I awoke eager and excited, thinking about what the day had in store for us. I had every intention of meeting you, exchanging pleasantries and then getting people shit faced drunk with you.The moment I arrived at the party, I ran right over to introduce myself, only to find, astonishingly, not one drop of champagne. Not even an empty bottle, to give hope that another bottle may be be waiting in the wings. You left me hopeless, questioning who I was and what was my purpose. Isn't there always champagne for Mimosas? What the fuck am I here for if there is no goddamn champagne?! It's like everything I had been taught about daytime bars, was all wrong.
Yearning for that champagne feeling, I started giving myself away for free, to kids and pregnant women! I felt trapped and pulpy, waking up next to non-alcoholic white sangrias and white wine spritzers. It was absolutely the lowest point in my life.
Feeling parched, sober, and used I eventually left the party.
I'm not asking for an apology, Daytime Bar. I'm asking you to take a good hard look at yourself and what you have potentially become. It's not over, you still have time to change. I'll be here for you when you do. In the meantime, just stay away from the damn cranberry juice.
Sincerely,
OJ (not the OJ who killed his wife)
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