Friday "I done told you So!" Five

So my step son turned 21 today.

Happy 21st, I say, happy 21st.

I remember my own 21st birthday. I'd just finished a very long weekend, five shows in three days, and I wanted to go home and go to bed. My girl friend wanted to do something fun and exciting. We fought about it. I think I remember winning. Or losing. Doesn't matter. It was a non-event.

My step son is a lot more fun than I am. My girlfriend would have liked him a lot.

So he's out hitting the town, birthday money in pocket, surrounded, most likely, by the dissapointed girlfriends of premature curmudgeons, and about to make, what will hopefully be, a long line of bad decisions.

And, as his mature curmudgeon of a step-dad, it's essentially my god given duty to offer the kind of advice that he is most likely going to ignore:

Friday Five: I Told You So's:

Always plan an exit strategy. Designated drivers are hard to come-by, and you should never trust a disappointed girlfriend, not when tequila is involved, so make sure you know where you are and how you are going to get to where you want to end up. Keep the number of a taxi service in several different pockets, and add it to you favorite contacts list. 

Until you've been around the block a few times stay away from these three: Tequila, Gin, and Rum. Unless, of course, you would like to spend the next three days holding onto the carpet to keep from falling off the face of the earth.

You've never had a best friend like water. Drink lots and often.

You've never had a best friend like water. Drink lots and often.

Call your mother. She won't be mad, or disappointed, or put off, or even mildly irrittated. Not only will she be none of those things, she will be freakishly excited to come to the rescue, and will brag to all her friends and family how proud she is of having raised such a responsible adult. Nothing, and I mean it, nothing will make her happier than knowing you're safe.

You could call me too, but, well, you know, tequila.

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