deepundergroundpoetry.com

Excuses

My friends champagne tasting party is
tonight.
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I'd rather not attend.
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Excuses are as follows:
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I don't want to wax my mustache.
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I'm too bloated for bubbles.
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I'm too broke to afford good champagne; they'll be mortified if I bring a bottle of baby duck.
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I have no clean underwear.
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I want to stay under the covers. Come on man, it's Saturday.
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It's shit weather outside anyway.
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I would rather get drunk alone like I normally do on Saturdays.
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I'm on my period.
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Consuming all that cheese tonight will set back a weeks worth of progress at the gym.
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I hate everyone.
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I don't know anyone there.
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I'll hate everyone I don't know.
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I have yesterday's old margarita mix in a blender; I'm still hungover.
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The mere audacity of this pretentious ass invite makes me want to gag.
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I'll be in a pissy mood all damn night.
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When I told my girlfriend she could count on me, I was simply bullshittin'.
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Spongebob is on Netflix.
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... ..
...
..
.
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I don't have anymore fucking excuses.
�