The Champagne of Beers

I was standing in the driving rain staring at the largest waterfall in all of North America and I realized that I didn’t fucking want to be here.

Here I had driven 700 miles down from school with my best friend to rage, road trip, and “see about a girl” and I realized that I didn’t want to see about a girl. At least, not this girl.

There we were the three of us – me, Jeff, and the girl – standing in the rain, soaked to our asses and it was a beautiful moment. And I didn’t want to share it with her. Jeff’s my best friend; I didn’t mind him being there. Besides, it was his car we had driven down in. So I didn't have much choice in the matter.

But the girl? Fuck the girl. She was there at the rail waiting for me to walk over and put my arm around her; waiting for me to make that magical moment complete; just fucking waiting for me. And at then I knew I was tired of settling. She wasn’t the right one. She wasn’t good enough. She wasn’t interesting enough. She wasn’t fucking hot enough.

It was time to leave. So we dropped her off at home and Jeff and I went back to America. It was time for me to start over. It was time for me to find a girl worth pursuing. It was time for me to get really fucking drunk.

There was time enough for all that other shit in the morning.

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I've decided to make Ron Burgundy a Saint. Saint Burgundy of San Diego. I can do that, you know, I can do anything I want. And I will. Also I am making Jenna Jameson a Saint. Saint Jenna of Las Vegas. This is getting to be fun. The Dread Pirate Roberts is on the list of potential saints. Let me know what you think.

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"Now I know I imagined the world ... But why did I imagine it this way?"
- Professor Truth I. Sweetness, First Patriarch of the UnEnlightenment