Drunken Apologies. An Open Letter.

Dear Friends/Family/That Random Taxi Driver That Picked Me Up and Took Me Home After Finding Me Face First On The Sidewalk,

Sometimes I like to drink. A lot. And on those occasions I may or may not (okay, always) do stupid things. It is not me, you see; it is the alcohol. In fact, it is not until the morning after when I am chugging Gatorade and trying to get my bed to stop spinning that I even realize exactly what went down. And I feel bad – really, I do. So, I want to take this opportunity to apologize for it all.

To The Bartender: I am sorry that I hopped over the bar and drank beer directly from the tap. And attempted to spray my friends with Tonic Water. And knocked over that giant stack of glasses….

To My Best Friend: I am sorry that I bit your hand when you tried to take my falafel away from me. Yes, I know I said we would share. I am also sorry that I stole your shoe…and drank a beer out of it. And that I peed in your garbage can. Oh, wait. That was your sock drawer? My bad.

To My Friends: I am sorry that I called your girlfriend “Gorilla”…to her face (but I am more sorry that you are dating such a mess). Sorry that I brought that random dude back to the apartment and accidentally took him to your room. I will wash your sheets…and rug. Oh, and your teddy bear.

To The Cab Driver: I am sorry that I didn’t open the window far enough when I was attempting to puke and, therefore, got a lot on the inside of the door. I am also sorry that I only had $2 and 36 cents in pennies to pay you. And I appreciate you letting me give you my Bed Bath and Beyond gift card to cover the rest.

To The Random Person at Dominos: I am sorry that I ate half of your cheesy bread before you came to pick it up. It just looked so lonely on the counter.

To The Dude I Work With: I am sorry that I made out with you at Happy Hour and made you think that I was interested and then laughed at you (and told everyone about it) when you asked if you could come home with me. That was really insensitive.

To My Grandma: I am sorry that my friends and I thought it would be funny to drunk dial you at 3 am to tell you that I just hooked up in a bathroom. I just hope you don’t know what that means.

To The Guy That Lives Below Me: I am sorry that I was in the mood to tap dance when I got home from the bar at 5am. I am also sorry for that loud thump at around 7am; my bed was rocking and I rolled right off.

To That Dude I Met: I am sorry that things didn’t work quite that well. It is really hard to aim/stay focused with 6 vodka/Red Bulls in my system. I am also sorry that I stole that pair of boxers; I couldn’t find my skivvies in the morning and needed something under my dress. P.S. Let me know if you find those…

To That Dude I Met’s Girlfriend: He didn’t tell me about you until the next morning. And that underwear you may find somewhere in his room are mine. Sorry ’bout those.

To My Liver: I am so, so, so sorry.

I hope that this covers everyone… past, present and future.

Anyone wanna hit up happy hour tonight? Let me know!

–Laur

[Photo not courtesy of my private collection, but rather metro.co.uk]