Yesterday Liz and I sat on her porch and drank vodka. (Editor's note: A lot of vodka). It tasted like lemonade and therefore was the perfect afternoon drink. We then convinced my boy to come and pick us up and drive us towards food. He obliged and we piled our drunk asses in his car and pointed it towards burgers. When pulling into the parking lot who was there? Why the drive by hickey boy of course. Standing in front of our spot. Staring at me with a look that can only be described as 'stricken'.
Try explaining to your boyfriend why that man in front of the car looks like he's about to pee his pants and is awkwardly waving. It's a fun conversation. Also fun is this:
- Hey, where's Liz? (we spot her in the distance) Why is she going into that other restaurant after the awkward waving guy? (realization sets in) Holy fuck.
Ten seconds later Liz appears, her face flush with happiness.
'Hey Liz, what happened?'
'Oh nothing I just hugged him.'
'Oh, nothing much. Just hi, remember me? I'm Liz.... then I told him I hope his dick falls off. Who wants an appetizer?'
And kids, that's why you should drink heavily on Sundays, just like Jesus intended.