Ghetto Queen

So he left a 12 pack of Bud Lite cans in Vermont. And being me I can’t let any alcohol go to waste! Maybe you remember the Deadly Bottle of Gin last year that I openly passive-aggressively decided to finish off instead of dumping down the drain and only stopped when one sip would burn a hole in my stomach lining.
I decided to start drinking the beer last night and poured a can into a giant beer mug in an attempt to make it classier. My mistake, it looked like a giant mug of pee, only not my pee because I don’t drink nearly enough water to make my pee look that light.
It had no flavor at all until I was about halfway through and I must be a lightweight because I already had a little cheap beer buzz going on and it started to taste like something. Not like beer. More like water that is just slightly better than my nasty tap water.
Then I realized that I had unknowingly succeeded in the plan I had made when I moved into the ghettos two years ago. If I was going to live in the slums then I was going to become the Queen of the slums and sit on my doorstep drinking beer out of a can. (This was the slummiest thing I could think of and obviously shows I belong here.)
After moving in I realized that if I did something like that the neighbors would think I was cool and friendly and come over and talk to me! Nooooooo! So instead they probably have me labelled as more of a stuckup bitch. Much better.
So I think I’ll keep drinking the beer, but I won’t be doing it on the doorstep. I’ll remain a closet Queen drinking pee out of a glass. I can still crush the empty cans on my forehead before I throw them into the recycling box in my hall closet.

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One thought on “Ghetto Queen

  1. Mom when you go to hit yourself in the head with a can be careful okay? Because i cant be seen in public with a crazy person with a can shaped bruise on her forehead lol

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