Ode To The One I Love

If you've been keeping up with my awesome life, you know what happened to me recently. In the midst of all the pain, somewhere in the nether regions of my mind, I heard my doctor say she wanted me to stop drinking. Thinking back on it for the past few days, I thought it was a drug-induced memory. But after the hydrocodone cloud dissipated, it became an actual event. I was curled up in the fetal position on the examining table, that stupid paper sticking to the side of my tear-soaked face, and she said those six dreaded words: I WANT YOU TO STOP DRINKING. 

Fat, alcoholic bitch say what? (I know, a little too Hannah Montana, but hey, if the alcoholism fits...) How cruel can one bitch be? I mean, you strip me of my patience, my confidence in your nursing staff, my dignity after having me wait so long that I was in tears from frustration and pain, and now you're saying that I, A Bitch Called Mom, Dr Jekyll and Mrs.Hyde, can't even have the one solitary pleasure in her life? Check the obits, people. There's about to be a doctor of internal medicine position open real soon.

So as I sit here semi-sober after having been dry for a whole fucking week, I think the time has come to write a poem to the one I love...Jose Cuervo.

Ahem...

Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And Summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And oft' is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd:
But thy eternal Summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

What? I said I was semi-sober. I'm sure Shakespeare won't mind.