Letter #7 - Alcohol

Dear Alcohol,

I know I'm running a grand risk of ripping off that Brad Paisley song but I need to let you in on all the bad things you do to me. Once we get this out in the open I think I might be able to continue our relationship in a more responsible manner.

I have to know why do you let me drink too much when you know bad things will happen? Why do you let me talk to guys who look like Vinny from Jersey Shore, complete with waxed eyebrows and Ed Hardy T shirts? When I find myself indulging in your frosty deliciousness the buttons come undone and the lips get loose (keep your mind out of the gutter.) I say things I normally wouldn't say and make googly eyes at weirdos.

You make me throw up and fall down on my purse making the ever embarrassing "purse dial" happen. Do you know what it's like to purse dial your ex boyfriend? Once that happens he will never believe that you didn't want to call him. You get harassed for days and days. It's horrible.

Alcohol, you make me slutty, along with every other girl on the planet. I do not want to be slutty, but the feeling of your warmth running through my veins and the intense urge to make out with a fist pumping Juice Head go hand and hand. You make me want to house dance and beat up the beat like a complete tool. This is completely unavoidable.

I hate that you are liquid courage because I was obviously given a lack of courage for a reason. I am not suppose to want to slide down stair railings or sit outside in the dark talking to a complete stranger. Which brings me to the fact that you make me lose the ability to think logically. Never would I sit outside in the dark with a stranger without your help. I don't think this deserves a "thank you."

You make my hair smell like smoke and my mouth taste like crap. At the end of the night you make me feel like I haven't eaten in three weeks, and then you take away my ability to sleep decently and trade it in for a black out.

I don't want to break up with you, but I should probably take you on in small doses or at least hire a babysitter. I think that could possibly solve all of our issues. I love you alcohol, even though we only get to see each other a few times a month and you make me look like an idiot, I think we can make it work if we take it slow. I hope to see you soon!

With Love,
Faith