Nice show on Saturday night. No really. Just when I thought you’d reached Ultimate Drinking Capacity you go one up on me and just drink even more. The way you down Bud after Bud is just so ladylike and graceful, I don’t even know why you don’t have a boyfriend.
I mean it’s not like you don’t have prospects. Well, it’s not like you didn’t have prospects. Yeah, on Saturday morning you had prospects. You had several prospects, and they were all just a little bit cute. But then you had to go drink all those beers, didn’t you?
And what did you do when you were good and drunk? What did you do Kat, come on, I know you know the answer to this one as well as I do. You got out that God damned devil device, didn’t you? And your happy little fingers started tapping away.
Is it so hard to not text when you’re drunk? You spend a lot of time not texting when you’re sober and you do fine—in fact, that’s why you had so many prospects on Saturday morning—because you weren’t drunk or texting (although the two ceased to be mutually exclusive a lot time ago, didn’t they?).
I’d like to know the exact thought process you had gone through when you decided it was a great idea to text your co-worker to tell him that you like him. Or what was going through your mind when, 2 hours later, you decided to text him again and tell him you didn’t mean it.
What about when you got home at 4am and sent a text to the guy from upstairs with the filthy apartment to see if he was home? What were you thinking when, upon upstairs boy not being home, you decided to text that guy you had a blind date with months ago just to ask ‘what’s up?’
Was it really necessary, then, to text your best friend to tell you her wanted fried chicken? Or to express your emotions to a new friend who has been acting strange with you? And what about that blank text to your mother? Really, Kat?
I see no choice but to ban you henceforth from operating any mobile transmitting device when you’re drinking—and there will not be any compromises on this. You are a lousy, pathetic drunk with an itchy trigger finger, and I will no longer allow you to annoy other people at un-Godly hours throughout the night and morning with your incessant text drivel.
You will no longer be given the freedom to text at your own drunken will. I know you think I’m being harsh but someday you will thank me—especially when your Saturday morning prospects are still prospects on Monday.
To be honest, you should be damned grateful you even have prospects.
Yours in supportive sobriety,