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Powerade Mountain Blast

Cost: $4
Alcohol Volume: Do breath fumes count?
Pairing: Grease, incorporeal sense of doom.
Verdict: ★★★★★ “PHARMAC should subsidise this.”

It was Saturday morning. Our heads hurt and our lives seemed over. Gone were the thumping beats of that one Atomic Kitten song we knew, only to be replaced by dry mouths and an unquenchable thirst. When you reach a certain stage in your drinking career, you develop morning-after habits that are difficult to break. Mitch likes to buy a bottle of Powerade the night before and pop it in the fridge to ease his transition back into personhood. Lydia tends to writhe in bed and groan audibly until a sympathetic flatmate brings a cup of pity coffee. Powerade is clearly the more sensible choice, so we thought we’d take this opportunity to review everyone’s favourite hangover tonic.

Powerade Mountain Blast, or “Blue Powerade” as it is more commonly known, is a New Zealand classic. Powerade is not alcoholic*, but is inexorably linked with alcohol. We’ve heard that some people use it for “sports”, but we’ll believe it when we see it. For us, $4 or $6 for two from your nearest BP petrol station is a trifling price to pay to start on the road to recovery. We Googled the science behind why Blue Powerade is such a miracle worker, but were confused (thanks BAs) so decided to blindly accept that it must be good because the All Blacks use it. The advertising leads us to believe that we will become Very Muscular People upon imbibing the blue stuff. As it stands, we are still human slugs who spend 80 per cent of our waking hours in bed nuzzled against a bottle of $8 red but we’ll keep you updated.

Like the pill, it doesn’t work every time. Sometimes it needs to be supplemented by a sausage roll or supermarket chicken. If it’s really dire, you might need both. We all know some fuckwit who thinks going for a run or kale sludge smoothie is the best hangover cure. We are not that person and we hate that person. It’s clear from our not inconsiderable experience that the best course of action is to wallow in your own filth, find a bottle of blue glory, and try to ignore your mistakes. Better living, everyone.

*Unless it’s a Power Jug from K-Zone karaoke, but more on that later.

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Ten things I wish my friends knew about being Māori

: 1). I wish my friends knew that when they ask me what “percentage” of Māori I am—half, quarter, or eighth—they make me feel like a human pie chart. I don’t know how people can ask this so nonchalantly, but they do. So I want to let you know: this is a very threatening