Tonight, our Blonde, chocolate-crazed, dog-obsessed, Kleptomaniac, psychopath of a friend, Danielle, invited us over to her home.
Unfortunately, Landon was a bit late to arrive, due to the mentally challenging, intellectually demanding, and nigh impossible task I set to him beforehand: Pick up ginger beer.
Now, I understand that ginger beer originated in the Victorian Era, and therefore his home town may not have acquired something so modern and contemporary yet.
And I realize that his masculine pride, finely trimmed beard, and general disregard for the value that others can provide likely prohibited him from asking for help or direction from a store clerk,
And I know that to some people, having the word “Beer” in the title of an object isn’t a good enough context clue to let them know that the liquor section would be a wonderful place to start looking for said object.
That being said, the panicked phone call at 7:15 (already 45 minutes late) asking what and where the ginger was, was not what I’d consider his finest hour.
Also, he’s a God Damn engineer.
Do better.
Landon Acknowledge Me 