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Friends make the meal.
Michael considered fate at 14:35   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment
Beer was consumed last night.

And not just any beer - Pabst Blue Ribbon beer.

The amount of pitchers that were purchased would require two hands full of fingers and then some toes to count.

The amount of empty cans decorating my apartment is astounding.

When you're measuring beer consumption in gallons, you know you've made it.. made it where, I'm not exactly sure.. but you've made it.

Last night was an exercise in practicality:

We drank till we were practically passed out. We drank till we were practically broke. We drank till we practically couldn't walk straight, the bouncer started looking cute with all that facial hair, and that light.. that light.. is that the sun on it's way? We drank till it was practically light out.

I'm not sure why I glorify drinking as much as I do, but there is something grand about good food, good drink, and good friends. They go together like coffee and cream. They mix. They make for a good time.

Friends, though, are what truly make the meal.

I can be anywhere, in almost any situation, and if a friend is by my side, I can be happy enough to keep my head up with my smile on as I take it on the chin.

Life has a way of getting you right on the chin and friends have a way of picking you up and dusting you off and stitching your cuts. Friends, in your darkest hour, will listen to your horrible ideas and nod their head when you need to talk and talk about the dumbest shit to ever cross your mind and then some.

A lot of dumb shit comes across my mind. A lot.

Friends will put up with your sizely asshole face, because they know you well enough to be able to side-step the shit you fling in their direction. Friends will let you know when you're out of line, knock you down, and still be there when you get back up.

In a world where everyone is so alone, so isolated inside their heads, the world is a very warm place...

When you have some friends.


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