Dear Liver,
Wow. Oh my god. I am so sorry. These past few years have been beyond brutal to you. I know I’m the last person you want to hear from right now – what with me being your physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual abuser and all – but please hear me out.
First off, let me just say that I suffer from APS, otherwise known in the non-medical field as “Acute Princess Syndrome.” Growing up, my parents sheltered me, told me I was special, and showered me with the amount of attention only Kylie’s Lip Kit would understand. When I got to college and realized I was merely a Solange in a world full of Beyoncés, it hit me hard. So hard in fact, that the only thing that got me through it was my dear friend Beer. You see Liver, Beer has this uncanny ability to make me feel like I am special, and awesome, and cool, and fun, and hip, even if I’m not! But now I understand that that is no excuse. It’s completely unfair to you and I am so sorry.
Next, Liver, let me say that I am an extremely socially anxious person. I hate small talk, I loathe meeting new people (espesh of the opposite sex) and I practically have to take a Xanax every time I place a takeout order. The only think that helps me relieve that stress is sweet Aunt Vodka and warm Uncle Whiskey, whose unwavering support makes me feel sexy and outgoing and socially adept. They also make me think that other people are sexy too! Wow Liver, I am so sorry. I could not be more embarrassed of my actions.
Oh dear, sweet Liver, I did not pay attention in 9th grade health class. I did not learn how to deal with peer pressure, or talk myself out of another shot of lighter fluid otherwise known as Burnett’s. Perhaps, if I had listened to Officer Ralph rather than low-key sext Chris Freedman on my new, hot pink Razr phone, I would have spared us both a lot of hurt—or at least spared myself a night with my ex.
I have no excuse for Tequila. I just love to party. Sorry.
I will likely continue to drink just as much in the coming years as I have the during past few. I’m a scumbag like that. I hurt you, I abuse you, I put you through hell, but I really do love you. If there’s one thing Grey’s Anatomy taught me other than to never ever EVER become a doctor, it’s that your liver is really important. With a little overpriced vitamin love and some ad-hoc juice cleanses, we’ll be just fine.
Yours,
Drunk
P.S. A friend is going through a breakup, so I can almost guarantee that you will be subjected to a bottle of vino tonight. Or two. Sorry..
Nice Move979
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Drunk but not in love
(@DrunkNOTinLove) is a die-hard Splenda addict who requires a constant supply of caffeine and male attention to make it through the day. After graduating with her degree in Economics, she now focuses her energy on adding a "Home" to her degree title by perfecting the "intelligent drunk," and conning a banker into marrying her one day. Originally from New England, she is a hardcore Boston sports fan, but only when boys are around. Almost all of her calories consumed Thursday - Saturday (and the occasional Tuesday) are from $7 bottles of Yellowtail Moscato, and in no way, shape, or form is she fazed by this. All forms of hate mail and date party inquiries can be sent to drunkbutnotinlove@gmail.com
@DrunkNOTinLove
