Inside Jokes

It occurred to me yesterday that approximately 90% of the words that fall haphazardly out of my mouth are ill-advised inside jokes.

When it's just me and Adam, that's all well and good. But when you put me in a room full of my fellow Lincolnites, it's understandable that he apparently feels strangely alienated.

For a while, he's been saying that he feels "awkward" (and various other synonyms of a negative nature) when we go out with my friends; it makes sense that when we're sat there practically seething with sarcasm he doesn't know what to do with himself.

So, when I find myself surrounded friends and enjoying a frivolous Sunday Cocktail in Dogma with Adam laughing along with the rest of us, I felt strangely reassured.

I'm relieved that the atmosphere isn't as toxic as it was the first time they all met; the days of being saturated by silence have apparently passed.

I suppose it helped that the bar-tender grossly miscalculated the strength of my drink and filled a single cup of Long Island Ice Tea with as much rum as a pitcher. For a supposedly brown beverage it was perfectly clear, with only thin veins of colour streaking through the ice in flowing tendrils... so it was no small wonder that I spent the next hour giggling away like an air-headed school-girl on skunk.

Mind you, after a long day, I can't say that I didn't enjoy my trip to Long Island.

Incidentally, if you're advised not to mix drinks and cocktails are composed primarily of different spirits, are they designed purely to get people pissed?

That sounds like an awful marketing ploy.
But they wouldn't do that... would they?

Hmmmm, perhaps I should back to Dogma to 'investigate'.
_______________________________________