until it's leaking out your ass and mouth. Now you're not so hungover, so stop being a bastard.