“Brett’s scared of lightning.” my wife Lauren tells our group, while I look like I want to curl up into a fetal position.

In between lightning flashes, all I can think about is the made-up conversation these people are having in their heads. So let me get this straight… your husband doesn’t drink, he doesn’t do any fun recreational drugs, he no longer eats, and now with this lightning, he’s a complete wimp?

Well, he is a good designated driver when he’s not taking Xanax. And he has a bizarre sense of humor which you will really appreciate when you’re under the influence.

“Lauren should really just commit you to a nursing home already,” my friend says.

“Sounds good to me,” I reply. “I like those little ice creams they give you on your tray.”