PostSecret. Pacing The Panic Room. Natalie Dee: "America's Favorite Cracker". Sex and Dating Blog. Richard handed me a rum swizzle, which he made using a secret family recipe (sounds like a family I’d like to meet). “What do you think?” I took a sip and shuddered. “I just had a college flashback.” “Is that good or bad?” I took another sip and smacked my lips together. “Good, I think.” Richard’s 29th birthday party was just getting started—the guests were trickling in and the boxed wine was chilling in the fridge. “So last year of your twenties,” I said. “I’m not drunk enough to get deep yet,” Richard said. I raised my glass. “To goal-setting and goal-meeting!” A few hours later, I was having such a good time that I almost didn’t have a panic attack when I felt a tap on my shoulder and I turned to see Peter standing in front of me.
“Hey.” I waved my hand, like it was no big thing, all the while peering over his shoulder to see if he had brought the girlfriend. “You did,” he said. “I left early,” I said. “I’m going to get a drink!” “Richard!” Richard raised his head to look at me. “Hey.” Cake Wrecks.