Epitola · Posthumus

Before I begin my rambling thoughts, I would like to say that I am so sorry that so many people were hurt, not just the victims, but their families as well. May the thoughts and prayers of myself and the rest of the world be a small comfort in this time of great grief.

That being said. . .

What makes a person commit murder? What drives a person to end life, his own or another? I can't speak for everyone else who has ever wanted to or has succeeded in committing suicide, but I know that there is a pit of despair that seems endless and too dark to navigate. I don't know if the young man, Cho, left he was in this pit, but I am led to assume as much from what I have read in the media about his writings and his personality.

Of course, these may be greatly exaggerated versions of the opinions of his acquaintances, but this exaggeration is only natural given their shock and grief. As to the fact at hand, he did kill 32 people and injure several others before taking his own life. His reason for taking others with him will never be fully known or understood.

It saddens me to know that in this time of over-medicating and numbness, there are still people who genuinely need help. These people do not seek help for reasons known only to themselves, which leaves me to speculate as to what those reasons are. My only conclusions are that there is still a horrible stigma attached to the status of a person's mental health and the need to seek help to improve said health.

Why is it that people still believe that it is a flaw in one's character and a shame to one's family to need and accept help? Why do people still believe that we should all be self-sufficient when it come to mental health? Why is it that counseling and medication are still a taboo to so many people? Do they never feel the need to talk to someone about their problems? Do they never feel overwhelmed?

As a person who has believed this taboo and bought into the small-minded mentality that one should always keep one's problems to oneself, it saddens me to know that there is still such a strong current of belief in this stigma. While knowledge and education will help many, over time, to understand the true working of the mind and the need for a little help every now and then, it will never be enough as so many people still, especially in this time of pop culture and glamour, concern themselves with the opinions and gossipings of others.

There is a great lesson to be learned from this horrible act, which will be eclipsed be the media's need to gore-ify this act and sensationalize the reports of what happened in the name of ratings. The lesson the world should learn form this tragedy is that every person feels the pressures applied by the media, peers, parents, and oneself; and that there is no shame in asking for help. "No man is an island."

Lyndsie finally turned 21. We, of course, went to Bourbon. Her mom got us a really nice room at the Chateau. CJ, Nick (a friend of Lyn's from high school), Lyn, and I crashed there. Thank the heavens they gave us two queens. I didn't have to worry about kicking CJ.

After we checked in and settled things in the room, we headed to the Pub & Parade to meet up with Michael and Stephanie (the coolest people at the Paul Mitchell school in Slidell). They were tearing up the dance floor when we got there.

After a few drinks by our favorite Bourbon bartender and Lyn's complimentary bottle of champagne, we headed out to make the rounds. Our first stop was Pat O's. They have a new drink made with lemonade and rum that is so good, even picky CJ loved it. After we bought drinks and glasses, we headed off to do more damage along the way.

We wound our way through the sex shops and t-shirt stores, in fron to f which Michael and Steph gave Lyn her birthday licks, before we finally ended up at Bourbon Cowboy. This is where they have actual saw dust on the floor and a mechanical bull.

Of course, I told Steph that Lyn needed to ride it since she was the one who wanted to go there and because she had been talking about it all week. So, Steph and Michael take the lead, pay for the rides, and let the guy working it and the DJ know that it was her Big 21st.

Steph went first so that Lyn could drink down some more courage. She didn't really stay on for more than two seconds at a time (three turns to a ride). Lyn got an extra round for being the birhtday girl. She also got to use the bull as a giant vibrator. The guy oporating it jacked it straight up and just vibrated it for a few seconds. What does Lyn do at this point, you ask. She rolls her hips and grinds on the bull.

After everyone recovered from the softcore, Michael's turn was up. He managed to keep his shoes on, and used them to his advantage. He was able to stay on for a couple seconds longer than anyone else we had seen ride the bull. I would say he got a full 6 seconds out of the deal on his third ride.

After the rides were over, we settled in at the bar only to find out that the bartender was a rude bitch. Needless to say, we left and headed back to the Parade and Jacob's drinks.

On the way back to our favorite bar, favorite bartender, and favorite drink, Michael and Steph danced. I mean, they danced the whole way back. It was great. They were droppin it in the middle of the street and everything.

Once we settle in on our might-as-well-be-reserved stools, I decide to medicated with alocohol as my feet and legs were killin me. so, I sucked down four drinks, which were more like six or eight with Jacob doing the mixing.

After I was thoroughly sloshed, we headed to the Clover Grill to mix some muc needed bread and grease on all that booze. Steph, Lan, Nick, and I ate whle CJ and Michael went across the street to have a couple more cocktails.

After the food was hoovered and the goodbyes were said, Steph drove Michael home while we walked the three blocks to the room where much makeup and Bourbon Street crud was scrubbed from our faces and teeth before we all settled into our pajamas and beds.

Not long after we all crashed, I awoke to a Charlie Horse in my left leg. I hobbled to the bathroom to work it out and not wake anyone else with my wimpering and moaning. After a good thirty minutes of trying to rub it out only to have it come back stronger, I decided that medication is needed to work this bitch out.

So, I swallowed my pride and had Nick, who was still awake, get CJ up. He calls the desk and asks for the nearest twenty-four hour drug store and tells them to get the car out.

Now, it was four thirty in the morning, we were all still buzzed, Lyn was sleeping through all the commotion, and I sent poor CJ out into the city alone. He went to the place the desk clerk told him, only to find out that it was an all night deli, not a drug store. So, he rode around to all the drug stores he knew of, but they were all closed.

By the time he got back, my muscles had relaxed enough to allow me to sleep. I was exhausted, but I stayed awake until he returned. I wasn't about to go to sleep when I was the reason he was out there in the first place. He returned, and we finally died.

In the morning, we decided to go to Cafe Dumonde, but the rest of the city had beat us there. We couldn't find a parking space within 4 blocks of the place, so we nixed that idea in favor of Raisin Caine's in Slidell.

Once home, everyone dragged their assesout of my car and into their own whilie i dragged my fat ass up the stairs and into my bed only to find that while I had a few hours to sleep, sleep would not come to me. So, I rested with my legs up and my head down until it was time to get up and get ready for the Hinder concert I was going to in New Orleans with Lyn.

After getting ready and printing directions, I scooped up Lyn and headed back into the city to the opening night of a venue called the Sugar Mill. It was fairly easy to find as it's located directly across the street from the convention center.

The place is actually an old sugar mill and courtyard that has been gutted and refinished with an alluminum front complete with hanger style doors, new bathrooms that included hot water, soap and bathroom attendants, an AC system that kicks ass, and a balcony VIP section.

They had booze, soda, and food vendors, ticket and ID checkpoints, and port-a-potties set up in the courtyard which still has cobble stones and brick walls covered in ivy.

The opening bands sucked major ass. They didn't have their audio adjusted very well, the lead singers choked the mics, and they didn't work the crowd. This was only a minor disappointment as many opening bands suck. One of them actually had a song that I recognized from the radio, but I don't know the name of the song, and I had a hard time understanding the words when played live.

Anyways, that was our weekend. Well, there is more to it, but I'm tired of typing.



3/20/07 11:47 PM Lyn's birthday post continued. . .



We found a clean spot of floor right by the staircase leading to the VIP balcony and decided to sit/stand there. When I asked the security guard if he minded, he said that it was cool. He even offered to help my fat, crippled ass up, if I needed him.

After a few songs, Lyn decided that we should go outside for a bit. After I peeled my big ass up off the floor, I told the security guy to hold my seat. He laughed and said he would.

So, Lyn and I decided to sit outside on the flowerbed walls and smoke (No smoking inside, but everyone did anyways.) and rest our aching feet. We could still here them loud and ummm un-clear.

We watched some guy yack in the middle of the courtyard. (Did I mention that the courtyard is in closed to the street by a wrought iron fence? Well, it is.) WE saw a bbw in a pink outfit and jeans with pink sequens and butterflies on them. I fawned over the outfit, and Lyn went and told her that I fawned over her outfit. We ended up chatting with the pink lady and her friends for few minutes.

After we moved on to our own spot on the wall and our own conversation, Kyra found us. She introduced us to her friend who's name I can't recall. We hugged and chatted before she and her friend took their leave of us to wiggle and squirm their way back to the front of the crowd.

After a couple more cigarettes and some people watching, we left the wall and moved inside as Hinder was finally taking the stage. We went back to our spot, which the semi-cute security guy had indeed saved, and hung out for a bit.

Once we heard the opening guitar rifts, we were both on our feet, singing and swaying to the music of By The Way. . . and every other song they played. Of course, we moved around and went to the bathroom and got more beer for Lyn (She had 7 huge beers total.)

We were sitting on the ramp to the ladies bathroom when I heard it. That's right, I heard the beginning of Room 21. I grabbed Lyn's arm and ran, yes ran, to the side of the stage and began to weave ina nd out of people until I was close enough to really see and still far enough away to not get other people's sweat all over me.

Just as the song (and me) is about to climax, they use the transition for an interlude and introduce the fucking band!!! ARG!!! Who cares? We all know who you are. We're here. Just finish my damn song!!!

Alas, there was to be much Tom Foolery before they would finish the song, and by then, I was over it. It was like sex when you're just about to get off and the phone rings. You never really reach that climax again. It kinda sucked. Ok, it blew.

The only saving grace in the interlude was the fact that some fat guy with enough hair on his body to look like he was wearing a sweater shaved into said hair: I ? HINDER. Did I mention that he was wearing only a Spedo and sneakers???

Then, during the same damn interlude, they had a damn water gun fight on stage. Then they had to dry everything off and water the band members. It just took forever. It was kinda funny. OK, it was funny. I still would have rathered hear the song right.

So, I decide that I'm kinda almost done and that I'm going to sit outside for a bit. Lyn didn't have to, but she came out with me. So, we sat there while I hot-boxed away some of my frustration and relaxed back into the music.

As the show was almost over anyways, we start talking about it. Lyn's getting a little pissy because they haven't played Get Stoned. Now, I know that it's going to be the encore, but she's not sure.

I get up when I hear them begin to say thank you and all the usualy end of show BS. Instead of walking away from the venue, I push her back inside it just as they begin her song. She cums all over herself and sings at the top of her lungs.

As soon as the song ends, we turn around and haul ass to the car, which was parked in the lot next to the venue. We made it out of the lot and onto the road before the damn venue was half empty.

Lyn was screaming at the top of her lungs that, "Hinder just sabd 'Get Stoned' to ME!" repeatedly. A few times, she added, "and 'Room 21' to you!" It was funny for the first 20 blocks. . .

Instead of heading to the interstate and home, we cut through the city to go to Chalmette because her mom is at a big pig roast down there. We get into Chalmette when Deb calls to saythat everyone is going home and that we should just go do our own thing.

I was already in the damn Parish!!! I could smell the stink that is Chalmette. I hadn't been there in over two years. Now there I was driving through what used to be Chalmette with a very plastered Lyn who was no longer screaming but still repeating the abovequoted line.

So, ok, we head to the interstate and decide to stop off in Slidell for some much needed food from Taco Bell. Tacos and Chalupas later, we decide to go to the bar because we are both too wired to go home.

We get to the bar and fuck around with Steve for a few minutes before settling into our favorite stools by the door. We weren't there ten minutes, when Chris, the bar manager, starts ordering Lyn and me shots of Grey Goose and Hypnotiq, which I loved.

Lyn doesn't do shots. Lyn doesn't do hard liquor. Lyn does Bud Light, plain and simple. So, naturally, they went straight to her already pickled brain. This was only the beginning as Chris then, as my request, tells the DJ to announce her birthday.

Of course, more drinks and shots were bought. Only Lyn was smart enough to pass on the shots and stick to the beer. That means I got her shots, which was fine by me.

Not long after this, some guy walked into the bar and right between us to place an order. While waiting for the bartender to get to him, he decided to check out the person he had wedged himslef against at the bar.

Apparently, he was as more drunk than Lyn. He took one look at her and forgot about placing an order. He forgot that he was in a bar and that there were other people in the bar, including his three friends.

Before I knew it, they were kissing and talking in between kisses. his cousin manages to pull him off of her for a quick conversation, but he wasn't about to let her go. He kept his hand on her neck and/or ass the whole time.

I got stuck talking to the guy who was driving the cousin around. As it turns out, the cousin is also cousins with Larry Flint. He even looked like him. The guy I was talking to was/is a producer who's putting on some big country music show.

We chatted about the show while the other two argued over something and the one groped Lyn. After a while, the producer took the Flint guy home and left Lyn's guy and his ride, who was talking to some other people and Steve.

I decided that I couldn't watch those two suck face anymore, so I headed to the other side of the bar to hang out with some of the regulars and employees, all of whom wanted to know if he was Lyn's boyfriend and all of whom were shocked to find out that they had just met.

After a few minutes, I bopped back around to Steve and Lyn and resumed my stool. I wasn't there two minutes when my friends from the other sie of the bar started sending me drinks of sympathy. This kinda tickled me and kinda made me want to die of embarrassment.

I bopped back and forth for a while before Chris comes and gets me. He tells me that Lyn has the guy on the pool table with her tongue down his throat and her hand down his pants.

Of course, this isn't allowed, no matter who you are, so I was given the task of reigning in drunken Lyn. I get her to sit up and get off the table before I go talk to make-out boy's DD about taking him out of the bar so that I could do the same with her. He agrees, but the guy doesn't, so I convince Lyn that it's time to go. With Lyn gone, the guy would want to leave.

I had Lyn in the car, and he had Dude walking away from the bar when Lyn realized that she had dropped her phone somewhere in the bar, probably by the pool table. She went back to the bar while I waited in the car.

Dude saw this and went in the bar after her. ARG!

Lyn managed to grab her phone and make it back out of the bar with Dude in under two minutes. She put her number in his phone and his in her phone. She told him she was leaving and turned him over to his friend.

Finally, we left the bar and headed home as we had decided to forego our normal trip to Waffle House. I rolled into bed somewhere around 5:30 in the morning and died.

The End!

Lyndsie finally turns 21 this Friday. She wants to go out, but has not said where, exactly. I was thinking of taking her to Pat O's, The Tropical Isle, The Cat's Meow, and a few other places she has been unable to access. I was also thinking of taking her to peak in Rawhide and The Dungeon since she's kinda curious. I'm not sure. I just know that this weekend will make number two in a row that I have to cart her drunk ass around. Did I mention that she is not the best drunk in the world? She gets all depressed about not having a boyfriend, since she can't fucking breath when she's single. I end up having to be her man toy substitute, which is fun on most days, but when she's drunk and moody, Jesus Christ, she can be a pain in the ass.

I guess I shouldn't complain since she conned her dad into paying for us to go see Hinder Saturday night. I'm excited, but I'm a little worried. I'm too damn old to do two nights of New Orleans in a row. I'm hoping the fact that I'm not drinking either night will help. I see lots of Full Throttle in my future.

So, I threw Steve and Jen a housewarming party on Saturday. It was a fucking disaster. Lyndsie bailed on helping me. CJ showed up two hours late. Jen didn't want to get off the floor to help. I end up throwing a screaming fit before I settle into Fuck It mode and get shit done. I finally convince Steve to let me drive the GT Convert, and I get the damn thing stuck before ever leaving our property. Mom yelled at everyone who didn't help, didn't want to help, helped slowly, gave me a headache, and caused me mental anguish. I heart her for this. We may bitch and piss about each other, but we always take up for each other. Call Erin, got my backbone put back into place and a nice slap in the face to buck up. Thanks Lovey! Ended up being an ok party. Most of Jen's friends bailed on even showing up. Only our regular crew and family showed up. Bobby and Anthony were sleeping off hangovers until well past ten pm that night. It was ok, chilled out, and everyone had a good time, but it was nowhere near the perfection I had in mind. Henceforth and forever more, I will remember the convo with Erin and know what the fuck to do. I should have known from the beginning, I did know, but I chose to believe otherwise for some odd reason.

HINDER LYRICS

"Room 21"

She said nice to meet you
But she didn't tell me her name
With red lipstick and pale pink boots
This bitch just blew me away
Cocktails later
She said to me
Don't be late
And heres my key
Wanna know what happened next
Take a wild guess
I stumbled up the stairs
To room 21

I walked in and saw her on the bed
There was nothing to be said
When we were done
She said she loved the taste of my oh oh oh
When I came to the next morning
There were cigarettes put out on the floor
Her panties hanging from the doorknob
She left me craving more
I swear to God you'd feel the same
If you got used my whats her name
Wanna know what happened next
Well take a wild guess
I stumbled out the door
Of room 21

I walked out with her in my head
Cant remember a damn thing she said
Except when we were done
She said she loved the taste of my oh oh
She said nice to meet you
I never forget a face
Here we go again
I cant wait
I'm gonan get used by whats her fucking name
Wanna know what happened next
Well take a guess
I stumbled out of the door
Of room 21

I walked out with her in my head
Cant remember a damn thing she said
Stumbling out the door
Of room 21
(Here we go again)
Room 21
(Here we go again)
Room 21
(Here we go again)
Room 21
(Here we go again)

So, we all know that Dad quit smoking cigarettes a while back, almost two years. This has not, however, deterred his other vise. As many of you know, studies show that one equals a whole pack of full flavor cigarettes. Now, he quit smoking because of his heart and lungs. One would assume that he would give up all vises of such nature. I believe this hope to be pardon the pun, a pipe dream. Now, I know that he hurts and that the Loritabs don't really help as much as they should and that it helps the pain a bit. However, the side effects include increased appetite, which is not good for him since he's a heart patient with diabetes and the snacks he consumes in this state are anything but healthy. I know this seems like the pot calling the kettle black since I refuse to lay down the Marlboros, but my health is not in immediate danger. I just worry that he's quickly going to become one of those men who turns off his portable oxygen tank to smoke. I know I'm rambling and ranting, but someone has to listen, and they have decided they are tired of hearing me bitch about it at home. Whatever. I just don't want to lose my dad. I know that I will one day, but I would rather that day be another twenty or thirty years from now, not five or maybe ten. Arg! I'm so pissed at him right now. See, the part I managed to skip in the beginning of this rant is that he just got out of the hospital last week and promised he'd quit. Today he partook of not one, but two of the damn things. Sometimes I just want to shake him!

There is an antique car club called The Southern Who, and every so many months they have a car show here, at Diamondhead Resort. So, because of this, we had over 140 reservations yesterday. Well, we had several rooms down for maintenance in the computer, but the repairs had already been completed. Well, Tammy didn't put the rooms back on the market and was trying to check in more guests than the computer believed we had available rooms. The computer wouldn't allow her to check in guests beyond our on-market capacity, so she started checking people in using the printed reservation cards as registration cards and not checking them into the system. This led to total chaos and double renting certain rooms. It was a mess.

When I got here, I joined in and helped her straighten things out as best I could without using the system. It took three of us hours to get everything right. Tammy ended up cleaning rooms with housekeeping while Rachel and I dealt with the check-ins and guest complaints. Roger, the owner, (Erin, remember what I told you about him) decided that we are not over-booked, even though we are. He starts looking in the computer and trying to give away rooms that had people in them. When I informed him of the input problem and that I hadn't had time to fix it yet, he hit the roof. I quickly passed the buck to Rachel and Tammy, who had created the fiasco. Roger decided that we will not check in a single guest until everything is in the computer and all straightened out. Ok, sure. In the meantime, we have to make guests wait.

Well, half an hour later, we are halfway through the mess when Roger decided not to make guests wait any longer. We get yelled at for making guests wait, and I'm beginning to get really pissed.

I check the guests in and continue to input the other guests when he decided that it's time for Rachel to go home. Ok, fine. I can take it from here.

After she leaves, he tries to put guests into rooms that are off market for wet carpet and housekeeping. I explain this to him and get an ugly look. Whatever!

By the time things calm down, it's ten o'clock at night. I haven't had a single break, cigarette, or bathroom break since I got there at two-thirty. This is when Roger decides to bless me out yet again for everything that went wrong. I listen for as long as I can before my fists begin to clench, my face turns red, and I begin to shake. I look him dead in the eye and tell him that I am going to sit down and smoke a cigarette and that he needs to be quiet. Anyone who has seen this face before knows that it means I'm about to hit the person who made me this angry.

He doesn't quit. He keeps going. I light my cigarette and turn around to face him again, ready to punch him, quit my job, and possibly go to jail for assault. This is when I bite my tongue, literally, and tell him that I'm not the one at fault and that he's bitching at the wrong person.

Does he quit? No! Of course not. This is when I start crying and feel the skin of my palm begin to rip as my nails are now digging through the last layer of flesh. The funny thing is that Chris, the bouncer/head of security who is standing by us the whole time, backs away from me at this point. He knew that I was at my breaking point and saw that I was ready to blow. He tries to shut Roger up, but from a safe distance. I think he would have let me hit the bastard.

Chris drags the son of a bitch away while I smoke the last of my cigarette and begin to prepare my drop.

After I clocked out, I went to the bar to have a couple of drinks and watch my brother on his first night as a bouncer. Anthony sees the look on my face and decides that I need not one but a series of hugs, which I did. Liz, the bartender decided that Bobby can pay for my drinks since I've had a bad day. She charges them to his account without even telling him, and I let her do it. Am I wrong for that? Probably. Do I care? Not really.

Anyway, that was my Friday night. How was your's?

1. Ever punch someone in the face?

2. How old are you?

3. Are you single or taken?

4. Eat with your hands or utensils?

5. Do you dream at night?

6. Ever seen a corpse?

7. Have you ever wished someone dead?

8. Do You Like Bush, the president?

HERE COMES THE FUN ... ... ...

9. Whats your philosophy on life? and death?
life-
death-

10. If you could do anything with me, and have no one know about it, what would it be?

11. Do you trust the police?

12. Do you like country music?

13. What is your fondest memory of me?

14. If you could change anything about yourself would you?

15. Would you date me?

16. What do you wear to sleep?

17. Have you ever peed in a pool?

18. Would you hide evidence for me if I asked you to?

19. If I only had one day to live, what would we do together?

20. What is your favorite thing about me?

21. Do you think I'm attractive?

22. What's your favorite color?

23. If you could bring back anyone that has passed, who would it be?

24. Tell me one interesting/odd fact about you?

25. Will you post this so I can fill it out for you?

So Mom convinced Dad to go to the ER. Turns out that he has pneumonia and the flu. They have decided to keep him. The doctor put him on breathing treatments, antibiotics, and increased his fluid medication's dosage. They temporarily increased his oxygen from 2 liters to 3 liters. He's feeling ok, even cracking jokes; but with his heart condition, he has to be monitored carefully so that the pneumonia doesn't cause another round of congestive heart failure. He should be home in a few days.  

This, coupled with a coworker's grandmother's death, is the reason I must place all plans on hold so as to be able to take turns sitting with him and covering her shifts. This really sucks because I was actually going to see my Naz. I was going to spend the night snuggled on the couch or bed with her and the animals and maybe Adam, talking about life, love, bondage, servitude, and a few other random topics the alcohol would have allowed to escape our lips. Damn it!!! I need Nazzuh time! Love to all. Sorry for the last minute cancels. Ciao!

Ok, so there is this whole "10 things you didn't know about me" thing going around here. I thought I'd share mine.

1. I really don't like dogs.

2. I get nauseous watching old people eat.

3. I hate celery.

4. I really, really hate shitting.

5. I would rather load dirty dishes into the dish washer than unload clean ones from it.

6. Cleaning toilets makes me gag.

7. I can't talk and poop and the same time.

8. I can't whistle.

9. Bug don't bother me, but worms do.

10. I use the same chopstick to eat food and put my hair in a bun.

So, I haven't had sex in over a year. Don't ask. I just do this, sometimes for years on end. My longest run was two months shy of four years. I finally figured out why I do this. (Erin, you can feel me on this.)

Ever look at a person and know without a shadow of a doubt what they would be like in bed, what things they would like, what things would turn them off, what their hidden desires are? Well, in Hancock County, this is an everyday thing for me, without trying or even wanting to know. I just look at a person for a few seconds and know. It drives me crazy! People really do wear there desires on the outside around here.

Well, sometimes, I get tired of the same old pick-up lines and come-ons and boring bedroom eyes. It's like playing chess with a computer, very predictable and oh-so-boring. So, I just quit. I take myself off the market and ignore anyone who is not a friend.

This, my friends, is the easy part. I stop chatting with strangers on the internet. I take down the cleavage shots and "Fuck Me" eyed pictures. I only go to the bar on off nights and only have a couple of drinks. Basically, I shut out the world.

Sometimes, the sexual frustrations mount, and it gets a bit hard, but given the right distraction, I always make it through. Thus the devotion to cheesy crime novels. I crawl into them, devour them, and grab another one. I can go through one a day during a tough patch.

Well, last Wednesday was a bad day, a really bad day. So, I called Lyndsie to entertain me. I told her that I had two choices and that I would prefer the one that didn't involve puffy eyes and a wet pillow.

So, she hauled her ass down to the bar to meet me. She made fun of the two rednecks singing karaoke and pointed out the construction workers drooling over the bartender. In general, she kept me entertained. . .

Until, that is, this one group of guys walked through the door. Suddenly, I went from feeling like I wanted to curl into a ball and die to pissy vindictive and sexually frustrated. I wanted to play with their head, fuck one of them, and punch them on the way out the door.

Lyn saw this coming and knew that it would end badly because I had allowed myself to get a bit too drunk to pull it off gracefully. So, she stepped in and managed to corral three of the guys, leaving me just one with which to play. She's good like that, even if she is young.

Well, something about the way this man looked made me want to climb the walls, made me want to take my clothes off, and fuck him right on top of the bar for the world to see. The funny thing is, he's so not my usual type. In fact, he's almost exactly the opposite. (Still can't figure that part out.)

Anyway, we flirted a bit, he kept his distance, and I began to wonder if I had lost my touch. We continued this game at Waffle House after Last Call, and I began to believe that I really had lost my touch. We kept the game going with a tailgate party, and I began to feel as though it were completely hopeless.

Just as I decided to call it a night, I noticed a chink in his armour. As it turns out, I wasn't losing after all. I had just been too drunk to pay attention. By the time we parted ways, I felt much better. While I hadn't won or even played my A game, I felt pretty satisfied in the knowledge that I still had what it takes to play.

However, there have been some lasting side affects to this little game that were not foreseen. (You know what's coming. Right?. Take a seat. Put down your drink light a smoke, and get ready for it.) I WANNA FUCK!!! Damn-it to Hell! I'm craving dick again.

This is not a good thing people. This could become Slutfest III if I give into this. The last two times I unleashed the inner slut, she managed to rack up a whopping 60 notches on her lipstick case. (This number includes women and men.)

Now, usually I can pour myself into a book and ignore the urges until they subside, but this time around, they are getting stronger with time. Seriously, Tim, the tech guy from work, put his hand on my shoulder and I almost pounced on him, and he's nowhere near even last call cute. He's more of a 2 on the scale after several drinks.

This, my friends, could be the death of me if I don't find a way to get past this. Of course, I have informed Lyndsie that she will be working overtime in her friendship duties as a guard against stupidity and weakness. She is in no way happy about this and has informed me that there will be a heavy price to pay for her services. I don't know which is worse, her or the people she keeps from me. Either way, I'm doomed. Somebody shoot me. Just put me out of my misery. Please!

I suppose that I could do a regular 2006 review, but I don't want to, so I will review the moments that made me laugh then and make me smile now.

1. Mom and Dad moved to Florida
2. Grandma, Aunt Norma, Mrs. Dot, and I peeled shrimp and discussed family history.
3. Mrs. Dot (who is 89) called Grandma and Aunt Norma crazy.
4. Grandma and Aunt Norma taught me how to make Godfather's Meatloaf.
5. Grandma and Aunt Norma taught ne how to fry chicken.
6. Grandma, Aunt Norma, Miss Brenda, and I had Red Velvet cake and French Market coffee and chicory for breakfast for Miss Brenda's birthday.
7. Lyndsie's doctor put her on Lithium.
8. Uncle Dan laughed out loud several times and made jokes!
9. Dad got locked out of the house by James and Cindy's dogs and had to crawl his big ass through a tiny window.
10. I got a new phone.
11. I bought a bunch of new clothes.
12. My brother bought a double wide trailer.
13. CJ graduated from Vanguard.
14. Lyndsie graduated from Vanguard.
15. Lyndsie and I became close.
16. Jeff and his chick came over to chill.
17. I spent a fair amount of time at Nazzuh's hiding and relaxing.
18. I let CJ layer my hair.
19. Lyndsie, Steve, Jeanette, Anthony, Bobby, and I got drunk at the bar before watching Bobby play with his food at Waffle House.
20. Tyler, Markie, Jeanette, Adrienne, and I went to the circus.

While these moments are in no way the only ones that make the list, they are the ones that popped into my head first.