Excerpts from an ode to Vodka

...Him (fuck I wish I knew his name) and I hop in the cab and we're off to the Bar. At this point I get the strong urge inside me to open my phone and call the Rog. I (yes, me!) take control for this brief moment and think...Hmmmmm! Do you really want to call the Rog with Him sitting next to you? ...of course not, so I text messaged him instead. After the drunken text message of something probably along the lines of "fuck off I hate you....I miss you and am still in love with you (you know I'm a crazy bitch and can love and hate him at the same time)..I put down my phone on the seat like I do in my car. Guess what, Vodka? IT WASN'T MY CAR. So now we have no phone, a dead hitchhiker in the trunk, we just ran over a squirrel, and the thong I shrunk in the laundromat is cutting into my Bungaranamus! I can't call my asswhipe friends to arrange to meet up with them, which means I probably won't be seeing much of you either (that's another topic of its own), I can't call my family, I can't call my booty calls and I can't call the Rog or any of his homie cabbies. I know this is my fault for relying on that damn phone so much, but why did you let me digest so much of you last night????

Did it stop there? Of course not! You know Vodka, I'm a good kid. I work hard, try and be a good person, respect other people and try to just enjoy my life. I have NEVER done an illegal drug, just never had the urge to do so, so why is it that last night you convinced me prescription drugs were OK? And why for the LOVE OF GOD did you convince me Viagra was the smart thing to do? In case you forgot, I'm a 29 year old woman with the sex drive of a 16 year old Rottweiler (yes people, I'm am-bi-gay-dextrous). So now after 2 orgasms, and 10 hours, I am still looking for a hard on. Thanks my friend!

...Jeff's a rancid pig fuck! Jeff's a rancid pig fuck!