misAdventures of Workmonkey 3.0

Here we are again. 4:34am on a Friday night. I tend to write best when I have had a few cocktails, and tonight is no different. I am, as always, by myself after a night of drinking. Tonight, we celebrated Kenny's 29th birthday. I give full credit to Kenny, as he did his best to consume as much alcohol as possible. He went to sleep on my couch at approximately 3:14 am, but at least he drank. For a man that is basically allergic to alcohol, I was quite impressed. As usual, I want to write about my dissatisfaction with the performance of my friends' ability to drink, or, at the very least, have a good time. I don't give a shit about the past or the future, but I am currently an expert on the present. And the present states that there are only three people out of my entire group of friends that i know I can drink with on any given night. J.C. , Masta P, and myself. I give full respect to Age and Amanda, as they have no interest in either drinking or staying out past the hour of 11 P.M. So they left on call. For some reason, Sy was drinking Sprite. Lee was driving, so I can understand his desire to stick to water. Since my brother came to visit me in San Fran, and noticed that my friends have a peculiar ability to talk a lot of shit but drink a whole lot of nothing, I have been a bit sensitive to the drinking performance of my circle of friends. I have also noticed that for some reason, my friends have an intense desire to act as if they are already 73 years old and on Social Security. I happen to be 26 years old, but feel as if I am living in a retirement home already. And I won't back down from my current statements, the blood alcohol content of my blood being no excuse for my mindstate. If anything, it encourages honesty. And honestly, I am feeling right now as if I am living a life of convenience and stablity, a life in which I will never do anything other than continue upon the same life of comfort and routine with which i now live. Everyone seems so afraid to break their routine, or to venture out and actually experience life, that nothing ever happens other than all the same things that have happened every other friday for the past six years. Regardless, I am not going to use this forum to insult anyone, or portray myself as someone other than the person I describe. All I will say is that we all better get on with death, because we sure as hell seem afraid to experience life.