They took care of me this weekend.

The Lebers and I went out for drinks. We sat at the bar the entire time. No pool, no dancing, no pinball, no shuffleboard. Mostly just good conversation. Not exciting but fun, and more than that, I needed it. I split myself among white russians and gin & tonics glad that my stomach has an iron constitution. We stayed till 12:00 then I trolled the local haunt, talked to a too drunk girl about Steven King being sick. Wouldn’t be cool if he died in some super-scary (but painless) way, like eaten from the inside out by anesthetizing worms with fangs. And then went home.

The next day I went to go see the Lebers new house. It’s beautiful. Huge. Hip. And has a hottub. I’m jealous. They soothed my green monster with bowls of cheese dip, all the bloody mary’s and beer I wanted and a large screen TV playing local football and hockey all day. Later Mr. Leber made turkey soup for everyone. I seriously can’t remember the last time one of my friends (excluding family) have invited me over to their home for dinner without it being some sort of party or occasion. That hurts to think about, some I’m greatful for days like these. Tho, I can’t think of the last time I’ve done it for one of my friends either.