27 December 2005

aren't we all about sick of christmas puns by now?

A HOLLY, JOLLY OXYCONTIN CHRISTMAS

There must be some sort of tacit agreement between my parents, which confers upon each of them every-other-Christmas privileges to be on narcotics during the holidays. Last year, it was my dad, who herniated a disc in his back. This year, it's my mom, who did "something" to her back.

All I know is that they're not sharing their bounty of painkillers. Christmas is a time for GIVING, folks. Don't give me a candy cane and expect me to watch contentedly as you knock back those Percocets. Even peppermint candy is not a salve for listening to Grandma explain the nuances of denture-wearing.


LEON IS ONE OF THE WISE MEN, RIGHT?

Friday night I sat in a Crapplebee's restaurant for seven hours. If this seems like a punishment doled out to someone who pokes fun at her/his parents' back ailments, it truly wasn't. I sat with four old friends, reminiscing, joking and boozing. It was some much-needed fun.

It's interesting to drink with old friends, with whom you've never really drank before. Of course, my limited experiences trying to procure or choke down alcohol in high school did involve them, which is ever so fun to recall while legally sipping (or gulping) liquor. Alcohol filled in the gaps of our long-distance or receding friendships, propelling us past the awkward reunion stage.

Well, ok, maybe Hartman was still a little awkward—but he's always been that way. He makes up for it with a quick and hilarious wit. I can't exactly remember the night's kicker, but it involved a banana made out of clay. It didn't matter what was said or even if it was funny. Listening to and watching RGB convulse in laughter reminded me of why I so painfully missed my high school friends when I was in college. Even now, I crave the group dynamic we shared.

RGB stayed at my parents' house with me, along with his pet-sitting charge Pepé. In defiance of the new visitor, my dog Misha promptly peed on Pepé's dog bed. In response, RGB went upstairs and peed on my bed. Afterward, he gave in to tradition and rearranged the letters of my mother's NOEL blocks to spell LEON.

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