Writer's Block

Hello all from my awkward crossed leg position on the couch,

I am having serious writer's block and decided to ask two of my beautiful roommates what I should write about tonight. Chelsey is neck deep in a personal project that I am dying to see the end product of. So my only response was from Cassie, who is laying on the adjacent couch twirling her feet and browsing pinterest. She said, "You should write about how cute Matchew is." Matchew translates into Matthew from baby talk to English. As adorable as he is, I do not think I can make a whole blog about how he looks like Ben Affleck's little brother.

In the midst of writing this, Chelsey picked up some cough drops she bought earlier. Poor thing is sick. They are the Cepacol brand and are supposed to deliver a gentle warming sensation to relax the throat. She started to complain about how it was more like a forest fire than a sip of hot cocoa. The box ways warming on the front with a flame design underneath. They should have made the flames bigger, Chelsey keeps choking on the dangerous drop.

This reminded me of a funny story a friend of mine told me. This person shall remain anonymous as the story is kind of revealing and sexual. Let's just call this person Ann (ann= anonymous). Ann and a special person decided to experiment with a warming lubricant. The bottle persuaded them with the idea of a gentle warming sensation that was sure to give the sex a little kick. Unfortunately, the kick Ann received was more like being pile driven into a fire. She said she was on fire and that this product burned soo bad that she had to have it taken off right then by use of extreme measures (Ann's partner had to remove it by maneuvers of tongue). Ann said they would never use this again.

I feel bad for Ann. I couldn't imagine that kind of pain. It makes me cross my legs real tight if I try to think about it. But I can't help but laugh at what that was probably like. I would have freaked out if I felt the heat of that branding iron. It must have been awkwardly funny and probably something they will never forget.

I love how awkward stories turn into memories that I can laugh about later. It may suck at the time, but sometime in the future, my friends and I will laugh about it. I have one from this past weekend that was awful at the time, but just mere hours later I was cracking up telling Cassie about it.

As you all know, I went to Hamburger Mary's this weekend to chill with the drag queens. I said last time that my night ended when I got home. However, it did not. I proceeded to text someone who I enjoy late night canoodlings (canoodlings= staying up late talking about nothing in particular, amongst other things like sleeping) with. He was awake and drunk from a late night out. Somehow, like a few times before, I was easily enticed into joining him that evening at his place to hang out. His house is not right up the road like Sarah's is (perfect for our canoodlings), it is a good 45 minutes away. That may not seem like much but at 3:00 am, it is quite a drive. I cranked up my Hip Hop of 2000s radio and hopped on a creepy old back road.

Side story- Before I was out of the city limits, I stopped at a gas station to get a water. While there, I saw someone from the past. Sterling West was standing in line ahead of me. We went to high school together, except he was older than me. It was definitely him, just skinnier. He recognized me before I realized it was him. He came up and hugged me and asked how I had been. I told him I was doing pretty great, shockingly nothing earth shattering is going on in my life right now. Sterling proceeded to look around my shoulder and asked, "Is your boy out there with you?" I told him no, he was not and that we were no longer seeing each other. He asked why. I told him, "I am not up to his standards. Apparently, I do not look good enough for him." Of course, I was being sarcastic about the standards. I rolled my eyes and laughed when his eyes got huge. My one raised eyebrow told him I was not kidding. The sweet man behind the counter said, "Well, I don't know what he was looking at, but it sure wasn't you." Thank you kind sir at the gas station next to the China Buffet in Macclenny. You made my night.

I was back on the road heading out into the wilderness. I have this insane fear/fascination/obsession of deer on the side of the road. When my senior sweetie use to drive me home late at night from Jacksonville, I would stare out the window looking for them. When I would see one, I would freak out and scream "DEER!" and point frantically out the window like a child at a candy store. Somehow, he never saw them. I was always a little delayed in my reactions. Throw me a ball and it will smack my face, and then five seconds later my hands will grasp for the ball. I have also dropped my Iphone on my face several times while texting in bed. Text on your side folks, do not hold it over your face. That inflicts some serious damage.

That night I watched for the deer and when I saw a pack of like ten or so, I mentally willed them to stay on their side of the road. I really did not want to die because some buck ran out on the road. Nor did I want my car Mildred the Mazda to take a hit. She is fragile.

I arrived to my almost destination after a little over half an hour. The roads were in my favor that night, nobody on them except for the deer. I couldn't quite recall where he lived in this particular neighborhood so I asked for the address. I didn't get a response. A few minutes before, he said he was laying down and would leave the door unlocked for me so I could just walk in. Maybe he was asleep I thought. Drunk and 4 something in the morning were the perfect concoction for checking out for the night. No problem, I'll just find his truck which means I'll find his house which means I'll find a bed I was suddenly craving, along with a cold pillow that I could snuggle with. If he was asleep, we could just canoodle in the morning.

After an hour of circling the neighborhood, 57 attempted phone calls (literally, I freaked out with how insane I probably seemed... 57), and about 6 texts that got angrier and angrier as time went by, I gave up. I could not find his house. My Sherlock Holmes abilities had failed me. I seriously considered parking along the sidewalk and passing out. I was scared I would wake up to someone staring at me. I took a deep breath and hit the long ride back home. This time, 45 minutes seemed like 45 hours. My pandora station was the only thing that got me through it. I arrived home at 6 in the morning. I had literally watched the moon cross in the sky. Once I dragged myself up the stairs to my loft, I enabled the do not disturb settings on my Iphone. Not as kinky as it sounds but it is a nifty little device. I did not want anyone calling me until at least noon, nor did I want to receive the 20 odd text messages I always woke up to. Between Sarah, Destiny, and Kim I always had a page or two of some light reading to enjoy in the morning.

Sometime around 11, the beast awakened. I looked so ugly when I actually got out of bed. Probably a good thing my friend did not see me. I looked like hot damn. FYI, looking like hot damn is bad. It is Cassie's version of you look like crap. Of course, only this expression could be made up by her. Hot damn includes having mascara smeared down your cheeks from sweating it off in the night, lipstick smeared like you made out with a pig, and haystack hair. After I cleaned myself up, I looked at my phone. I had two texts from my friend apologizing for what had happened and swearing he would never do that to me on purpose. I felt bad, he was really sorry. I couldn't stay mad. He will make it up to me, he just doesn't know it yet.

I let it go, but I had a nagging question that was bothering me. I texted my friend and asked him where his truck was. He said it was in the shop and that he had a rental. It was being worked on because a deer ran into the side of it... I am not even going to go there.

Moral of the story, do not try to go visit a drunk man in the wee hours of the morning, they are like babies with warm milk and pass out cold. Or maybe the moral is this, ask for the address before you begin the journey or end up looking like a pedophile scoping out a new neighborhood for signs of children. Seriously, when I think about how crazy I must have looked (had anyone actually been out at 4 in the morning) all bent over the steering wheel, squinting out the windshield, I just giggle. There's always a crooked silver lining to every story, even if it is only to say you have a story to tell.