***NOTE: I wrote this a couple months ago, but was embarrased to put it up, for reasons you’ll understand after reading it. But after looking it over again I realized this wasn't a bad piece of writing. So, per usual, at my expense…enjoy.

“So, the girl says to her mother, ‘A boy tried to stick his tricycle in my garage so I took his wheels!”

The table of “friends” I’m with bursts into laughter. I fiend a giggle while unnoticeably rolling my eyes. I didn’t understand why Lamar had to tell that same joke to every person he met. I excuse myself and head to the bar for a refill. I’m on my second Long Island iced tea and I’m still not feeling a thing. I can’t believe I’ve built up a tolerance already. I so don’t have the money for this. At the bar I flag down Roxy, my favorite lezbo bartender. She makes my drinks just like I like my men, tall and hard.

“Hey babe,” she yells over the noise with a smile.

“Hey hon,” I say leaning over the bar to give her a peck on the cheek. “It’s crazy in here isn’t it!”

“Tell me about it,” she says with a frown. “I’ll be with you in a minute, you want another Long Island?”

“You know it.”

She sends a wink my way and heads to the other side of the bar to finish another group’s round of shots. I climb atop the barstool leaning next to me. I didn’t mind waiting. Any excuse to steal away from Lamar’s caddy and annoying group of friends was fine with me. I was only tagging along for an excuse to get out of the house anyway, working from home isn’t exactly all it’s cracked up to be.

A few moments later Roxy returns with my drink and I head back out to the patio where the boys are sitting, now starting a discussion about their latest sex-capades. Just as I’m about to sit down I unfortunately notice a familiar face. I try to quickly swing my head down toward the table. Damn it! He saw me. I put on a fake smile as my ex-boyfriend walks over to say hello.

Finish post here: I believe it’s a simple law of physics that if something is causing you constant pain the natural response is to do whatever possible to ease or extract it completely. At the end of this post please let me know if this conclusion is off base.

Sam Cooke definitely knew what he was talking about when he uttered the immortal works, “A change gon come.” Change seems to be the only constant in my life lately. Good and bad.

Finsh post here: http://dwynstew.wordpress.com