teenage_dirtbag tender_square i'm riding in the back of gord's minivan with john. gord pulls over to park so we can hit up a tim horton's that doesn't have drive-thru. i can't close the sliding door properly; my yank is too timid or too forceful. the door won’t latch. gord comes around the van to take care of it. "don't you remember how you and me and rob and lauren used to all come here together?" i reminisce. "awwwwww." i am wistful. gord does not want to dwell in the past, though the past is the lens i peer through at present. the more i listen to myself speak aloud the more aware i become that i'm slurring. gord is annoyed. "did i upset you?" i press, knowing full well that i have. gord sucks on his cigarette. i walk towards john and he says, "don't mess with this guy," and thumbs back at gord. "ever since he started drinking with his neighbour, he’s at it all the time." john drags off a cigarette too. "dude fixes cars," he hits my shoulder as we climb the steps to the storefront. "he was going to fix my car. i went to his place and he says to me, 'you're going to pay me $17 per hour!'" i am astonished. "in tip?!" i cry. john says, "i told him i had to go to the bathroom and i bailed." the more john and i converse, the more i realize that i'm yelling. "jesus, i'm wasted!" i announce to everyone but mostly to myself. "and i only had one shot! i'm such a lightweight." 230611 what's it to you? who go blather from