Dear Seis de Mayo

Dear Seis de Mayo,
What exactly is your problem?
I mean, here I am, just tryin’ to live my life and you hafta pull that shit… what? It wasn’t enough that I went to bed with the world still spinning?
Is this really what I get for celebrating? How can such shit come from such happiness?
Oh, right, the margaritas… they’ll do it to ya every time.
But seriously seis de Mayo, you better not think for a minute that today is gonna be a productive one.
It must be kinda sad, bein’ the red-headed stepchild to another (well, gosh, let’s just say it, more fun) day.
Still, don’t give up just yet.
One day Cinco de Mayo will come on a Monday and maybe, when it comes to Tuesday and it’s your time to shine, maybe then I won’t be hungover. I mean, is there any way to justify being hungover on a Tuesday? Cuz I can’t really think of one… then again, like that’s ever stopped me before?
Ya know what, it seems safe to say that I’ll never like you. Nothing personal. I just think personally that you stand for everything that I hate about the joy that the previous night brought.
You disgust me.
Hungover Harry


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