Sometimes life gives you lemons. Sometimes it gives you limes. Or Lyme disease.

Snarky Patty alert: This past week did not go well for me, my friends.

In fact, it’s been one that not only has been the absolute Stink-A-Palooza 2021, but also has been one I would not wish on anyone.

Except maybe the mean troll who was responsible for it. Word on the street is that mean guys finish last?

Hmm. Either way. It was one that I would love to repeat NEVER.

Not by a long shot. Or a short one, either

Or a putter shot. Or a vaccine shot. Or rim shot — or any other shot sort, see?

Frankly, last week literally drove me to the brink of a real shot.

You know, the alcohol variety.

Now, I don’t know nothin’ about doin’ no shots, yo.

I honestly don’t drink. Not because I’m opposed to it in moderation, natch. I’m not some stuffy prude, ya know, no matter what you may have heard on the street. It’s just that, other than the occasional “whoop-it-up” fest in my early 20s, I’ve just never been a real alcohol

aficionado.

I don’t like being sluggish or floopy the next day. I don’t like anything that makes my head hurt or my tummy bloat. And, if I’m choosing calories between drinking alcohol or chompin’ dark chocolate, um hello? #ChocolateIsEverything

Heck, I haven’t even had anything other than a wine other than at communion time (pre-COVID) since before Kyle was born. He’s 21 and gestation for humans is nine months so, you do the abstinence arithmetic, a’ight?

Ergo, even though tempted by the worst day I’ve had since corona was only popular as like, the cool-people cerveza, I didn’t even know where to begin lookin’ at liquor?

Tequila or vodka, maybe? Perhaps some type of the 87 gazillion types of whiskey out there. I really couldn’t

tell you because my beverages

of choice are coffee and diet

cola.

What? There’s water in both of them?

Hmpf.

But last Wednesday, my wonderful pals, was a complete stroll down “somebody please just SHOOT me, already” avenue, you dig? And it shot all the air right out of me.

Speaking of which after much aggression, er, I mean digression, maybe I need to put on a big girl dress and just toss back the baddest shot in the whole darn town: whiskey.

BLECH, BT Dubs.

Um, is it me or is there a new brand unveiled every 14 seconds or so?

Old timers like me, who still watch commercials, can’t help but notice that, besides insurance, new drugs, mobile phones / wireless services, credit card, home health / elderly alert, and obviously restaurant and / or food delivery service companies — well, alcohol ads air almost always.

Seriously.

If you aren’t watching 1) Jake from State Farm get extra pizza, bacon or honey right from the hive; 2) that hilarious motivational speaker teaching old people in young bodies how to say “quinoa”; or 3) Target, Wal-Mart or Home Depot convincing you confinement is cool (and who to vote for next political season, just sayin’) …

Then you are definitely sitting through a beer or whiskey spot beckoning your beverage — and future hangover, BT dubs.

And the booze spots are hysterical, by the way. Just about funny enough to turn a teetotaler like me into a rip-roarin’ Prohibitionist.

Probably not though, again, I’m not disparaging it. I mean, I’m an Italian Catholic, for heaven’s sake.

Red wine is one of the four Italian food groups, capisce?

Kimerer is a columnist looking to get sauced, but probably the tomato kind in a hearty Italian meal. Visit www.patri ciakimerer.com.