I’d rather have a bottle in front of me
In light of the upcoming New Year, I submit the following open letter to my friend Al Cohol for your consideration.
Let me begin by confirming that I’m an ardent admirer of yours. You’ve always been there for me. Whether cold drafts with “the boys,” the perfect 2-Martini lunch, celebrating the holidays, the finest single-malt after closing “the deal” or the rot-gut-feeling-sorry-for-yourself stuff, you’ve been a trooper. Frankly, however, I’m beginning to have serious doubts about you.
I’d like to believe that you’re looking after my best interests, but I can’t help wonder if your influence has led to some rather “questionable consequences.”
Allow me to elaborate.
I will admit that communication is an essential element in every relationship. However, I must insist that no conversation of any substance occurs on the telephone in the same time zone after midnight. So, why did you make me call all those ex-girlfriends? (And “potential for a booty-call” isn’t the answer I’m looking for.)
I like good food. Yet, why would you require that I eat Polish sausage, refried beans, leftover chop suey, M&M’s and macaroni and cheese—all in the same sitting? Granted, I don’t have the taste-buds of Wolfgang Puck, but that was still over-the-top.
Am I the Karate Kid? If not, I fail to see the need to either find “balance” or have you unceremoniously and repeatedly introduce my face to the floor. (Along that same line, it should not take me three minutes and a concussion to unlock the front door.)
Henceforth, some items are irrevocably barred from my person when I’m with you. These include, but are not limited to wigs, thongs, lamp shades, traffic cones, make up and/or bras. Your argument about “living in the moment” is specious at best.
And about those “beer goggles.” If I “think” I may know some attractive lady across the bar from “somewhere,” please recognize that I really don’t. Do not insist that I actually “go and prove it.” By the way, the phrase, “Let’s get busy!” and all derivatives are henceforth banned. Even if I am contemplating it, please reactivate that firewall that prevents any such thought from actually materializing into a verbal statement. (Contrary to your belief, I do not enjoy slaps across the face or cold drinks poured over my head.)
And as long as we’re on the subject, is it too much to ask that you refrain from placing those goggles on me in the first place? I understand that “beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” but it is quite disconcerting waking up next to a total stranger that resembles no one you recall meeting the night before. (As an aside, if that point is non-negotiable, could you at least leave the goggles in place until after one of us has left the next morning?)
All hangovers must cease immediately. I’ll admit that a little penance is probably appropriate in light of something “fun” happening the night before. That said, however, anything lasting past 2 o’clock in the afternoon is not acceptable.
Finally, we must cease and desist our religious debate. I see no point in your insistence that I worship before this “porcelain deity.” I only end up praying to my own God anyway, so what’s the point in continuing? And at the risk of pointing out the obvious—your place of worship was not really designed for use by my face.
As you contemplate the festivities this weekend, please keep the forgoing in mind—and be safe.
I wish you a healthy, wealthy and happy New Year!