My Chocolate Auf Wiedersehen
I sometimes wonder why people come to my shindigs; is it because of my sweet self or because I tag otherwise normal ski trips and Mexican dinners with cool titles? Perhaps I shouldn’t hope too hard for the latter, since the former is a much better reason, but who doesn’t want to be remembered as needlessly witty?
In fact, I won’t even be remembered as “That chick who can’t play pool,” since almost everyone I managed to invite was as bad as or worse than me at that particular frat boy activity. Except A-pants of course, who I think played an entire game of pool by himself while we stood around and waited our turns, or rather, watched.
Thanks everyone for turning up on such short notice to my little party in the burbs. There were sixteen of you, and I hardly expected five, knowing many of you were coming from far away and had animals to take care of (dogs and rats and horses and more). When Superstar told me, “That must have made you feel good!” I hadn’t thought of it that way, as it seemed like gloating about popularity, but I realized, it’s not like that at all — it’s good friends who care and make the effort to see me off on whatever crazy adventure I’m onto next, and that’s always something to cherish and be supremely happy about, no matter the weather.
Now, me unable to play pool (see the rest of us here):
