Vodka Split

I'm breaking up with vodka.
I think our relationship is getting unhealthy.
That seems to be in the air lately.
Delicious bastards.

I drank so much the other night that I made myself purge just to try and stop the room from spinning.
What did I think I was, 21 again?
I'm way too old for such nonsense.
And I paid for it dearly the next day.
"Dearly" being a euphemism for Could Barely Keep My Insides From Oozing Out Of Every Crevice In My Body nauseated.
I think I'll stick with d-e-a-r-l-y.

The thing is, I'm usually savvy enough to know when to say when.
Actually. No. I'm not at all. I'm about as extreme an extremist a chic with red hair can get.
But I at least don't drink to the point of turning green.
That is for amateurs. 
I usually drink to the point of heightened amorosity.
And then I text some lucky douchelord.

But there are no handsome douchelords to text.
So rather than stopping at Mmsk Mmsk Mmsk tipsy I just thought I'd drink until I couldn't see straight.
Because that is far less dangerous.
O-b-v-i-o-u-s-l-y.

At one point I woke up from my nap and had an overwhelming desire for guacamole.
If you bring me Chipotle I will do you.
Better skip that Facebook status.
My updates have been getting me in to enough trouble lately.
Some dudes I don't wanna do.
That's one diddle I'd want undone, home skillet.

So eventually my desire for guacamole finally overcame my desire to lay down.
But I can't even describe how exhausting it was walking the 28 steps from my car.
Why is there no drive thru?
Then I wouldn't have had to put on a bra.
Assholes.

So since I seem to be incapable of anything in moderation.
I'm cutting it off. Cold turkey.
At least for the next day or so.
Some affairs will never die.
That's just love for ya.