Sangria is the devil. Sweet, delicious devil. Or: Oh my aching head

Yesterday was M's "Brofriend's" birthday. He's the guy M went to Verdun and Bastogne with over the Memorial Day weekend and got up to all sorts of shenanigans, including going off the marked path in Verdun which is a big no-no as there are still unexploded ordinances left over from WWI all over the place. I'm amazed they made it home in one piece.
Anyhoo, we went over to their house (they live in our building, but in the other stairwell) for dinner and cake (seriously, they had me at cake). They are red wine drinkers. Serious red wine drinkers. They know stuff about it. I find it all very confusing, but am trying to learn a little. I am not a fan of red wine. Thanks to them, I've tried tons. TONS. S (the birthday boy) is on a mission to find a red that I will like. So far, not so much. He's come up with a few that I don't mind, but not something I'd actually choose to drink. I'm a white wine girl. I prefer the sweeter ones. I love a good Riesling or Gewurstraminer. My favorite white is an ice wine (or Eiswein), which is made from grapes that are picked while frozen on the vines. Oh, man is it good. Also, crazy expensive. Figures, huh? Hold on, sorry, back to my story.
We ate dinner on Iron Man plates (cause we're cool like that and the birthday boy was a big IM fan growing up) and S broke open 3 bottles of wine. I tried them all (including the one we gave him as a gift-a red from the Umbrian region of Italy), but just wasn't feeling them. M has learned to really like reds from hanging out with them and helped S down the bottles. A (his wife) drank a few glasses of red, but decided to break out the Sangria she had made several hours earlier. Now we were talking! Red, I'm not so crazy about, but turn some into Sangria and I'm with you! This pitcher was HUGE. Like Kool-Aid Man huge. And delicious. The thing about a good Sangria is that you don't realize you're drinking alcohol and you just keep drinking. A also adds spiced rum to her Sangria making it extra potent. After M and S had finished off the 3 bottles of wine, he switched over to Sangria (there was a little less than half the pitcher left). We were feeling it. Thank goodness we only had to walk across the top floor of the building. We got Indy to bed (miraculously) and managed to take the dogs out before crawling into bed.
I awoke this morning (thanks to Indy) to a slightly pounding head. And by slightly, I mean it felt like a marching band was practicing inside my skull. Heck, it might have even been a whole parade. So not cool. I haven't felt like this since college. Oh, Sangria, you are sweet and delicious, but you are a bad friend. A bad, bad friend that I will see again (soon) even though I know I shouldn't.
It is 10 am here and I'd like to point out that M is still in bed. He rolled over when I got up and mumbled something that I couldn't quite understand and went back to sleep. He was probably telling me to make sure I take my happy pills.