Bottle of wine, fruit of the vine

When you gonna let me get sober?

Leave me alone, let me go home

Let me go home and start over

Last night, on a whim, I went up to the corner store and bought myself a bottle of White Zinfandel.

I’m not sure why they call it white, though. It’s actually pink. Anyways, I broke myΒ close to a year long streak of not drinking, because sometimes life calls for a little fucking vino.

If I overdo it, I get all stupid and annoying. Three giant goblets was just the perfect amount. I might add it to my normal repertoire. It was completely worth the $5.99 I spent.

Cheaper than weed, and easier to get than Vicodin.

Life is hard.

I used to work with a lady who drank a bottle of wine every night so she could sleep. At the time I was slightly concerned, but now I wonder if she wasn’t some sort of genius. I fell asleep as soon as I hit the pillow at 9PM.

And then I woke up at 6AM. Early to bed and early to rise does not make this bear healthy, wealthy or wise.

It makes me old and frumpy. But at least I don’t have a hangover. I almost bought a bottle of pre-made Long Island Iced Tea, but the last time I drank that concoction, I hurled on my friends carpet.

FYI, you can clean up puke with a roll of paper towels and deodorize with FeBreeze while everyone is still asleep. Then make a quiet exit and act like it never happened.

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