Whiskey on a Friday Night In Cheyenne

I got schnockered on Black Label Whiskey last Friday night. Difficult to tell how much of an ass I was. My dad said liquor doesn't make you say anything you weren't already thinking. This is true. I haven't been schnockered in...a decade? That sounds right. I think my favorite bit of conversation was with a girl I had just met, M. who grew up in Cheyenne. I was telling her about yoga class at the Unitarian church and how to get there when she said that it was the old Mormon church that she had attended as a child. We talked about how funny it was to see this very proper and conservative church transformed into this gay friendly, Wicca- bedazzled new kind of church, at least that was my friend S.'s experience of it. S. had attended the Mormon church as a kid, also. Oh yeah, I remember her, M. said, didn't she get pregnant at like, 16? Yeah, I said, by her LDS Sunday school teacher. As a sidenote both M and I were pretty well drunk by this time. At least I was. I hope she was because the next thing she said was, Ohmygod, I totally remember him! (clutches heart) He was so hot!
That's the funniest thing anyone has said to me in a long time.
It's a funny thing about hanging out with new good folks, whose company you enjoy. It makes me miss all of my old friends almost painfully. Hough would have had a good time there. Jyn and I would have spoken fake German. Michael J would have had that pretty lawyer rethinking moving to Vegas. And so on.
This galvanizes my South Side Cheyenne Renewal Project. Houses are selling over here for 60, 70, thousand dollars. We have acces to a coffeeshop for readings, trains for dreaming and eventually, each other for company. C'mon people.