Ich habe schon immer die Wissenschaft unterstützt! So auch diese Skala:

1 star hangover

No pain. no real feeling of illness. You slept in your own bed and when you woke up there were no traffic cones or random people in there with you.
You are still able to function quite well on the energy stored up from all those vodka and Red Bulls.
However, you can drink 10 bottles of water and still feel as parched as the Sahara.
Even vegetarians are craving a Cheeseburger and fries.

2 star hangover

No actual pain, but something is definitely wrong. You look okay but you have the attention span of a stapler.
The coffee you hug to try and remain focused is only making your rumbling gut feel worse and you have intense cravings for a full English breakfast.
Although you have a reasonable demeanour about the office, you are costing your employer valuable money because all you can handle is some light filing, followed by surfing the net and writing junk e-mails.

3 star hangover

Slight headache. Stomach feels crap. You are feeling rather spaced out and totally unproductive.
You gag when someone walks past, because the perfume/aftershave they are wearing reminds you of the random flavoured shots you necked with your alcoholic friends the night before.
Life would be much better right now if you were in your own bed with a massive kebab and a litre of coke watching daytime TV.
You've had 4 cups of coffee, a gallon of water and a litre of coke, but you haven't weed once.


4 star hangover

You have lost the will to live.
Your head is throbbing and you can't move suddenly in case you spew.
Your boss has already bo****ked you for being late and given you a lecture for reeking of booze.
You put on clean clothes, but you smell of socks.
You can't hide the fact that you (depending on your gender) either missed an obvious spot shaving, or, it looks like you put your make-up on whilst riding on the dodgems.
Your eyes are one big red vein and your hair makes you look like a reject from 1976.
You would give a weeks pay for one of the following:
home time,
a Big Mac and fries
somewhere quiet to be alone
a time machine so you could go back and NOT have gone out the night before.

5 star hangover

You have a second heartbeat in your head, which is annoying the employee who sits next to you.
Vodka sweat is seeping out of every pore and making you dizzy.
You have crusty toothpaste in the corners of your mouth from when you brushed your teeth this morning.
Your body has lost the ability to generate saliva, so you are being suffocated by your tongue.
You would cry, but that would take the last drop of moisture left in your body.
Death seems a pretty good option right now.
Your boss doesn't even get annoyed at you and your co-workers think that there must have been a death in the family because you look so pathetic.
You should have called in sick because, let's face it, all you can manage to do is breathe ........very gently.



6 star hangover

You arrive home from your night out and collapse onto the bed.
You pass out instantly, as you were fighting going into a coma all the way home in the taxi.
You get about 2 hours sleep, then the noises inside your head wake you up.
You notice that your bed has been cleared for take off and is flying relentlessly around the room.
No matter what you do you now, you're going to chuck.
You stumble out of bed and find that your room has transformed into a yacht in full sail on a stormy sea.
After feeling your way along the skirting boards, you find the toilet.
If you are lucky you remember to lift the toilet seat before you hurl and wake the whole house up with your impersonation of walrus mating calls.
You sit there on the floor in your knickers, cuddling the toilet - the only friend in the world you have left, randomly continuing to make walrus noises, whilst dribbling and farting. Help normally comes at this stage.
Tears are streaming down your face and your stomach feels like it is possessed by demons.
Help turns into abuse and he or she usually goes back to bed, leaving you sitting on the floor in the toilet, in a quivering heap.
With your stomach totally empty, your retching has now reduced to 15-minute intervals.
You are convinced that you are starting to turn your stomach inside out and you swear that you saw your tonsils shoot out of your mouth during your last spew.
It is now 6am and you pass your disgusted partner who is getting up for the day, as you try to climb into bed.
He or she gives you further abuse for getting into bed with dried lumps of vomit in your hair.
You reluctantly have a shower in exchange for them being quiet and leaving you alone.
Work is sssssoooooooooooooo not an option.
The whole day is spent trying to avoid anything that might make you sick again, like moving, or opening your eyes - or shutting them.
You vow never to touch booze again.
For the next day or so you might even succeed........