My dad's been getting really mad at me for drinking a bunch of beers. I've been getting really into beers by the way. He tells me I gotta rein it in, and I get what he's saying. The bubbles aren't so good for your digestion and all that. Unless you have a tummy ache. In which case, bubbles are good. I think my grandma taught me that when I kept puking to get out of going to school because my gym teacher kept making me put on deodorant after The Boys would hose me down on the soccer field. Anywhoo he says I won't be able to go over to Todd Filligree's backyard torch party if he has to get one more call from Home Depot letting him know I'm in another trance watching the little TVs they got on the fridges.
Last week, they were showing No Country For Old Men. I hate to say it, but my old man had to drag me out of there. I was hoping to make it more of a struggle since I know mom leaving has left him feeling a bit purposeless, and old men love exerting physical dominance over their kids. My grandpa taught me that when my dad beat him at the speedbag game at the pub. It was a real shame to see how far a man could fall from grace when he pitched a skee ball at my dad's head. Regardless, it wasn't much of a struggle. He just loaded me up in the shopping cart like a little bundle of lumber. I'll be real it was honestly kind of cozy. He's such a nice dad.