MOM: how are you – long time no see
MOM: so, what have you been doing lately
ME: couldn’t we have done this verbally…especially since we are sitting less then 10 feet away from eachother
ME: i understand words are hard to form when you have a hangover
ME: but doesn’t the computer screen hurt your eyes?
MOM: i thought you were the chld who liked to use her imagination
ME: pssh…that was like fifteen years ago. I think I sold my imagination in college for a case of natural light.
MOM: actually, i was telling dad, I think rum is my drink
MOM: no hangovers, i don’t feel cloudy – great buzz. AA here I come
ME: ohhhhs lucky!
ME: maybe you could make some friends there
ME: i bet you’d find my friend dewey there
ME: then you could introduce us
MOM: i thought i saw him parked on the street thismorning
ME: in his car?
MOM: on his harley
ME: or on a lawn?
To clarify, my mom and I went to a bar to hear a band that my mom needed to see. Since I’m the most fun child (and the only one of a drinking age), I went with her. We met a few of my friends there, including Kristine, who, like me, appreciates polos, alcohol and sitting in judgment. We make a fine team.
I should preface by saying that I’m not a horrible snob. Just a regular one. While I may not be the hottest person at a bar, I always make sure I am the best dressed and the best groomed. Yesterday, for example. I had on wide legged khackis, a yellow lacoste polo, pearls and flip flops. Informal, yet cute. As we walked into the bar I realized I was dressed VERY wrong. Had I been wearing a cowboy hat, cutoff jeans and a 70’s shirt (or perhaps a tee shirt that said “I’m with stupid”), I might have fit in better. Oh, and had maybe six or seven tequila shots.
I have perfected the “bitch face” as I like to call it for when I am in a bar and only want to converse with the people I came with. With my ensemble and standoffish expression, I was easily the most elitist person there. As we looked around and people watched (and watched the gross leather wearing dude sitting next to my mother strike out every time he spoke to a woman), I pointed to a portly dude with a flannel, zz top beard and trucker hat and said to my mom “think i should go introduce myself to the future mr. stacey?”. she about died and I continued my observation (aka judgment) of the rest of the crowd. The band was pretty good…but when my mom asked if I was having a good time and I responded “well, it would be better if they played my favorite song,” my mom looked at me half-curious, half-terrified of what I would say. “Duh, ‘All I Need’ by Jack Wagner” (if you have never heard this song, I suggest you download it. now. You are missing out). “Think they know it??”
We then decided it would be a good time to leave.