The one who was too drunk to remember

I had become friends with the trumpet player in my band at the time. I will call him Sillyman, because, well, he was and still is, one of most of lovely, crazy, goofy people I've ever known.

Sillyman had so much silly positive energy I just could not stay away. He told terrible jokes, said bizarre things, and would get really excited about random things and dance around. But I loved being around him. He was fun and made me happy.

My friends were throwing a pirate themed party and I brought him as my date. Since I was the driver, Sillyman was free to drink as much as he liked, and boy did he... But I guess I wasn’t aware of how much he actually did have to drink.

I tried to kiss him in the car when I dropped him off. I should have known better than to make a move at that exact moment. But I did. I tried kissing Sillyman three times and each time he seemed very confused, which is why I tried three times.

A friend told me a week or so later that he had told her that he woke up in his bed and didn’t remember how he had gotten there. It was only then did I realize that he was way more intoxicated than I had thought. Great… Smart move...

I wonder if he remembers that I had tried to kiss him and just doesn’t want to bring it up, because we are still friends. But more likely, he really doesn’t remember at all and that he really was that drunk.  One day I will bring it up.

Either way, we are still friends and have that agreement that if we reach 40 and are still single we would get married.

How cute.

The one who was neglected

That would be you. I'm sorry.

I have two jobs, I'm taking a class and I'm in a band.

I don't have time to workout, watch movies, do my taxes, sleep much, get to the grocery store or go to the gym.

But I still love you and have decided to quit my second job for the above reasons.

I will write more, I still have lots more stories to tell.

Smooches.

Thanks for reading...

There's a new post up right below this one about my high school crush...

: )

The one who drove a white minivan

Whenever I see a white minivan I think of Jason, my high school crush.

He was a gorgeous sandy-blonde mild-mannered boy who probably turned out to be gay. I can't be sure since nobody has heard from him. And stalking him on the internet doesn't get me very far, although I feel like I might have seen that he's a second grade teacher as of four years ago.

I did my regular thing by hiding my love for him by becoming his friend. We even hung out a few times. I thought about calling this post "the one who taught me how to properly wash my car windows" because that's what he did. I didn't know I needed to use a paper towel to get the water off the wiper with every stroke. I mean my Mom never did that, but her windshield always looked like crap.

I obsessed about when Jason would call me back, if I would get to sit next to Jason in the one class we had together and if Jason would ever in a million years see how cool I was and want to make out with me.

Of course I was the good friend and even hooked him up with Amy, a friend of mine, for prom... what a good friend I was. She was a water polo player and could kick any guys ass. Amy had a smoking hot, buff body. It was a little masculine at times. Some guys loved it, some thought it was a little scary. Jason was a swimmer, and we all know what swimmers bodies look like.

Don't get me wrong, my prom date was awesome as far as the fun-ness level goes, we danced the whole night long. But he was not as gorgeous as Jason.

Amy and Jason looked really awkward in their prom picture.

Our school paper always ran a joke issue at the end of the school year making fun of all the graduating seniors. Amy's was nominated "most likely to be a man." Jason was nominated "most likely to date Amy."

This stuff is too perfect to make up people!

The one who was there for me every time

And that would be my little battery operated friend.

Amen sister, you can say it, go on: Amen.

Of course it has to get it's own post. How could it not?

I've had three throughout the last few years (before that I had my ways...) and two of them were gifts. Thanks to the ladies that, other than my Crosby, Stills & Nash box set that Graham Nash himself gave me for my fourteenth birthday, gave me the best present ever (you know who you are). And this is saying something because I've got some family members that spoil me rotten.

If only I could find a man that didn't find it de-masculating to use it with me. It's not my fault that I'm a tough customer!

Amen, girl. Amen.