I can never go there again.
Sacramento isn't as horrible as I remembered. Public transit and the sprawl made things difficult as a teen is all.
I know that I make it difficult to be my friend, but I expected more of my high school comrades. The ones who had the time weren't willing to leave their houses; the others didn't bother to return my call.
House number one. The arrival: 4 dudes in varying states of undress and 49ers gear. Apparently the plan is to watch the game. Okay. "Do you have any booze? Because I'm gonna need to drink." He brings some jokes, the one-man show tirades that I loved him for. Ultimately I end up caving to the peer pressure that hasn't eased since high school, take a hit from the bong and promptly want to die for the rest of the evening. This eases only slightly when I yack on his driveway.
Having seen the bachelor bathtub, I opt for a Motel 6. I wake up only once with terrors of bedbugs. That's until I wake up the next morning, with my brain still angry about last night.
House number two. I manage not to pet my old schoolmate's child. I might not even refer to him as an "it" again, now that it talks. Oh, wait.
Discussions of perpetual unemployment and failed community classes ensue. And then alcoholism and house arrest and the ins and outs of the legal system as learned from personal experience. I know I said that ambition isn't important, but its reverse is still disappointing.
Lessons learned: my car can go 75mph for an hour and a half, my sweet new rollerblades fit, racism still exists (and in people I know), I would have more boyfriends if I lived in Sacramento, and Jimboys is delicious, Not that I didn't already know that Jimboys is delicious.
I know that I make it difficult to be my friend, but I expected more of my high school comrades. The ones who had the time weren't willing to leave their houses; the others didn't bother to return my call.
House number one. The arrival: 4 dudes in varying states of undress and 49ers gear. Apparently the plan is to watch the game. Okay. "Do you have any booze? Because I'm gonna need to drink." He brings some jokes, the one-man show tirades that I loved him for. Ultimately I end up caving to the peer pressure that hasn't eased since high school, take a hit from the bong and promptly want to die for the rest of the evening. This eases only slightly when I yack on his driveway.
Having seen the bachelor bathtub, I opt for a Motel 6. I wake up only once with terrors of bedbugs. That's until I wake up the next morning, with my brain still angry about last night.
House number two. I manage not to pet my old schoolmate's child. I might not even refer to him as an "it" again, now that it talks. Oh, wait.
Discussions of perpetual unemployment and failed community classes ensue. And then alcoholism and house arrest and the ins and outs of the legal system as learned from personal experience. I know I said that ambition isn't important, but its reverse is still disappointing.
Lessons learned: my car can go 75mph for an hour and a half, my sweet new rollerblades fit, racism still exists (and in people I know), I would have more boyfriends if I lived in Sacramento, and Jimboys is delicious, Not that I didn't already know that Jimboys is delicious.
