There’s nothing as fine as having a few cocktails with friends on a Tuesday night. Of course, only if your friends can keep up with your heroic intake of alcohol. Perhaps I pushed them a little further than I should have last night and while my consequences seem minor, theirs may seem worse. I guess that’s the price you pay when you decide to “rock out” to Van Halen on the jukebox.
I’ve never been a Van Halen fan. I’ve nothing against them personally and I’m sure they’re lovely drug addled rock stars, but I was always more of a punk and a punk I shall forever be. I just can’t bring myself to enjoy Van Halen or any of those types of bands. I can’t even tolerate it on an ironic level; it’s like knives on a chalkboard for me.
So I guess the combination of alcohol and lame rock might have brought out the worst in my drinking companions. It’s my fault for sure and I suppose I shouldn’t have treated them so roughly, but frankly, they asked for it. And if there’s anything I’ve learned; it’s entirely within your power as the individual to say, “No”, especially to Van Halen on the jukebox.
Speaking of banging one’s head, I feel like I’ve been banging my head against the brick wall of female complications. I’ve been sweet, kind, nurturing, fun, pleasant, open, honest and mostly cool and I still can’t seem to get anywhere and that’s really confusing. If it’s confusing to you dear reader, just imagine how I feel. She’s a freaking island and I’ve got no boat. As Al Green said, “I can't get next to you, babe, can't get next to you.” I think The Temptations might have had the same problem.
Now that’s music to drink and bang you head to.
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