Several of my male friends – alla whom have children of their own – told me to just use the rum carrier.
Bryson: Leave the rum tag! That’s hilarious and will be a great story that we will be telling your son later in life. By the way, that bag is nicer than anything I own.
JJ: It’s who you are. You gotta do you, man.
GS: Don’t even trip.
TR: Rum container is genius
RB: Just put some Star Wars stickers over the logo…bam
It always bothers me to go against dispassionate logic – it’s actually the best item I have for the job at had.
So Nate went off to school the other day with his gear stuffed into rum bag with his name over the word “rum” and I went home thinking that I need a rule that ensures he’ll always be true to who he actually is.
Elle wrote me this long and sweet email that made me cry. She moved back to LA, got married, had two kids.
Her: Sorry it took me this long to write and reach out. I’ve been meaning to but each time I thought about it, I couldn’t get the right words.
Me: I want to write you more but I can’t. I’m a mess. I miss her. I miss you. I miss my old life. Everything. I am so very happy for you, though. You have everything I would have hoped for in my life.
That’s kinda how my life is these days. Sweet, sad, and nostalgic, all mixed up together.
And the occasional funny that makes me laugh if no one else.
Everyone finds having someone like me in their lives amusing – until it’s no longer amusing.
Him: My cousin is heading here for a few days. (thinking) Stay away from her, Logan!
Me: She’s 25 right? Don’t worry. I have a strict “no one below 27” rule.
Him: You just told me the last girl was 25.
Me: (shaking head) Well, it was more of an informal guideline back then.