Tonight I came to the realization that I may slowly be entering the oft-dreaded period in any blossoming young adult’s life: the period of time when getting mind-blowingly tanked begins to become less and less of a consistently viable form of social interaction. Which means my previous three main points of conversation (1. Talking about how drunk I am; 2. Talking about this one time I was drunk; and 3. Talking about how drunk I am about to get) are beginning to fail increasingly in their ability to establish things like bonds and friendships. This currently leaves me only with the “Wow, my job sure is boring” approach to sparking something, ANYTHING, inside the people who are nice enough to humor my progressively painful struggle for the moment.
Like, when the hell did everyone develop interests, am I right?
*EDIT: I promise I’m not an alcoholic, not even in the “Hey, I’m going to joke about being an alcoholic because I’m not one but really I secretly am, that’s why I’m joking about it” way. I just left college too early and haven’t quite yet caught up development-wise with most of the people around me. It’s kind of like that old show Smart Guy, with T.J. Mowry, except with less intelligence, more sadness, and much more access to alcohol.