Party Party Party

I went out with some folks from work last night. We went to this little neighborhood bar full of corporate lesbians, yuppy freaks, a Fraggle, a Tae Kwon Do guy, two 5 year-olds, some guy who yelled at the top of his lungs at the silent sports program on one of the bar tv’s, one horrific toupee and us. We refrained from talking about work for the most part, which is a first for us.
It was fun. I don’t go out with them as often as I’d like, but they’re a fun group. There were dirty jokes, good-natured mocking, stupid puns, and much laughter.
I’ve been thinking recently about my glaring lack of friends that I hang out with. My works friends are cool, but I don’t hang out with them much outside of work. There’s the occasional party, but I’m the married guy with the kid. I’m younger than most of them, but I’m not the party-bar-hopping type. So, I don’t join them on their crazy escapades.
I’m not really sad about all of it. I’m OK with it. Jen and I have a lot of fun together. Max is a ball. We hang out with my family a lot, which isn’t bad. Oh, it used to be. I wouldn’t be caught dead “hanging out” with the fam. Now, it’s just part of life, and we have fun.
I have no idea why I’m writing this. But there you go.

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