Hella Stella

It occurred to me recently that my lack of a social life may be the reason behind my inability to talk about anything except Morty.

Granted, Westfest was a shining exception to the rule, as were my two very short rehearsals with the band and the occasional brunch. But otherwise? It's hard to make yourself go out when you've got an ever-expanding puppy missing you at home.

As such, I was pleased when I had the opportunity to go to the Highlander for their trivia night with some friends earlier this week. I'm not a rabid fan of trivia, but I don't mind it, and I quite enjoy drinking beer while I pretend to understand the questions being asked of me. I don't know what I was drinking, but it was a dark ale that tasted a bit like coffee. My pints disappeared quickly, which was odd, seeing as how I am a notoriously slow beer drinker.

I digress.

It didn't take long for me to realize that I a. was getting drunk quickly and b. am very bad at trivia. Andi appeared to be in the same boat, and we giggled our way through the first round, convinced that the time would come for us to shine through the trivia-induced cloud. We did shine, although not quite where we wanted to. Andi turned out to be a specialist in the "televangelist" category, while I strutted my stuff in "opera." Instead of wallowing in feelings of dorkiness, we ordered another pint. The night ended not long after I announced to Andi that I felt a sudden urge to buy a fancy push-up bra "so that my boobs can be right up around my face" (she nodded solemnly and said she would like one too).

If this is how I behave when I get to have a long-awaited "social outing," I don't really want to know what's going to happen when I reach the open bar at my cousin's wedding next month.

(Actually, this post is a little short on Morty content, so for all of you addicted to my chubby pup, I introduce: HIS VERY OWN YOUTUBE CHANNEL)