Anyway, it’s one of those weasel words. You use it when you are trying to get out of something.
I mean, I’d totally do that job for you, but I can’t. I meant to tie that dock line securely. Well, anyway, how about those Bruins, Hey?

Successful use of these words depends on tone. Whine, and it fails. Speak confidently, and people believe you’d be there standing shoulder to shoulder with them under other circumstances: Solidarity forever and all that.

Anyway, there I was, explaining to my best partying buddy that one more holiday party bash would terminate me. I just needed a night off to recuperate from the recent round of pre-Chistmas parties and, now, the current string of Christmas parties. As clearly as my hungover mind could, I gathered the words to clarify that I’d crash out before New Year’s if I didn’t sleep. He insisted that I was condemning him to travel into the night of revelry with no wingman, a reduced coterie of buds dedicated to the absolute pursuit of pleasure. Yes, I said, “but, anyway, I’m taking the night off to get into bed early.” “You’re really going to go to bed early? It’s only Saturday night, man. The scene is jumping!”
My compatriots stood solidly behind him in a hazy and bilious cloud of alcohol vapor—too many nights of revelry. Already some of them were weaving back and forth on their feet to balance. I looked at them, then glanced back into my apartment towards the bedroom. “Yeah, it’s going to be early to bed tonight.”

Chad looked at me, I couldn’t see the bloodshot eyes behind the dark glasses, but I knew they were a bit glazed. repositioning his Santa hat on his head, he glared at me and said, ” OK man, but you’re really missing out!” Like a bunch of spiderlings riding the wind, they followed him onto the street and towards tonight’s revelry. I sighed in relief. “Oh, I don’t think so” I whispered.

“Are they gone?” asked Jennifer from behind me. ” At last,” I replied. ” Then what are you waiting for, lover?” I closed the door.

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