Teenage angst grows stale with age. Like brandy.

I have discovered a wonderful thing about being an adult. All the things you tried to desperately hide from your parents as a teenager become completely null and void and become dinner table conversation.

Like this:

Me: So when I was in year 10 and we were at Sorrento and I found a bottle of brandy in the desk so I stole it.

My mother: Really?

Me: Mmm. I took it to a party and then when my friend ran out of alcohol she said do you have anything to drink and I said, hey, yeah, I have this bottle of brandy, do you want it? and she drank it and got really sick and then her boyfriend got really mad at me that my brandy made her sick and I’m all hey she chose to drink it I have no responsibility for what happened afterwards.

My mother: Did you drink any of the brandy?

Me: Oh no. I was smoking bongs.

My mother: Oh.

Image from Salt Lake – the magazine for Utah. Which, incidentally, sounds rad.

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