I Like Pickles. I Don’t Like Feeling Like One.

This is so my theme song right now. I’ll tell you why. What started off as an innocent dinner get together with friends I haven’t seen in a long ass time somehow turned into a crazy monster session of karaoke complete with bottomless bottles of soju (or what I like to call the Korean Liquor Of Death) and random Lady Ga Ga songs.

What the f**k. Why are all soju ads so misleading? Dude, I do NOT look anything remotely resembling her cool, collected self when I’m done drinking soju for the night. Then again, I don’t think they’d sell anything if their ads featured their spokespeople sprawled out and passed out 5 different ways from Sunday. Yup…..better to keep them looking fresh and pretty.

I also don’t feel the need to pose as innocently as possible nor do I have a desire to assume yoga poses. Instead, I feel the uncontrollable urge to release my inner rock star upon my poor unsuspecting friends.

I’m not sure what happened. I remember distinctly thinking I was tired and had to drag myself out of my house. Somehow, in the course of an hour (and 3 vodkas laced with Red Bull), I got the brilliant idea of going to karaoke.

After that, it was pretty much game over. I feel like I pickled Barney the Tapeworm along with my liver. My head feels like there’s a horde of mini dwarves raving and moshing within my skull.

I’ve come to the conclusion that soju is the Devil. Soju and I have a long history. Our relationship is Love-Hate. I get my ass kicked almost every time I drink it (Heaven help me if it’s flavored soju because then I just think it’s juice) and yet I keep going back for more.

Tell me this doesn’t remind you of an abusive relationship. Jeezus.

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