Friday, May 15, 2009


Mommy took me to a bar for a surprise birthday party for our friend Steve. She had me strapped to her in her Ergo, and we were in there for about an hour. It was dark and it smelled of Anchor Steam. There were people there mingling with each other while drinking out of glasses. And the Mets-Giants game was playing on a TV in the corner.

And yet, this felt odd.

I mean, I'm just seven months old. I don't have any idea to prove that I'm 21. Heck, I can barely pass for 1. I have no idea how I got in. I was severely underdressed. And although I have serious game with chicks my age, and although chicks in their twenties do dig me, I don't have enough game to seal the deal. Like I said, I'm just seven months old.

Not that I'm complaining. Bars seem fun, probably a lot more fun when I'm older.

I can't wait to go to one when I'm older and lie later to my parents about my whereabouts.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Wyatt, don't forget ... when you come home late from the bar and your parents are geared up, just ask your dad why they have pockets on pajama shirts ...