freak out

It is a bit frightening to see how easy it is to let go of the whole concept of blogging. The writers of other blogs I read do it all the time, often citing being busy as their excuse. I have been really busy, but I know that is not the absolute reason I have not been writing. You get separated from it and you do not know where to start up again. It happens with friendships too, especially those over distances- too much time passes, you sit down to write a letter, but you do not know where to begin. You put it off, and the next thing you know, another month has passed you by.

But I know if I turned this into a permanent hiatus, I would be sorry later, so I shall attempt to get back into the ring. But I am afraid I shall have to resort to the in media res approach to storytelling. Much has happened, and it seems, all of a sudden, after a long span of waiting, events are finally unfolding at an accelerated rate. But, nothing definitive has occurred, so in some ways, there is not that much to tell.

Instead, I will tell you what happened on Friday night. In some ways, this is actually just a lame attempt to write a public apology to some unsuspecting victims of a poorly orchestrated happy hour. Here's what I think of as happy hour- a few hours of happiness, facilitated by pleasant beverages, involving good conversations with friends new and old. Apparently, some of my friends do not agree with me on that definition. Namely, my friend KL.

Here is where I make my PSA, brought to you by Whitney Houston: Crack is Wack, y'all.

Allow me to explain. KL showed up to the bar a little too chipper, for starters. I wrote this off as Marina Girl behavior. Even though I play up my affection for the Mission, I try to give everyone a chance. I try not to let a person's neighborhood define them. Still, I'm just saying that there was a lot of Marina Girl kissing and giggling before any alcholic beverages had been purchased at the bar.

Less than an hour later, KL officially crossed over the line from happy to crazy. It started innocently, her dragging random people onto the dance floor. It morphed: she started dragging a male coworker onto the dance floor. Then the train to Crazy Town arrived, as she was hitting on men and women alike, and shoving her entire body into anyone who wasn't quick enough to block her.

Let me repeat: Crack is Wack, y'all.

Anyway. I have to admit that I wigged a little. KL invaded my personal space three times too many, and that's three times more than I usually allow. Also, I was inundated with questions or comments from the innocent bystanders:

Coworker guy: Dude, I'm a guy- I can only take so much of this before I will take it seriously. What should I do?
Innocent bystander: Oh my god, your friend is out of control.
Innocent bystander #2: Dude, your friends is attacking ads- you need to rescue her!

And then of course, there was KL, her crazy self, asking what she should do about Coworker guy- as if the dude had immaculately conceived the notion that she was into him. Um, I hate to point this out, but generally if you announce to a bar that a guy has soft lips, and grind your goodies into him repeatedly, it is a fair bet that the dude is going to think you are somewhat interested in him.

This is when I did something utterly cowardly and lame. After two and a half hours of this getting progressively more annoying, I could not take it anymore, and fled the scene of the crime. Maisnon assisted with my departure significantly, especially when she gave KL her patented oh no you di'nt look when KL attempted to drag me back into the bar for a drunken conversation about her feelings. I might have feebly said a quick goodbye to everyone, at best.

This was particularly wimpy of me because I was the one that suggested everyone meet up. I was the one that invited the possibly drugged out KL. Not only did I fail at preventing KL from molesting ads, but I also had a little meltdown of my own and left everyone else to clean up my mess.

And I assume more of a mess followed, because Crack is Wack, y'all. And also, my friend PG text-messaged me three times on Saturday asking for KL's number. So clearly, some more freaky-deaky happenings occurred after I left.