So, I took my Boston Terrier, the fabulous Marcel Bernôn, to an out-of-the-way park on Sunday—as I often do—so he could have a little quality off-the-leash time. As I watched him act-a-fool, I was sipping an energy drink (the drug of choice of the recently sober).
A cop that was sitting in his vehicle, doing I-couldn’t-say-what, got out, walked up to me, and said, “Hey, that’s not a beer is it?” I replied, “No, it’s an energy drink, want to see it?” (He declined).
As he walked away, I thought how ridiculous it was for him to ask me that. After which I immediately thought how ridiculous it was for me to think that. A few years ago, there is a good chance it would have been a beer in my hand.
Life is weird.
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