Hindsight is a magical thing. Through the lens of hindsight we can see all the points where we failed and what we should have done differently to have had success. The 'if I had only' game is only useful if its used as a learning experience, not if its as a wistful look at how good life could have been. Sometimes looking at the situation via hindsight doesn't change things. You honestly look at the situation and the information you had at the time only to realize that, as dumb as that move might have turned out, it made sense at the time.
That's what happened on this situation. I had no good reason to not join this group in conversation. Had I not joined the conversation, I would have looked like a bad guy. They looked normal enough. Bob liked my beard. I joined them.
I remained the outsider. They all knew each other and boisterously mocked each other in the good-natured way that men do. After a few minutes of listening to them, trying to follow the discussion, and figure out who was who, it was noticed that I lacked a beverage. This was considered a problem and a beer was pushed upon me.
I did my best to refuse the beer. Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to say I was some innocent that was concerned about the legal age and how I had yet to reach it. I had consumed alcohol before this time and would yet again before I turned 21. That was not the reason although they thought it was. I was driving. I had others with me and their expectations to meet. Mostly, I wasn't in the mood to drink with them. They weren't my friends. I wasn't sure I even liked them. I didn't even want to be there. I was not keen on the idea of making booze buddies.
But they pushed and pushed me. Eventually I accepted a beer with the intent of holding it or nursing it, just to shut them up. They continued to be obnoxious about it so, further succumbing to peer pressure, I slugged down some of the contents of the plastic cup.
It didn't taste right. I knew what beer should taste like and this wasn't it. My concerns about the taste faded as I quickly and uncomfortably became lightheaded.
Then I passed out.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Party Time. Not Excellent.
As I was not looking forward to attending this party, time flew to the day. If I had been looking forward to it, time would have dragged and dragged. Such is life. It felt like I agreed to attend, snapped my fingers, and then I was driving us to the party.
'Us', as it turned out, was myself, Heather, and the As. As neither of the As had a boyfriend at the time, I became their driver. It's not that the As were wallflowers or unpleasant looking as both were attractive. Abigail was just a little on the crazy side, a little too clingy and needy for most guys to put up with for long periods of time. Angela was, well, Angela. She was the only Goth type girl I knew that had dark hair and bleached blond streaks into it instead of the other way around. As individualistic as she was, it confused me that she was keen to go to this probably idiotic party. Her answer to me was two-fold: she enjoyed gatherings to watch people make asses of themselves and to make sure I behaved for Heather. So even with three very attractive young women in my car, I was still downhearted. I just knew this wouldn't go well.
The party was being held in one of those big houses near the lake. The driveway was jam packed with cars, as was the block. After finally finding a place to park, I grumbled that we might as well have walked from the dorms considering where we parked. This got me a Look from all three ladies. I grumbled to myself, took Heather's arm, and started walking.
In the darkness, the house glowed with light and throbbed with music. There seemed no way that this party wouldn't be visited by the cops but I kept this realization to myself rather than be seen as further grumping.
There were people everywhere. People hanging around outside, leaning on cars or sitting in the grass, talking, drinking, smoking. The same was the case indoors, just more so and in a confined area. Snaking our way through the crowd, I became very impressively unhappy. Crowds make me nervous. When you gather enough people together, their collective intelligence drops and with some of the people here, they didn't have much to lose.
The kitchen was filled with hooting individuals entertaining themselves with a beer bong, a funnel attached to a hose used to deliver beer in a rapid manner. Angela flashed us her cute but wicked grin and joined them. I knew her well enough to understand her plan. She wouldn't be drinking but she would bat her eyes and play dumb and cheer on the big lugs that were drinking. In this way she'd get her entertainment value out of watching stupid people. We moved onward, attempting to complete Heather's goal of finding her friend, our host.
We soon lost Abigail as well. Passing through the den, a friend of hers called out and nodded towards the young men on the couch with her. One of them smiled at Abby and that was all she needed. Fair enough. Good for her. Heather and I continued onward.
On the patio behind the house we finally located Carol and her bulky football playing boyfriend Bob. Heather made contact with Carol and they oohed and aahed over each other as females will do when they meet. I just stood back and let it happen. I'd seen it all before. It was only fair to let her enjoy the company of her friends like I did mine. I drifted off mentally until I heard my name as part of an introduction. Politely I shook hands with Carol and then with Bob once he was dragged from his conversation. As he was deep in conversation with his pals, I expected our contact to be brief; we'd nod to each other, shake hands, and return to what we had been doing before this started. That wasn't what happened.
We shook hands, Bob went to turn back to his friends but returned to me. Smiling, he complimented me on my beard. Few people had expressed such an opinion and I warmed to him immediately. I was brought into Bob's conversation, much to the delight of Heather. I was making friends. We were mixing.
Of course, this was a horrible choice.
'Us', as it turned out, was myself, Heather, and the As. As neither of the As had a boyfriend at the time, I became their driver. It's not that the As were wallflowers or unpleasant looking as both were attractive. Abigail was just a little on the crazy side, a little too clingy and needy for most guys to put up with for long periods of time. Angela was, well, Angela. She was the only Goth type girl I knew that had dark hair and bleached blond streaks into it instead of the other way around. As individualistic as she was, it confused me that she was keen to go to this probably idiotic party. Her answer to me was two-fold: she enjoyed gatherings to watch people make asses of themselves and to make sure I behaved for Heather. So even with three very attractive young women in my car, I was still downhearted. I just knew this wouldn't go well.
The party was being held in one of those big houses near the lake. The driveway was jam packed with cars, as was the block. After finally finding a place to park, I grumbled that we might as well have walked from the dorms considering where we parked. This got me a Look from all three ladies. I grumbled to myself, took Heather's arm, and started walking.
In the darkness, the house glowed with light and throbbed with music. There seemed no way that this party wouldn't be visited by the cops but I kept this realization to myself rather than be seen as further grumping.
There were people everywhere. People hanging around outside, leaning on cars or sitting in the grass, talking, drinking, smoking. The same was the case indoors, just more so and in a confined area. Snaking our way through the crowd, I became very impressively unhappy. Crowds make me nervous. When you gather enough people together, their collective intelligence drops and with some of the people here, they didn't have much to lose.
The kitchen was filled with hooting individuals entertaining themselves with a beer bong, a funnel attached to a hose used to deliver beer in a rapid manner. Angela flashed us her cute but wicked grin and joined them. I knew her well enough to understand her plan. She wouldn't be drinking but she would bat her eyes and play dumb and cheer on the big lugs that were drinking. In this way she'd get her entertainment value out of watching stupid people. We moved onward, attempting to complete Heather's goal of finding her friend, our host.
We soon lost Abigail as well. Passing through the den, a friend of hers called out and nodded towards the young men on the couch with her. One of them smiled at Abby and that was all she needed. Fair enough. Good for her. Heather and I continued onward.
On the patio behind the house we finally located Carol and her bulky football playing boyfriend Bob. Heather made contact with Carol and they oohed and aahed over each other as females will do when they meet. I just stood back and let it happen. I'd seen it all before. It was only fair to let her enjoy the company of her friends like I did mine. I drifted off mentally until I heard my name as part of an introduction. Politely I shook hands with Carol and then with Bob once he was dragged from his conversation. As he was deep in conversation with his pals, I expected our contact to be brief; we'd nod to each other, shake hands, and return to what we had been doing before this started. That wasn't what happened.
We shook hands, Bob went to turn back to his friends but returned to me. Smiling, he complimented me on my beard. Few people had expressed such an opinion and I warmed to him immediately. I was brought into Bob's conversation, much to the delight of Heather. I was making friends. We were mixing.
Of course, this was a horrible choice.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Going to a Party?
For us, the weekend was little different from the rest of the week. I'd hang out with Heather for awhile, we'd have some fun, she'd express some annoyance with my current deadbeat attitude, she'd get tired, I'd go home and play video games with the guys until we passed out. Bliss. Being fashionably unpopular, we weren't bothered by invitations to parties or events or anything.
Heather was not quite at such a low social level as I. While not by any means a member of the elite, she would speak to people and make friends and basically all the things I couldn't be bothered with doing at that point. She would get invited to parties. I never wanted to go. Occasionally I'd make some excuse to get out of it. More often than not, I'd do that 'no complaints but dragging my feet' sort of thing that men like to do when they are trying to avoid both a fight and doing something they don't want to do. I'd end up not having clean enough clothes or I'd 'lose track of time' doing my schoolwork and she'd end up going with one of her girlfriends. When I did go, I'd be quiet because I had no one I wanted to talk to. For awhile she stopped inviting me. She didn't argue with me, didn't speak her mind about it so, being the dimwit I was, I thought everything was fine.
I have no clue why she bothered to put up with me at this point. I must have been a horrible boyfriend. My guess is that she saw this as a phase I was going through that I would snap out of sooner or later.
This situation came to a head when Heather got invited to Carol Allen's party in November of that year. Carol was in the social elite of the school and, therefore, mostly unknown to me. She was this pretty but vapid blond gal that had a boyfriend on the big football team in Madison and the party was for him for some game he'd done well in or something. I like football but college football leaves me cold. I hadn't seen the game or cared about it. I was even less interested in going when I heard that I was expected to dress 'nice'. Not 'up', not 'fancy', just 'nice'. Business casual. This went against all my slacker principals. I declined. Heather just looked at me, shrugged her shoulders, and left.
Ten minutes later, the 'As' attacked me verbally. It could have been worse. They'd thrown things at me before. The 'As' were the young ladies that lived next door to Heather in the dorm: Abigail and Angela. They explained in language simple enough for me to understand that I was working my way out of my boyfriend position with this attitude and that going to this party was Important. Once they got the guilty look on my face, they knew they had me. So that I couldn't change my mind or forget, I was marched to Heather's room in order to declare my intent to go. Once I reassured her that this would happen, she was very happy indeed. Her smile was bright and genuine. She hugged me without pausing to consider my smell. She began talking excitedly about what we'd need to do to prepare.
Even though the As gave me a thumbs-up and a 'good boy' grin, my heart was sinking. At this point it occurred to me that I'd have to buy some khaki pants and that seemed like too much of an adult thing to do. I was sad.
Heather was not quite at such a low social level as I. While not by any means a member of the elite, she would speak to people and make friends and basically all the things I couldn't be bothered with doing at that point. She would get invited to parties. I never wanted to go. Occasionally I'd make some excuse to get out of it. More often than not, I'd do that 'no complaints but dragging my feet' sort of thing that men like to do when they are trying to avoid both a fight and doing something they don't want to do. I'd end up not having clean enough clothes or I'd 'lose track of time' doing my schoolwork and she'd end up going with one of her girlfriends. When I did go, I'd be quiet because I had no one I wanted to talk to. For awhile she stopped inviting me. She didn't argue with me, didn't speak her mind about it so, being the dimwit I was, I thought everything was fine.
I have no clue why she bothered to put up with me at this point. I must have been a horrible boyfriend. My guess is that she saw this as a phase I was going through that I would snap out of sooner or later.
This situation came to a head when Heather got invited to Carol Allen's party in November of that year. Carol was in the social elite of the school and, therefore, mostly unknown to me. She was this pretty but vapid blond gal that had a boyfriend on the big football team in Madison and the party was for him for some game he'd done well in or something. I like football but college football leaves me cold. I hadn't seen the game or cared about it. I was even less interested in going when I heard that I was expected to dress 'nice'. Not 'up', not 'fancy', just 'nice'. Business casual. This went against all my slacker principals. I declined. Heather just looked at me, shrugged her shoulders, and left.
Ten minutes later, the 'As' attacked me verbally. It could have been worse. They'd thrown things at me before. The 'As' were the young ladies that lived next door to Heather in the dorm: Abigail and Angela. They explained in language simple enough for me to understand that I was working my way out of my boyfriend position with this attitude and that going to this party was Important. Once they got the guilty look on my face, they knew they had me. So that I couldn't change my mind or forget, I was marched to Heather's room in order to declare my intent to go. Once I reassured her that this would happen, she was very happy indeed. Her smile was bright and genuine. She hugged me without pausing to consider my smell. She began talking excitedly about what we'd need to do to prepare.
Even though the As gave me a thumbs-up and a 'good boy' grin, my heart was sinking. At this point it occurred to me that I'd have to buy some khaki pants and that seemed like too much of an adult thing to do. I was sad.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Our Tale of Woe Begins
Cast your mind back, to a long past time. There's a different President. No one had heard of the band Maxi Starr so it was also a better time. We all thought that the Verdant 'Venger was dead. And a man for that matter. I am in college.
I have hair to my collar. My sideburns are super bushy and are connected by a thin beard. I am super skinny, just a shade above skeletal. I have a dozen t-shirts, which I cycle through in order, wearing them until either I can't stand them anymore or, more often, my girlfriend gets sick of them and washes them for me. I am a sophomore. I am lazy. I am an idiot.
Freshman year both wore me out and made me 'smart'. I felt I'd figured out how to schedule my classes so that I could get my work done and still have plenty of free time. This free time left me comfortable and lead me to figure out what I could get away with skipping. In this I had the help of my good friends Scott and Mike. I watched movies, played video games, drank tons of soda, and spent time with Heather. Schoolwork was secondary. I was having a great time mortgaging my future. All was well.
Except for Eric.
You might remember Eric. Excitable fellow. Grand plans for himself. Freshman year we were buddied. He was crazy but I've never minded some crazy in and of itself. Goodness knows I'm not exactly normal by most people's definition. Sophomore year he freaked out on us. His initial argument was that our more casual attitude towards our schoolwork did not fit in with his plans for the future. This soon twisted and mutated into a quest to show my girlfriend that I was no longer worthy of her and that she should leave me behind for a more suitable companion, namely, himself. He embarked on a campaign to humiliate me, somehow figuring she'd be impressed with how clever he was instead of viewing him as some childish idiot, which she did. Considering I was already impressively idiotic at this point and she was still with me, I don't know what he thought would be enough to accomplish his goal.
Still, he tried. Boy did he try.
I have hair to my collar. My sideburns are super bushy and are connected by a thin beard. I am super skinny, just a shade above skeletal. I have a dozen t-shirts, which I cycle through in order, wearing them until either I can't stand them anymore or, more often, my girlfriend gets sick of them and washes them for me. I am a sophomore. I am lazy. I am an idiot.
Freshman year both wore me out and made me 'smart'. I felt I'd figured out how to schedule my classes so that I could get my work done and still have plenty of free time. This free time left me comfortable and lead me to figure out what I could get away with skipping. In this I had the help of my good friends Scott and Mike. I watched movies, played video games, drank tons of soda, and spent time with Heather. Schoolwork was secondary. I was having a great time mortgaging my future. All was well.
Except for Eric.
You might remember Eric. Excitable fellow. Grand plans for himself. Freshman year we were buddied. He was crazy but I've never minded some crazy in and of itself. Goodness knows I'm not exactly normal by most people's definition. Sophomore year he freaked out on us. His initial argument was that our more casual attitude towards our schoolwork did not fit in with his plans for the future. This soon twisted and mutated into a quest to show my girlfriend that I was no longer worthy of her and that she should leave me behind for a more suitable companion, namely, himself. He embarked on a campaign to humiliate me, somehow figuring she'd be impressed with how clever he was instead of viewing him as some childish idiot, which she did. Considering I was already impressively idiotic at this point and she was still with me, I don't know what he thought would be enough to accomplish his goal.
Still, he tried. Boy did he try.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Storytime
After departing Natalie's company, I collected myself a beer and went to join Scott and Sarah Jean at the grill. I was rebuffed. “Go and mingle,” Scott declared.
“I would like to have an opportunity to defend myself,” I responded.
Scott gestured mightily. “Go!” I complied. Scott is a big fella. Sarah Jean giggled at me as I walked away. Whatever.
The backyard had pockets of conversation. The seating had been arranged in an attempt to keep everyone together but the group was too big for that to work. The group had splintered into a half-dozen or so smaller groups chit-chatting away. When I saw the man in the lawn-chair sheltering in the shade of a large tree, I approached him. Grinning, I noted “I thought you were allergic to the sun.”
Mike looked up from the plate balanced in his lap, squinting at me. “There's a reason I'm under the tree ya know.”
Our conversation started with this good natured silliness. We quickly ran through a few standard comments, the 'been awhile', the 'good to see you', the 'answer your email occasionally' sorts of things. Once these were complete, Mike observed “I see you're still with the redhead. Excellent choice my friend. Admittedly she's at a distance right now but she looks hotter than I remember.”
“I don't know how you remember her but she is hotter than that.”
“And yet she hangs out with a slug like you,” he teased.
“Yeah, I don't get it either,” I joked in response. “How goes the writing?”
He gave me a Look. “We start filming next week. Dude, read your email.”
“Really?” He nodded. “I'm sorry, I dunno how I missed that. Been busy.”
“I'm sure you have been,” he responded. “I would be. If you gotta skip some of my notes in order to be busy with her then I understand totally. I'll write more for you to skip! I'm not like that!”
I found his rant entertaining until Sarah Jean began bounding our way. At that point, it suddenly became less entertaining. For some reason, I was afraid she'd hear him, which was silly. If she wanted to, she could pick it out of my mind. In theory she could pick it out of Mike's mind but I don't think she'd go there again unless she absolutely had to do so. Her energetic pace combined with her sassy expression combined with her low cut shirt was too much for Mike to keep silent. “I mean, come on!”
Apart from turning her smug smile to Mike for a moment, she ignored him, keeping her focus on me. She stared at me long enough to make the situation a bit uncomfortable. Before I could prompt her, she stated “I know about Kitty Frou-Frou.” Her grin that much more smug, she bounded back to the chortling Scott.
“No no no!: I protested. “Not cool!” Mike died laughing. “Jerk.”
I suppose now you want to know the story too. Jerks.
“I would like to have an opportunity to defend myself,” I responded.
Scott gestured mightily. “Go!” I complied. Scott is a big fella. Sarah Jean giggled at me as I walked away. Whatever.
The backyard had pockets of conversation. The seating had been arranged in an attempt to keep everyone together but the group was too big for that to work. The group had splintered into a half-dozen or so smaller groups chit-chatting away. When I saw the man in the lawn-chair sheltering in the shade of a large tree, I approached him. Grinning, I noted “I thought you were allergic to the sun.”
Mike looked up from the plate balanced in his lap, squinting at me. “There's a reason I'm under the tree ya know.”
Our conversation started with this good natured silliness. We quickly ran through a few standard comments, the 'been awhile', the 'good to see you', the 'answer your email occasionally' sorts of things. Once these were complete, Mike observed “I see you're still with the redhead. Excellent choice my friend. Admittedly she's at a distance right now but she looks hotter than I remember.”
“I don't know how you remember her but she is hotter than that.”
“And yet she hangs out with a slug like you,” he teased.
“Yeah, I don't get it either,” I joked in response. “How goes the writing?”
He gave me a Look. “We start filming next week. Dude, read your email.”
“Really?” He nodded. “I'm sorry, I dunno how I missed that. Been busy.”
“I'm sure you have been,” he responded. “I would be. If you gotta skip some of my notes in order to be busy with her then I understand totally. I'll write more for you to skip! I'm not like that!”
I found his rant entertaining until Sarah Jean began bounding our way. At that point, it suddenly became less entertaining. For some reason, I was afraid she'd hear him, which was silly. If she wanted to, she could pick it out of my mind. In theory she could pick it out of Mike's mind but I don't think she'd go there again unless she absolutely had to do so. Her energetic pace combined with her sassy expression combined with her low cut shirt was too much for Mike to keep silent. “I mean, come on!”
Apart from turning her smug smile to Mike for a moment, she ignored him, keeping her focus on me. She stared at me long enough to make the situation a bit uncomfortable. Before I could prompt her, she stated “I know about Kitty Frou-Frou.” Her grin that much more smug, she bounded back to the chortling Scott.
“No no no!: I protested. “Not cool!” Mike died laughing. “Jerk.”
I suppose now you want to know the story too. Jerks.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Glad to Be Here
“Oh good, you made it.” Idly rubbing at my pinch, I turned to see it was Scott's wife Natalie talking to me. I greeted her warmly and there was the exchange of a hug. “How are you?”
“I'm well. Yourself?”
“Tired. There's always so much to do to get ready for these parties.”
“In that case, let me now express my gratitude for all your efforts before I forget.”
She smiled. “Thank you.” She paused, watching her husband animatedly telling Sarah Jean a story. Sarah Jean was laughing, not one of those polite laughs but an 'oh my goodness, really?' sort of laugh. Whatever the story, I'm sure it's about me. “I'm glad he's enjoying himself. He's working very hard at work right now. The company says it's having trouble and...” She paused, then dispelled this downward trend in the conversation with a smile. “He deserves a good day. I'm glad you could make it.”
I smiled back. “So am I.”
“I'm well. Yourself?”
“Tired. There's always so much to do to get ready for these parties.”
“In that case, let me now express my gratitude for all your efforts before I forget.”
She smiled. “Thank you.” She paused, watching her husband animatedly telling Sarah Jean a story. Sarah Jean was laughing, not one of those polite laughs but an 'oh my goodness, really?' sort of laugh. Whatever the story, I'm sure it's about me. “I'm glad he's enjoying himself. He's working very hard at work right now. The company says it's having trouble and...” She paused, then dispelled this downward trend in the conversation with a smile. “He deserves a good day. I'm glad you could make it.”
I smiled back. “So am I.”
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Arrival
By the time we reached Scott's house, she had mostly relaxed. At the very least she was smiling at me again and gave my arm a bit of a squeeze as we approached the house. I know she knows I meant well.
We had to park a couple houses down the street due to the cars already present. As we walked up, the wind shifted, delivering the wonderful smell of burning charcoal and grilling meats. It was wonderful enough to draw a contented sigh from me. At the very least, we should eat well.
There was still a hint of nerves within me. What would my friends think of Sarah Jean? What would she think of them? More importantly, what would they tell her about me?
We weaved through the vehicles in the driveway, heading for the backyard as I'd been directed during Scott's call. The garage door was open, displaying tables of food as well as coolers that were overflowing with ice and beverages. Alongside the garage was a large grill and Scott working at it.
Upon seeing us, he grew very animated. Loudly calling out my name, he ran to meet us. I was wrapped up in a bear hug that took me off my feet. For a moment I was unable to breathe. Thankfully he didn't keep me long and I was soon back on the ground. While gasping for oxygen, I managed to introduce Sarah Jean. “Man o man,” Scott expressed. “Patrick may not date much but he sure does pick pretty gals when he does.”
I winced. It was starting already. Scott's seen me with, what, all of two young ladies and he says that. Considering how I'd managed to irritate Sarah Jean, I expected trouble. She smiled brightly up at him. “That you Scott. That's nice of you to say.”
He waved this off and made a dismissal noise. “Get some food and something to drink and I'll tell you about this guy.”
I sighed audibly, mostly for effect. “And I regret showing up already.”
Scott chuckled. Sarah Jean gave me that trouble grin and mentally noted “He's in a good mood, happy to see us, and has just enough beer in him to elevate his mood. He'll tell me whatever I want to know.”
“And if they're serving wine, you'll tell him whatever he wants to know.” I meant it to be funny, but I think it came across as more bitter than I expected. Still smiling, she stepped over to me, and kissed me on the cheek as she punched me on the arm. After I yelped, she mumbled “Behave” and, still grinning, joined Scott at the grill.
Ouch. Such a violent young lady.
We had to park a couple houses down the street due to the cars already present. As we walked up, the wind shifted, delivering the wonderful smell of burning charcoal and grilling meats. It was wonderful enough to draw a contented sigh from me. At the very least, we should eat well.
There was still a hint of nerves within me. What would my friends think of Sarah Jean? What would she think of them? More importantly, what would they tell her about me?
We weaved through the vehicles in the driveway, heading for the backyard as I'd been directed during Scott's call. The garage door was open, displaying tables of food as well as coolers that were overflowing with ice and beverages. Alongside the garage was a large grill and Scott working at it.
Upon seeing us, he grew very animated. Loudly calling out my name, he ran to meet us. I was wrapped up in a bear hug that took me off my feet. For a moment I was unable to breathe. Thankfully he didn't keep me long and I was soon back on the ground. While gasping for oxygen, I managed to introduce Sarah Jean. “Man o man,” Scott expressed. “Patrick may not date much but he sure does pick pretty gals when he does.”
I winced. It was starting already. Scott's seen me with, what, all of two young ladies and he says that. Considering how I'd managed to irritate Sarah Jean, I expected trouble. She smiled brightly up at him. “That you Scott. That's nice of you to say.”
He waved this off and made a dismissal noise. “Get some food and something to drink and I'll tell you about this guy.”
I sighed audibly, mostly for effect. “And I regret showing up already.”
Scott chuckled. Sarah Jean gave me that trouble grin and mentally noted “He's in a good mood, happy to see us, and has just enough beer in him to elevate his mood. He'll tell me whatever I want to know.”
“And if they're serving wine, you'll tell him whatever he wants to know.” I meant it to be funny, but I think it came across as more bitter than I expected. Still smiling, she stepped over to me, and kissed me on the cheek as she punched me on the arm. After I yelped, she mumbled “Behave” and, still grinning, joined Scott at the grill.
Ouch. Such a violent young lady.
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