Rejection Letters

Sea Breeze

Sea Breeze:

  • 1 1/2 oz Vodka
  • 3 oz Cranberry juice
  • 1 1/2 oz Grapefruit juice
  • Garnish with a lime wedge

While the Kennedy’s sit across the bar and sip on their dignified signature cocktail, go ahead and take their foul-mouthed cousin out for a spin. And spin, you will! The Sea Breeze is just sweet enough to mask bitterness, tart enough to keep you thirsty, and strong enough to knock out your better judgement. Made just for you.

Sea Breeze requires trauma, deeply nestled in the back of your psyche. It pairs best with self-destruction. Drunk-dial your therapist. Feed fifty dollars into the jukebox. Compile an eclectic playlist of early-2000s emo mixed with a little 2010 Ke$ha. Sing every word. Mayday Parade deserves this! Dump the Sea Breeze into your friend’s lap. Immediately order another one. Get down on one knee and propose to your boyfriend with a maraschino cherry. Ugly-cry when he says no. Smoke a cigarette. Throw up in the bathroom sink. Throw up in the urinal.

Sea Breeze will love this, trust me.

Be loyal. Don’t ever let the bartender deter you from your commitment to the Sea Breeze.

“How about pineapple juice instead of grapefruit?” She will ask. How about I light your fucking bar on fire?

That’s the kind of allegiance it requires, and if you can’t comply with that, then you may as well order a tall glass of warm milk instead, and walk across the street to the daycare to settle in for a much-needed timeout with all the other defiant babies who can’t follow the rules.

As for food pairings, Sea Breeze is flexible, but a nice, hot, greasy mozzarella stick truly highlights what it’s all about. Allow the grease and cheese juice to dribble down your chin as you bite into the scorching hot cheese stick. Slap away anyone’s hand who wants to try one. Take a shot of marinara. Take another. Finally, wash it all down with a big slurp of Sea Breeze. Rinse and repeat.

Sea Breeze loves to take, so you must be willing to give. Relinquish control. Relinquish your car keys. Leave an earring on the floor. Your ID. Phone charger. Sweatshirt. Hand it over. Give assurance that you will be back to recollect your sacrifices. At the very least, walk out on your bar tab. Because, really, what even is a hangover if you don’t pay for it the next day?

Pro tip: If you want to tickle Sea Breeze just right, drink it around Christmastime in a room full of people you haven’t seen since high school. Nothing says “Merry Christmas!” better than rehashing a decade-old confrontation while you’re blacked out.

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Paige Olivia Roberts has a degree in Creative Writing from Southern New Hampshire University. She is the social media manager for Malasaña Magazine. Her work has appeared in the Henniker Review and Sidereal Magazine. She lives in the White Mountains of New Hampshire.

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image: Amee Nassrene Broumand

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