Diary of a Drunk 7-Year Old

I love mimosas.
I love mimosas.

Dear Diary,

Today was the bestest day ever! Mommy and Daddy took me and my sisters to a restaurant called Bazil. They said we were going to have something called brunch but all I wanted was pancakes. I love pancakes. I want to marry pancakes because pancakes are my most favoritest thing in the whole entire world. When we got to the restaurant, my sisters were both on my nerves so I demanded that they sit away from me. I’m seven years old and need my space. The nice waitresslady came to our table and I heard Mommy and Daddy order something called Bloody Marys. I don’t know about you, but I would never order something that was bloody. But they were very excited to have them. Mommy said it was making her feel better because she was hanged over and Daddy said something about the hair of the dog. I don’t know what he meant by that but I’m pretty sure we are going to get a puppy!!! I am going to name her Fluffy if it’s a girl and if it’s a boy I will name it Taco Bell. I ordered silver dollar pancakes and a Sprite but Daddy said I had to have either milk or juice. It’s not fair! Mommy can have six of the Bloody Marys but I can’t even have one Sprite?? I can’t wait until I am old enough to buy my own Sprite. I will drink it every day and I will not share it with my dumb sisters. I got an orange juice because milk is too yucky.

The waitresslady brought me my orange juice in a stupid baby cup with a lid and I told her I was a big girl and wanted it in a big girl glass so she went back and got me another one. It tasted yucky. It was all watery and bubbly and tasted like Orangina. I told my Daddy that it tasted bad but he told me to drink it and that I wasn’t going to get a Sprite. So I drank it. And then I got a refill. This one tasted yucky too and this time my Mommy tasted it. She said that it tasted fine. “It’s probably just another brand. Drink it or drink water.” Mommy can be mean when she has too many Bloody Marys I think. So I drank that orange juice too.

And then I started to feel funny. But not in a bad way, but a fun way. I felt like I was so happy and that I could do anything. I felt extra pretty and started to smile at this little boy at the next table. He was about ten but I found this new confidence that I had never had before. I felt like he really wanted to be my new best friend and color with me and play on the swings. I had the urge to text my old boyfriend and just say hello but then I remembered that I don’t have a cell phone or an ex-boyfriend. And then I started to sing a Katy Perry song I like and I climbed on top of the table and started to dance. I know I looked really good but my parents pulled me down. So I asked for another orange juice.

A few minutes later, there was some commotion at the booth next to us. One of the parents said that they think their kid was drinking something called a Mimosa and they were really really really mad. I just kept drinking my orange juice but then my Daddy took a sip and said that mine was a Mimosa too.

“No, it’s orange juice,” I said. “It’s the best orange juice in the world. I love it and I want to marry it!”

He yanked it out of my hands.

“Didn’t you taste this?” he yelled at my Mommy. “This is a fucking Mimosa. Our daughter is drinking fucking Mimosas. How did you not realize that when she told you that it tasted funny and then you tasted it yourself? How much of a drunk are you?”

“It was an accident!” she screamed back at him. “It tasted fine to me!”

“Well, that’s because you have forgotten what juices taste like when they aren’t mixed with vodka, champagne or gin!”

“I DON’T DRINK GIN!” she said.

“Can I have my orange juice back? I asked

“NO!” they both yelled.

They called the waitresslady over and yelled at her but after this, things start to get blurry for me. I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, I was at home on my bed and it was night time. My Mommy was in bed next to me asleep really hard. My Daddy asked me how I felt and I just told him I wanted the hair of the dog and I want to name him Taco Bell. Or Mimosa.


Name Withheld

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I wait tables and bitch about it on my blog, The Bitchy Waiter.

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