When I kissed him hello, I smelled beer. I stepped back and looked at his clearly buzzing face.
Me: “Dude. Are you drunk?”
Beaker: “Not really – I only had four beers. Maybe five. Four or five.”
Me: “Wow. Getting a head start on your St. Patrick’s Day celebrating, huh?”
Beaker: “IT’S ST. PATRICK’S DAY?! I forgot! Yay!”
My dad and I had a great visit. He had to jet off to England right after, so the Third Annual JamieStar’s Daddy Entry will just have to wait. But calm down, Jamie’s Dad’s Loyal Fans – he assured me it’s a comin’. In fact, it’s been a while, and he asked for a reminder, so I should probably give him one.
I know how cliché and tired it is, but I have been BUSY. Work all day, with a meeting or other commitment almost every night. It’s funny, I was thinking about some people I haven’t seen in a while, and wondering what they’ve been up to… mid-thought, I realized that I don’t know because I usually only see them out – I haven’t been “out” in ages. I’ll go to a dinner party or event, but my ass hasn’t seen the inside of a bar in a couple of months now. So weird, especially for a lush like me. Oh, except for when my Dad visits. Those are censored nights, though – the usually debauchery is muted for parental effect.
And, because everyone loves ‘em, another Beaker story before I go.
He finally opens the brand-new electric toothbrush his mom got him, like, a year ago. I watch him gouge the package open, put toothpaste on the bristles, then… turn on the toothbrush as he’s moving it towards his pearly whites.
You all know what happens next, right? Typical rookie mistake:
The glob of toothpaste is shaken free by the circular motion of the bristles, landing with a nice PLOP on his clean shirt.
I point to his chest and laugh and laugh.
As he scrapes the toothpaste of his shirt, he mutters, “Great. THAT’S going to be on the internet.”
Prophecy = Self-Fulfilling.