...Dear French 75

Dear French 75 (aka as French 57 according to my FB post or Heinz 57 according to my FB friends),

I am writing a letter to thank you for a wonderful evening, but it's over. After a long week of work and kids, I was hoping to unwind after a successful committee meeting. You were my poison of choice. Obviously, I was feeling classy and on top of life. Your citrusy taste was refreshing to my soul. The hint of gin reminded me of my college years. My last encounter with gin lead to me taking
my tights off during a football game and shouting "Gin will make you sin!" The champagne was my savior. As I sipped your sweet nectar, I could feel my mouth finally relaxing. No longer was I the mother walking around with her teeth clenched and her hands in tight balls. I was a woman. I was not a "light weight". I was feeling strong.

I thank you for making me believe it would be a great idea to mix you with a delicious but rather spicy plate of shrimp and grits. I was able to ignore the runny nose and sweating. I could feel no pain. I would like to thank you for convincing me to have another round. By this time, I was the least bit phased by the thunderstorm that caused the lights to go out in the restaurant. I was more concerned with a phone call home at which time I discovered that my husband had gone to Target with our children. HOW DARE HE DO THIS TO ME? I LOVE TARGET.

I would like to thank you for making me feel so great about life that I gave you a FB shout out at which time I discovered Kathy Lee Gifford was at the same location. Without thinking twice, I grabbed the first waiter I could find in the dark and asked "Where is she?" Luckily, she was gone. I was not at my best. Thank you for convincing me it would be a great idea to go get something out of my car during a monsoon and then return to the restaurant to finish chatting up with my friends. Never mind that I was soaking wet and weaving between tables in the dark.

Thanks for bringing out my alter ego "Lohan" short for Lindsey Lohan on the way home. My circle of friends were quite entertained with phone calls and texts because I am sure they have missed her. Lohan is often the life of the party and is notorious for surfacing at Snoop Dog concerts and football events. She does not mind puking all over the steps of a building in front of everyone nor does she mind passing out in her yard.

The SBF and kids came home to find Lohan soaking wet and passed out across our bed. A shining moment that will go down in the books. Thanks for the massive headache that woke me up at 6 am. Thanks for knocking off those last 5 lbs I wanted to lose before our vacation on Monday. I never knew my body could produce something that resembled that of Heinz 57 sauce. Thank you for allowing my husband to sleep through my screams "I am on fire!" He needed his rest.

Most of all thank you for allowing me to forget that I have responsibilities called CHILDREN. Children that could give two shits about a hangover. They have to eat. Children that don't care how much my head hurts. They want to give me a play by play about how they stayed up till midnight watching a scary movie because daddy said it was okay. Thanks for allowing my youngest to practice her "beauty shop" skills on my head. An idea I came up with, so I could sleep on the couch in the playroom. My hair had dried into an "old school Al Sharpton hair do". Now it's a shiny from a massive amount of leave in conditioner and grease that I allowed her to put in my hair just to sleep. I look like f------g James Brown.

Thank you for giving me the strength to venture out to Wal-Mart without a shower, without brushing my teeth, and sporting dirty clothes to get the damn beach toys and towels that I promised to buy the girls today. Dehydrated and delusional, I spent an obscene amount of money on noodles, pails, shovels, kites, glow sticks, glow necklaces, glow bracelets, goggles, sand molds, sand shakers and Fourth of July light up things. My disguise of choice...sunglasses and a hat fooled no one. I thoroughly enjoyed running into coworkers and friends. I appreciate them listening to me when I warmed them "don't come to close. I am hung over."

So, f--- you French 75!! It was good while it lasted, but I must move on. I just have no room for you in my life. Thanks for the one night stand and the unexpected bitch slap at the end. You may have won this slap off contest, but you hit like a bitch. That Mother's Cure has done far more damage and has been with me through the good times and the bad times for a couple of years now. She has my heart. I will never stray away...unless Prosecco comes to visit.

Sincerely,

My two middle fingers