Wednesday, December 29, 2004

J.J. Lets hit 'em quick before they wonder what the hell that was.

This trip home was supposed to be all about the boys. It was gonna be a good old bonding Christmas where we could all get together, drink beers, tell stories and do whatever it is we do best. But something about this trip has been way different. Somewhere in my new sleeping schedule which only includes waking hours from 12PM to 3 AM things didn't quite go as planned. This trip became all about the ladies. So many ladies. And they just keep coming out of the woodwork. My phone rings at least 10 times a day and my thumbs can't keep up with all the text messages. Honestly people, my world has been turned upside down. All these sweet little girls are women. Full-blown women. And sexy women. And they're calling me. Me. Little old me. Only I'm not the little old me I used when I was around them. Nope. Somewhere between those first days getting pushed around the high-school like the invisible man and a year one the east coast and a year back here and another competing around the world I became something else. It wasn't just my mind that grew.

And now they won't stop calling. I make fun of them. I treat them like dirt. I walk all over them. But they keep calling. And I'm out every night until 3 AM. And in 12 hours I have to be at the airport to fly and see the G2K. For way too many days. Somehow I got suckered into staying from the 29th until the 5th. And all these girls are gonna be gone before I get back. Bad call on my part. Very very bad call. The good/distressing news is that this will certainly be it for the G2K. I can't think of anything that would make me stay with her after this trip. And yet still I bought her a $75 Christmas present. What the fuck?

I gotta self-actualize. It's the "be all you can be" Minus the army and plus the sorority house and multiply that by my IQ. Uh-oh. 3:08 AM and there are incoming text messages. Woody Allen. That's what they call me. A hot, sexy Woody Allen. Not that I look like him. It's the inside. My brain. Always whirring away about itself. Picking me apart when I should be rolling around with the sorority girls. One girl slapped me in the face.
What the hell did you do that for?
Kid, sack up. You work in a sorority.
Those girls must adore you. They will bend over backwards. Literally. And trust me, any girl who will get in that position for you deserves to be taken up on her offer.

So self-actualizing. I got 6 days 2000 miles away. And then it's back on the bull. Back on top. You with me?


Blogger D Rant Master said...

Sounds like a damm fine plan..

6:50 AM  

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