Kyle and Amy are expecting me to write about a series of events that happened last night at Sonora Grill, but no. What happened last night is not blog-worthy. It's not even journal-worthy. In fact last night at 11:41 pm all I wrote was:
2/23/13
Went to the gym, pumped up my tires, something happened from 7-10 that I don't really remember.
-Swamp Thing
For full effect, download "Backdrifts" by Radiohead, and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post.
For the record, and this is a completely off-topic tangent, if you reading this shall ever be present at the day of my wedding luncheon, I prohibit, nay I forbid you to ever clink the side of your glass with a spoon in hopes that I will kiss my just ceremoniously given-bride. If you do clink your glass I will not kiss her, but I will kiss you; in the most disgusting, PG-13-rated way possible, ensuring that no one ever clinks their glass again. I don't care if you're a 30-year old bachelor, or a 93-year old Great Grandma. I'm not forking over three grand for a public make out session.
Whew! Back to the wedding festivities now
When I graduated from the school that shall not be named, I had a group of friends, ten guys to be specific, that I was very close with. Of course, we all have similar situational friends such as this, but there were ten of us that were inseparable in our years wearing black and gold (green and white for you, Kyle). It's been nearly a decade since we have gotten together, and I must admit, whenever we do meet up we unconsciously assume the roles that we were all assigned over ten years ago. I of course, take over the role of a 6'5" ten-year old.
And I love it.
Out of the ten, I was the second youngest, and I was the least mature of all of us. Who was nearly arrested for throwing rotten peaches at Subaru Outbacks on the highway? This guy. Who got hopped up taking shots of Sprite syrup that was conveniently gifted to us from the Cinemark complex? I did. Who wore a bright purple suit to church? That's right, me.
And so we sat at a wedding luncheon, half of the original ten, toting wives and girlfriends and discussing boring things like life insurance and daycare prices for multiple kids, meanwhile the 27-year old third grader that I am smashed brownies in my teeth and asked the waitress if I needed to floss.
And you honestly wonder how I am still a single man.
But that's the thing, I L-word being the littlest kid in our group. I'm comfortable with not having to worry about finding a babysitter on a Tuesday night so I can go play ball with my buddies. I like that I don't need to deal with a set of awful in-laws every other holiday. I enjoy the fact that I don't need to check in with who all of you call "the old ball-and-chain" and let her know I'm going to lunch with my co-workers.
After 27 years, maybe I'm enjoying this life too much...
Went to the gym, pumped up my tires, something happened from 7-10 that I don't really remember.
-Swamp Thing
For full effect, download "Backdrifts" by Radiohead, and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post.
For the record, and this is a completely off-topic tangent, if you reading this shall ever be present at the day of my wedding luncheon, I prohibit, nay I forbid you to ever clink the side of your glass with a spoon in hopes that I will kiss my just ceremoniously given-bride. If you do clink your glass I will not kiss her, but I will kiss you; in the most disgusting, PG-13-rated way possible, ensuring that no one ever clinks their glass again. I don't care if you're a 30-year old bachelor, or a 93-year old Great Grandma. I'm not forking over three grand for a public make out session.
Whew! Back to the wedding festivities now
When I graduated from the school that shall not be named, I had a group of friends, ten guys to be specific, that I was very close with. Of course, we all have similar situational friends such as this, but there were ten of us that were inseparable in our years wearing black and gold (green and white for you, Kyle). It's been nearly a decade since we have gotten together, and I must admit, whenever we do meet up we unconsciously assume the roles that we were all assigned over ten years ago. I of course, take over the role of a 6'5" ten-year old.
And I love it.
Out of the ten, I was the second youngest, and I was the least mature of all of us. Who was nearly arrested for throwing rotten peaches at Subaru Outbacks on the highway? This guy. Who got hopped up taking shots of Sprite syrup that was conveniently gifted to us from the Cinemark complex? I did. Who wore a bright purple suit to church? That's right, me.
And so we sat at a wedding luncheon, half of the original ten, toting wives and girlfriends and discussing boring things like life insurance and daycare prices for multiple kids, meanwhile the 27-year old third grader that I am smashed brownies in my teeth and asked the waitress if I needed to floss.
And you honestly wonder how I am still a single man.
But that's the thing, I L-word being the littlest kid in our group. I'm comfortable with not having to worry about finding a babysitter on a Tuesday night so I can go play ball with my buddies. I like that I don't need to deal with a set of awful in-laws every other holiday. I enjoy the fact that I don't need to check in with who all of you call "the old ball-and-chain" and let her know I'm going to lunch with my co-workers.
After 27 years, maybe I'm enjoying this life too much...
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