Like High School, 80 Proof

I spent a few nights at home and got to looking through old yearbooks. I found my sophomore yearbook (the year my sister graduated), and I cried when I reread what she wrote. It kind of restored my faith in myself, at least temporarily.

Saturday night, we grilled out and then headed to the Italian Grill for some drinking and music listening. Whilst there, I had some fun with the bartender, whose name escapes me, which is a shame because he's quite attractive. I was sitting at the bar with Abigail, Chuck's four-year-old who happens to be the most adorable little redhead you ever saw.

"Can we get her a kid-sized beer? Put it in a sippy cup - we don't want her to spill it on her shirt."

He was more than amused.

Prior to going out, we called John and Linda, who were out of town, for some April Foolin'. We told them that we were at their house, using their grill, and asked if they had any beer in their fridge because "We don't want to try to pick this lock if you don't have any beer." I'm sure they're freaking out, but it was damn funny.

While we were drinking up a hefty bar tab, my mom was dancing (of course), and my dad was standing at the bar when I happened upon Michelle (our former Black Eyed Pea bartender), and Gretchen, of Hendersonville fame.

Me: "I can't take them out in public anymore."
Gretchen: "Is that your mom?"
Me: "Yes, and my dad is the Lord of the Beer."
Gretchen: "That's awesome."
Me: "I hope they don't think I'm driving. I drove last time - it's their turn."

This incited laughter from the table. My dad was wearing a shirt that said Lord of the Beer. I kid you not.

My dad has successfully caulked my car enough so that it no longer leaks in the rain. I'm more ecstatic than I can show via typing, especially because it's monsooning outside with the high possibility of tornadic activity.