Drunk You

You now how there's you, and then there's that other you...the one that comes out when enticed with alcohol? The "you" that you've carefully locked away with years of practice from repeated humiliation...but alcohol is the key to that lock? The drunk you. The Mr. Hyde. The one that embarrasses the FUCK out of you now and again and occasionally leaves you with nothing but a spotted memory in which you appear to look great, but in fact have ruined your reputation beyond the point of repair.

Oh, you don't have that? Well, nobody likes you.

I don't let her out now. I'm a grown up. I know the signs. I have been born with the gift to cease and desist upon the feeling of the numb face. Numb face means I have had enough booze to be social, but I should most certainly stop before the caged bitch-ass-whore is let loose on innocents.

I mean, she's completely inappropriate. She moons people. She throws things. She's rude and has absolutely no filter. None. She will say things that will get her, and anyone who associates with her, a decent beat down. She gets mad at twins simply because they look alike and confuse her. She falls asleep in front of firehouses, she yells at inanimate objects (ie: parking meters, trees, etc), and she's prone to impromptu dance performances wherein it is unlikely that such a thing is appropriate.

She's hazardous to my health. She ruined my future in politics, should I have ever wanted one.