Dear Alcohol,

I know that this is said a lot to you, and I don't mean to add to the pile of complaints, but I regret to inform you that you have fucked up again.
Normally, you are good to me. You come out with me to socialize, and help me to ease out the sinful secrets and confessions of those around me - and for that, I thank you. But, Alcohol, why have you foresaken me? Why did you make it seem to me like a good idea to kiss my good (and straight) friend, J? Because of the tongue-fest I recently shared with her, talking to her is now awkward and painful. We've been friends for a long time, Alcohol, I did not think that I qualified for one of the drunken-lesbian-kiss experiences. I thought we were WAY past this.

You Have Shamed Me, And Made Things Difficult,

P.S. To the man in the bar last night that insisted on calling me "Totty", my name is JODIE. And no, you may not put that there.

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