Eventually John’s Horse Race voice started to waiver and people wanted to start doing other things and the game petered out a little. And as parties tend to do slowly the whole affair dwindled. Towards the end of the night just a few of us remained.

“I have to say Feeney. Not drinking looks pretty good on you.” John said as we lingered at the table. Cards and booze scattered every which way on the table. The smattered evidence of a party that was once in full swing. “How’s it feel?”

“Well” I said. Which is always how I start a sentence when I don’t really know where it is going to go when I start talking.

What the fuck am I going to say here? I have no clue how I feel.

“I guess it feels good. The pluses are fun. Not being hungover is cool. Making good decisions is something new for me.”

I’m really going to need to get a handle on how this feels so I can actually answer these questions. It’s like being terrified and pensive and exhilarated and tired all at the same time. It’s awful and amazing.

A mutual friend named Debbie was hanging around as well. She chimed in, “I quit eating meat for a while once. It was so hard.”

Thanks for that gem. Really a worthwhile contribution. Not at all pointless and kind of offensive. Debbie. What are you like 60? What kind of name is Debbie? Deborah? Deb? There’s no way for your name to not be stupid. Debbie. Be nice though Michael. You’re a nice guy now.

“Yeah I can imagine. Meat? No way. Quitting booze was easy. I could never give up on streak. And Big Mac’s. At the same time!”

Shit. I just blew my mind. Cook a steak. Cut it in half. Big Mac in between the two pieces. Steak Mac. Fucking BRILLIANT! If I ever got on at McDonald’s I could literally change the way people eat. Revolutionize the entire culinary world. But you can’t get into those kinds of jobs. It’s all so political. A maverick like me? No fucking chance. They’re too scared. It’s all bureaucratic. “The Man” can’t handle a genius mind like mine.

“It’s a shame you can’t just have one or two. Social drinks like a pint of Guinness with a buddy.” John rudely broke into my hilarious musings.

“I agree.” Said I. “That would be nice. Maybe one day that could happen? I don’t know. It seems unlikely though. It’s just not worth it. We still had fun tonight and I don’t think I need to be involved in the actually ‘swallowing the fermented liquid’ part to be a fun part of the proceedings. I ran that horse race like a champ tonight.”

“If only there was a way to monetize that skill.” he responded.

If only. *sigh* So many of my skills won’t make me money. Silently judging people. Like that guy Frank at the party tonight. With his bangs all long and combed out in a forward wave type scenario. It didn’t distract from his massive fucking nose the way he thought. If anything it did the opposite and pointed right at the beak in question. Mario Kart for Wii? Can’t make money from being a boss at that. Is there money to be made for having really good spatial awareness?

“What that there were John. What that there were.”

The rest of the night we chatted about even more trivial things. No more mention of my drinking or lack thereof. I think ultimately people don’t really know what to say and since I don’t have a great answer to their questions there isn’t much left to discuss.


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