“Why don’t you drink?” she asked, eying me in a way one would a narc.
She stood in front of me, two drinks in hand. One of them for her and the other for me. Except when she offered mine, I shook my head and responded with, “No, thank you.” By her reaction, you would have assumed threatened her with violence.
Most people are understanding. Most people are taught how to take no for an answer. And most people would think it rude to ask for a person’s autobiography when denying a drink. She, however, was not “most people.”
I hate parties, and I don’t know why I agreed to attend this one. Maybe it’s the way she could twist my arm. The way she got me to do things outside my comfort zone. I appreciated people like her. People who can talk me out of my usual morose state and drag me out to have a fun time, but parties? Parties have and never will be a fun time.
Since adolescence, parties have only meant one thing (well, two things): Alcohol.
It’s finally happened. I’m not longer an almost-two-year-old bad ass. Nope. I’m a nearly-three-year-old extraordinaire. For those of you who are out of the loop, I celebrated my nearly-three-year-old birthday Saturday. It was an ordeal, let me tell you that.
Dad’s been busy doing dad things. He’s suffering what he calls book ennui. Nothing is interesting him and he’s writing habits have reduced. I don’t know, but I worry about him sometimes. He’s given up sodas, I hear. Which worries me more. He’s trying to eat less yummy food, which has me downright frightened.
I don’t know what’s gotten into him. I suspect it’s those plant people he talks about sometimes. He tried to show me the movie, but I was like, “Dad, it’s boring. Plants aren’t people. Now lemme play with Talking Tom.”
Nothing on AMC has caught my attention like The Walking Dead. Mad Men? I never gave it a chance. Rubicon? Eh, conspiracy shows aren’t my cup of tea. Breaking Bad? I wanted to get into the show, but I couldn’t divorce Bryan Cranston his Malcolm in the Middle character (I’m still working on that). And it’s not a big surprise that this series, of all the great ones that have premiered on this network, grabbed my attention. Can’t guess why? ZOMBIES, MOTHERFUCKERS!
The premiere wasn’t a let down, but it’s too early on to tell if the show will manage to remain fresh past the first season.
Change of subject: It didn’t feel much like Halloween. Jyg and I didn’t do our Halloween thing. We went to JoDi’s party last night along with Izzy, Esmer and Jerry. We headed out to a rumored haunted cemetery, but it was locked up. We built ourselves up for disappointment. No matter, the party was fun.
I started writing my little side project, hoping it sparks some more creation along the way. I’m not stating that it’ll be something worth reading, but at least it’s fun writing. Don’t ask to read it; it’s going into my vault.