When It Rains, I Certainly Hope It Pours

Hello! How are y'all? Doing okay? Good. I have a couple of things to ramble about today. 

First, it's nearing that time again, and I'm heading to the Rockies for Turkey Day break! Woo hoo! Another Jewish Thanksgiving and hopefully no random pants texting. Denver, brace yourself! Sassy's coming back to town! Are you ready? I'm on countdown...

Second, I had a date today with a guy I knew in high school. Nothing too serious really, just two people who haven't seen or spoken to each other in 20 years having a nice lunch and a few martinis. This guy, we'll call him Roach Clip (mostly because he was a huge stoner back in high school), sat behind me for a whole semester of health class. Actually, I should say he slept behind me. Every day he would come in and be all, "Dude, I smoked most of a bowl this morning and ate like 8 Poptarts this morning. Wanna meet me after 5th period and finish her off with me, Sass?" Shades of Jeff Spiccoli without the surfer motif. Yes, a class act. However, in my limited knowledge of the drug culture and the naivete of being 16 years old, Roach Clip seemed extremely funny and somewhat charming as well. Anywho, the health teacher was also the assistant girls' basketball coach (in other words, one of my coaches), and she was constantly bitching at Roach Clip for sleeping in class. So he and I struck a deal that I would wake him up by kicking the leg of his desk if she was giving our little area of the room the stink eye. One day I was absent, and when I returned the next day Roach Clip had his panties in a twist about how I could not be absent again because Coach Clit (his moniker, not mine) kept on his ass all class. He needed me, he said. I was his buffer. A bit peeved at referring to me as a buffer, I told him to shut the fuck up and stay awake in class. The next day, he was actually in class before I was. Class almost always started late due to it being 1st period and early basketball practice keeping Coach Clit and the rest of the team (including me) running a bit late each day. But anyway, I walk in and see him sitting there all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (well, I can't really speak to the tail thing), looking so alert that I wondered if his dealer had been locked up and therefore he had not smoked out prior to coming to school that day. As I approached my seat, I noticed a strange look in his eyes. They seemed a bit...well, off. As I set my books down, took my seat, and then turned around, I almost wet my pants from laughing. Roach Clip, an accomplished artiste it seems, had painted exact replicas of his real gaze ON HIS EYELIDS!! Holy shit, I could not stop laughing! When he opened his eyes to see what all the cackling was about, I tried valiantly to ask him, in between gasps, how the fuck he did that! Roach Clip's answer: "Sass, I was smoking some really good shit last night and had a fucking light bulb show up! If Coach Clit is gonna stay on my ass all the time about sleeping, I need a disguise, man. So I took out a picture of myself and totally painted my eyes on one at a time. Pretty bitchin', eh?" More hysterical laughter followed from me until I had to excuse myself to the ladies to get some tissue to try to save what was left of my mascara. I'm not kidding, guys. It looked completely real from a distance. I was fucking amazed! So anyway, I brought up that old story at our lunch because ole Roach Clip has gone legit. He's actually quite an accomplished graphic artist with a rather normal existence. Who knew?? I mean, he was a year older than me, and I hadn't seen him since he graduated. Plus, he's a hell of a lot cuter..rowrh!  So yes, I had lunch and martinis with Roach Clip, and dammit if I didn't enjoy the whole thing! I guess Facebook is good for one thing, eh? We ended the afternoon with hugs, kisses, and promises to get together again real soon, but I did say that I might have to frisk him for drugs the next time. I mean, I can't get caught up in a drug raid if we end up at his place.

Lastly, I had another date last week that was also a winner. The man is quite handsome, which of course makes me a bit on edge about trusting him. You all should know my stance on beautiful men by now. But he's so nice....I hope he doesn't turn out to be a complete slapdick. I could use a few nights here and there with a beautiful man. And I'm fairly certain he's never done any drugs.  Did I mention that he's not such a bad kisser either? This is a good sign...stupid Father Glen. What does he know?

Dare I say that things might be looking up for ole Sassy? It's been a long, dry summer, but I think I smell rain....