I got wicked milk breath right now. Over-spilled milk in my coffee this morning and drank it anyway, and now I regret it, like a lower back tattoo. No, too easy. I regret it like perfect attendance. I regret it like SPF 4. I regret it like not taking that job in Ireland eight years ago. I regret it like letting haters win. I regret it like donut number four, like blacking out around hot men, like working late, like rum and Dr. Pepper, like 4am bars and waking up with your pants on the porch, like the feeling in your gut after you watch a full episode of Toddlers and Tiaras, like when you take a blog break after a particularly depressing post, like when you're hungover and you seriously fuck up band practice.
We got the band back together. Half of the band. And we're not doing original songs anymore, this is strictly for one show and we're covering Adam Ant, and I am awesome at "Stand and Deliver".
It's obvious that we're old because everyone was all, "Hey, let's have band practice on Saturday mornings" and no one groaned their dissent. But I sure fucked up this last Saturday morning, and I showed up sloppy and still drunk from the night before and I couldn't harmonize for shit, and then I felt intense guilt because honestly, what doesn't make me feel guilt, and since when did people get angry at fucking rock stars for being fucking rock stars? I'm all, "sorry for partyin" and kicking ass at everything except for one thing that is very important so stop hating, haters.
No one was angry with me, though. They were all understanding and adult about it. God, when did my friends become so tolerant? Should I be glad they are growing as people, and realizing that they take shit too seriously, or angry at their complacence? Perhaps I should be drunker next time and we'll see what happens.
If I try to be the enemy, does that make me a dick?
Being grown up is hard.