![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
So, some stuff.
I got in late last night. I saw some faces that probably thought I'd get pretty screwed up, but the only fatality of the night was my wallet - which is not something that concerns me in this particular case. Birthday party night, ect, et al. I did, I guess, accidentally pick up someone else's tab for dinner because of the wierd way the waiter divided up, but that's actually probably a boon 'cause funds are tight for a lot of people these days, and they're not really tight for me. That's a bullet I'll happily eat - especially if we're all out to have a good time.
They say that any landing you can walk away from is a success. I feel like that extends to nights out as well, except you can probably substitute 'walk away from' with 'eat Taco Bell and watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer in your own apartment', purely for accuracy's sake.
Parties are exhausting. Everything's loud and moving, and I become easily confused. I am out of my element. I don't know where to look or what facial expression to adopt, or even what things mean, anymore. When I'm alone, I don't really drink anymore. Everything feels clear and rational, but when I'm at a thing like that, I do. Everything blurs around the edges, and I'm not so concerned with it anymore. So, yeah, and it's expensive, so it's better to get something that tastes good, am I right?
I type that as I wrap my butter chicken dinner with a Keystone Ice, which may be one of the worst beers ever to grace our planet, and I do it without even a hint of irony. I did not buy this beer, and the times when I will willingly do so are vanishingly slim. To call it an acquired taste indicates that there is a taste that you come to appreciate, but even if I have drunk enough of this beer to have acquired that, there's still nothing in this that I'd really consider good. It kind of tastes like soda water that's had nickles soaking in it, but I guess at this point, it's familiar and a little comforting, like a blanket you probably ought to throw out because it smells like cigarette smoke and old cat.
I make no excuses.
And I want to say something about going to the Botanical Gardens, but every time I'm going to, I feel like I've hit the end of my good word count, and everything kind of goes to hell, suffice to say that it's certainly nice to go somewhere where like that with a pretty girl for a change of pace.
They say that any landing you can walk away from is a success. I feel like that extends to nights out as well, except you can probably substitute 'walk away from' with 'eat Taco Bell and watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer in your own apartment', purely for accuracy's sake.
Parties are exhausting. Everything's loud and moving, and I become easily confused. I am out of my element. I don't know where to look or what facial expression to adopt, or even what things mean, anymore. When I'm alone, I don't really drink anymore. Everything feels clear and rational, but when I'm at a thing like that, I do. Everything blurs around the edges, and I'm not so concerned with it anymore. So, yeah, and it's expensive, so it's better to get something that tastes good, am I right?
I type that as I wrap my butter chicken dinner with a Keystone Ice, which may be one of the worst beers ever to grace our planet, and I do it without even a hint of irony. I did not buy this beer, and the times when I will willingly do so are vanishingly slim. To call it an acquired taste indicates that there is a taste that you come to appreciate, but even if I have drunk enough of this beer to have acquired that, there's still nothing in this that I'd really consider good. It kind of tastes like soda water that's had nickles soaking in it, but I guess at this point, it's familiar and a little comforting, like a blanket you probably ought to throw out because it smells like cigarette smoke and old cat.
I make no excuses.
And I want to say something about going to the Botanical Gardens, but every time I'm going to, I feel like I've hit the end of my good word count, and everything kind of goes to hell, suffice to say that it's certainly nice to go somewhere where like that with a pretty girl for a change of pace.
Parties
Re: Parties