This Indian became my good friend last night. Apparently, the outcome of a night out drinking with my cousins involves me hanging all over a wooden indian and then enjoying a solo fifty minute taxi ride back to my house while I make my friend Matt sing to me on the phone.
My cousins have always been a part of my social life. Growing up, they were an important part of the baby pool/peanut butter sandwich routine that was my summer. I've always looked forward to holidays so we could all hang out. And since I can remember I've spent a week at the beach with the entire family, swimming and walking and gossiping with my cousins. Good times.
And now we're grown up and, for the first time, many of us live close to each other. So the social activities have grown and morphed a bit.
I could keep up with my guy cousins swimming. I could keep up with them playing softball on the beach.
I cannot keep up with them drinking.
Hence the intimate relationship with the wooden Indian.
5 comments:
I win.
Dude. I probably could not keep with your cousins either. But at least I could make out with one of them.
You loved the liquid cocaine, admit it. Oh yeah, and I win too.
I believe the liquid cocaine left me beating on the bar, yelling at the bartenders: "IF YOU DO NOT BRING ME WATER, I WILL VOMIT ON YOUR BAR."
So, sure. You win.
Wow, I completely forgot about that part, but it definitely happened, and was AWESOME. Also, you are not alone with the wooden indians, they are also friends of mine, though I have been thrown out of there before for punching one of them.....
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