The Slump

I woke up the other day and realized that what I had felt in the middle of the night was true: the heaviness of the holidays had found me and wrapped itself around my body like a blanket that I couldn't take off. 

"Great," I said rolling over on my side, defeated. 

Silly me, I had thought that seasonal depression had given me a break. But if anything, it has become more cunning over the years. It totally snuck up on me, causing me to remember that we were in the holiday season. We obviously are, but I had somehow forgotten. 

My holiday depression is a real blast! I can zone out for hours, staring into space. I become incredibly forgetful and absent-minded. It takes days for me to complete simple tasks. And I can sleep hard and heavy for hours. 

This go-'round, there are no tears. No sadness, or at least not the sadness that I am used to. I just want to be left alone to sit in the dark and do nothing. Really guys, I consider this a win compared to holiday seasons past. 

Man, I need to be back in therapy. I would look for the referrals I was given, but I'm too tired. 

Homecoming Post 9: 37 Savage and the Bad Shot Shoot (A Cane the Kappa Story)

Once upon a time at Xavier University, I had devised an "airtight" plan to streak through this sorority's portion of the Fall 2004 Neophyte Show. This was back when all the Greek lines came out at the same time. And we would all gather in our newly purchased mall fits to watch our closest friends cross. Some girls I really, really liked crossed in that line, but I had had a BAD time with their elders my freshman year. In 2003, I served on the homecoming committee under the Miss Xavier at the time who was part of said sorority. Child, the abuse me and the other committee members underwent under that itty bitty tiny woman! I will never forget the committee chairman's face when she came into the room, denied our budget request, then told us our event plans sucked. Then there was the one that I chased across campus in the rain because she wouldn't let me walk with her under her enormous sorority umbrella. WE WERE GOING TO THE SAME PLACE! And of course, there was that gorgeous one whose name I don't recall who may have truly been the prettiest girl I'd ever seen in my life! She Rosa Parked me and made me get off of the sorority bench where I was sitting, rubbing my feet after a failed attempt to walk to class in Payless heels. Anyway, the goal was to drop my robe, run naked to the middle of the gym, do the tootsie roll, then run out the side door. I say all this to say that my streaking plan may have been better put together than my plan to get the attention of Cane the Kappa.

Cane is a mystery wrapped in a theory baked in suspense and I want to know him. I have wanted to know him for some time. He is one of those people that no one knows but everyone knows because you can't help but to know him. To me, he looks out of place even when he is blending in. And when I see him, drinking and being cool with his frat brothers, he reminds me of when I used to go to Que parties as a freshman with my fast friends and try to be fast too when I was an obvious mortified virgin.

Yes, it is true that I am a touch thirsty, but this is more than that. I have entered a season where I am just out here shooting shots, even if the odds are that the ball is going to ricochet off the rim and punch me in the face. So many people have died in my life in the past six years that I just want to do everything, even seemingly senseless things that could leave me looking dumb and feeling stupid. I believe this is referred to as living. Plus, I didn't want to leave things with the 10-year reunion bad hug. Another story for another time. 

I don't like going into any situation without a plan, and my plan for this situation was simple. After getting high off of Youtube videos on eye contact and divine feminine energy, my plan was to simply stare at him. That's right. I was going to focus my ancestral gifted sexiness, grudged up from my root chakra to my eyeballs where I would then stare him down like Cyclops from X-Men until the heat from my sensuous gaze burned into the side of his face. His eyes would then meet mine, and I would visually charm him, like cats charm birds out of trees. Then he would have no choice but to rest his head on my breasts and tell me all his secrets and fears. Those witchy ladies who wear waist beads on Youtube said it was a sure thing! 

It's not. 

It was just my luck that the Kappa tent was right next to the tent for the Class of 2007. I had never seen that many Kappas in one place ever, talking about whatever it is that Kappas talk about when they aren't twirling those cute little sticks. I was two hours into the tailgate before Cane emerged from the Kappa tent with the swag of a toddler that had just awoken from a nap. He stepped to the side of the tent, speaking to two girls who looked like twins that had really nice butts and a lot of hair.

Okay, I thought as I took a deep breath and than began to do my queen stare for what felt like an hour. It could not have been longer than a minute. It actually takes a lot to stare at a person for a long time. This I was not banking on. 

Okay, okay. I shook my head and started over again, this time getting the attention of one of the hair twins. She turned and waved to me and I waved back. Maybe I should have asked for her number because the queen stare was not working on Cane. I was beginning to get a headache. 

Before I could go prepare for round three of this poorly executed eye play, a Kappa came out of the tent wearing fire engine red leather pants (I can't make this up) and walked Cane back into the tent. 

No play from Cane in college. The bad hug. Immunity to my eye powers. I think we have to call this a wrap...until 2025 for the Xavier University 100th year anniversay. What can I say?I have never been good at taking a hint. 

Homecoming Post 8: No Socials and the Flashback (Part 3)

Saturday, November 5 around 3pm- Big Homie Sans and I arrived on Xavier's campus for the tailgate. Out of all of the events at homecoming, I would say that the tailgate is the most anticipated. There is music, food, drinks, and vendors. It's where you can catch up with people and you never know who you are going to run into.

"What's up?" No Socials said in passing, walking around Big Homie Sans and I, heading towards other tents. I stopped at the standing table at my graduating class tent and took a deep breath. It was clear why No Socials was giving me stomach aches. 

First Month of Freshman Year 2003

So at Xavier, the freshmen come to campus about a week before the upperclassmen for Freshman Orientation. That's when you move into the dorm, register for classes, get familiar with the city, etc. It is also when you get to know other kids and learn the ropes from Peer Deans. You are put in color groups. It's really fun! But in my opinion, you really don't get a full scope of what the culture of the school is like until the upperclassmen arrive. I definitely felt like a kid amongst adults, but not in a bad way. I was still pretty excited, getting to know new people. 

I actually met PUSH in the lunch line that first real week of class. He was tall and built. It was obvious that he was an athlete. He had a booming deep voice. Yet what was most interesting about him is that he looked like a famous actor at the time. 

"Do people tell you that you look like 👽?" I asked him. 

"All the time," he said nodding. I mean, the resemblance was so obvious that you would have thought that he was 👽from a distance. The very next day, he was loudly making fun of me with this friends at lunch and dinner. 

I was pretty disappointment by this. I had been made fun of since kindergarten. I had been looking forward to a fresh start, which is what it had been for that magical week. Eight days later, I found myself isolated, eating alone in a building called Xavier South at the other end of campus. It was sad because I liked catching up with my friends at the main cafeteria, but I didn't want trouble with PUSH. I only saw him in the cafeteria, so if I stayed clear of the cafeteria, I rationalized, I could stay clear of him. 

This plan worked for about a week. One day, I was sitting at Xavier South with my friends Sydney and Donna when I saw a basketball player walk in. He was one that I often saw with PUSH. When his eyes met mine, I knew there was gonna be some shit. He took out his phone, texted something, and about five minutes later, most of the team had popped up, including, of course, PUSH. 

The jig was up. I couldn't eat at the main cafeteria. I couldn't eat at Xavier South. I was going to have to ask my grandma to order me a box of Ramen Noodles so that I could eat them in my room alone. Living in an all-girls dorm, I could be sure that PUSH wouldn't show up there. 

PUSH and his teammates got their food and sat directly behind us. Immediately, PUSH began roasting me, talking about how huge and ugly I was. They were having a gay old time, laughing their asses off, and I was truly confused. I had been in college for a little less than three weeks! I didn't know these guys! 

I took a deep breath and turned around. I mean, PUSH was directly behind me. I think that he wanted to make sure that I heard him. I had to confront him. If life had taught me anything up until then, it was that bullies gonna bully if you don't at least attempt to stand up for yourself. This was going to be different though. I had never stood up to a guy that was like 6'4 with 2% body fat before. Even though I weighed more than him, I had no doubt that he could toss me across the floor like a napkin if he wanted to. 

"Did I say something to offend you?" I asked him in an overly professional tone. 

"Whoa!" he exclaimed moving back, as if the power of my weight had pushed him backwards. Then, on reflex, I poured my soda down his pants. 

He jumped up quickly, and I just knew he was going to punch me. 

"You're dead!!" he yelled, reaching for some napkins. 

The situation had obviously escalated, but I didn't notice or care. I felt completely vindicated, seeing the alarmed looks on his friends' faces. I was proud as a peacock, strutting out of that pathetic little eating area, loudly reciting the lyrics to "Wangsta". Even as the restaurant workers called the campus police, I felt like Muhammad Ali. Holly Clay: 1/ PUSH: 0. Boy, never underestimate how things can change in the course of a minute. 

In the midst of my victory lap back to my dorm, I turned around to make sure that PUSH was not behind me, for the basketball team was walking on the other side of the street, talking about what had just happened. I saw him getting into Bob the Builder's Dodge Charger and even from a distance, I could tell from his body language that he was PISSED! Like, violently so. 

Oh shit, I thought to myself, stopping in my tracks. The players on the other side of the street stopped too. Bob The Builder pulled his beautiful car up to the curb. PUSH jumped out of it with a basket of chicken fingers and fries, walked right up to me and smooshed the hot food in my face with the strength of ten men! "You look hungry you fat bitch!" he screamed down at me. I grabbed his white tall tee and he pulled it out of my grasp so quickly that it made my fingertips burn. Donna moved back, unwilling to soil her Polo sweater, and little 5-foot Sydney sprang into action, nipping at his heels like a possessed chihuahua. 

I don't think that I had ever been in shock before that moment. I could feel warm ketchup settling into my scalp, which is tragic, seeing that I had worked all summer to afford microbraids. As Sydney verbally went in on PUSH, I looked down on my clothes and couldn't believe my eyes. I was covered in food crumbs and sauce stains! Then I looked up, directly across the street, and saw a younger, goofier-looking No Socials laughing at me. They were all laughing at me. But it was like I could feel the vibrations from No Socials' voice from across the street he was laughing so hard. He was practically choking on his spit. 

That was 19 years ago. 

How had I forgotten he was there? I asked myself, watching him talking to someone at their tent. I had such a good time in college. Sometimes I forget that every moment wasn't great. 

The Cappin' Captain

I went to school with some real bosses. Pharmacists. Doctors. Lawyers. Business owners. Materially, I do not have as much as many of the people that I graduated with and, admittedly, being what I consider a "have not" played into my not wanting to go to my 10-year reunion with my friend DZ five years ago; played into my insecurity and anxiety. I don't have a $500,000 home or a luxury car. What would I tell people about my life? How could I explain to people that in the 10 years that it took for them to become "rich", I was kind of lost in the world, essentially, with my degree and everything I had ever written? If anyone were to ask me what I was doing at the time professionally, a common question at homecoming, I imagined myself screaming. I imagined myself crying. I imagined myself dropping dead. But one thing that never occurred to me to do was lie.

X lies. X lies big time. X lies to the point that it is almost laughable. If X had seven twins and thirty personalities, X still could not have accomplished everything that X says that X has. And these are not little white lies. These are huge, traceable, and, at times laughable lies. It has gotten to the point that folks are starting to figure this out about X and now have to cross-reference with their circles and contacts if what X is saying is true. Or sorta true. Or complete fiction. 

X is fun. X is funny. X is a good friend to X's friends, but X is also a mystery. A real head-scratcher. For although it has been confirmed that X's resume is about as good as a penny with a hole in it, X still somehow displays the financial fruits of this invisible labor. This, in turn, has turned people who know X into professional hypothesizers. Is X the bastard child of an African prince? Did X win the lottery? Is X an art thief? A Narco? A scammer? I mean, what?! People can't wrap their minds around it! But I can. 

Being completely honest opens you up to judgment and who wants that? Not I said the cat! But lying is exhausting and troublesome. You have to be lightning fast, ready to cover up a previous lie with another one; sidestepping questions and accusations. I am not lightning fast. I am molasses slow. I'd have to come clean after one day of pulling everyone's leg. X has been at it for almost 20 years! Kinfolk always tells me that the grass is not as green as it looks with a lot of our old classmates which is great, because I've never liked grass. DZ would say it is simple as standing in your truth. If I were close enough to X, I would tell X the jig is up and to exit the fairytale into reality. Homecoming is all love, and everyone has their own BS. I'd encourage X to sit next to me on the astroturf and have some spilled tea with me. It doesn't pay to lie, and that's truth. 

Homecoming Post 6: T is for Fataphobe

When you go to a small school like Xavier University, even when you don't know people you know people. It is like you are a part of an extended family. So I didn't really know Trent in school, but I knew him from a distance. He seemed like an okay guy. It was not until my interaction with him at homecoming that I realized that he is a fataphobe. 

I recall talking to Tortilla a few years back about fataphobes. I define them as people who hate or are disgusted by fat people. Oddly enough, I had not had a lot of experience with them. Sure, there had been people that didn't like me, but I always felt like that was because I was loud and had a really bad habit of saying wild, off the wall ish. Then my childhood friend Teensy got a boyfriend that was always weird around me. I didn't get the feeling that he didn't like me. It almost felt like he was afraid of me or something. 

"Yeah, he is a fataphobe," Teensy said regrettably at a dinner she was holding at her apartment. "I'm sorry he's being weird." I guess I should have been offended, but I was intrigued. I mean, he was VISABLY awkward around me. A couple of times during the dinner I thought that he was going to scream! At one point, I reached for a condiment bottle that was near his arm and he abruptly jumped to his feet and pretended to have to go to the bathroom. It was comedy! 

Fast forward to last weekend. I was at a homecoming event and saw Trent having a conversation with his ex-wife. 

Isn't that mature, I thought to myself, taking a seat next to them. There were about five feet between us. Now, he saw me walk over. He saw me sit down. Yet he did not speak. Now, if it's one thing I can not handle, it is rudeness. You speak when you see folks! That's just what you do! And I wasn't going to speak to him first, I'm the girl! 

What's this n*$ga's issue? I asked myself. But I stopped that line of negative mental questioning because my therapist warned me that thoughts like that are fruitless...before she dumped me. But she was right. Obviously, he didn't speak because he was in the middle of a conversation. DUH! Not a second after rationalizing this, he jumped to his feet and gave a bro hug and dap combo to this guy from our class. After some light chat with the guy, he sat down but turned himself in a manner that was strange and dare I say looked painful so that he didn't have to see me. My mouth dropped. What was that about?!

When he walked into the class tent at the tailgate the incident from the day before was still on my mind. Perhaps I would have thought I was trippin' if I had not watched him literally come in and speak to everyone else but me. Had I offended him at some point? I mean, when you often speak without thinking as I do, anything is possible. I just knew he was going to speak as he was about to leave the tent, but he actually sped up to try to get past me without my noticing. 

"Hey Trent!" I yelled so loudly that he had no choice but to stop. 

"Oh hey Holly!" he exclaimed as if he really hadn't seen me there. He was hella squirmy and antsy and off, and I had seen this same type of behavior before from Teensy's whack ex. It dawned on me: I was in the company of a real live fataphobe. 

Child, I wore Trent out with questions about his divorce and job and family and hobbies and anything else I could think of until he began to do this strange dance like he had to pee or something. He was beginning to sweat like Teensy's ex at the dinner party. I decided to let him go before he actually exploded, covering me in bloody, fataphobic bits. 

"It was good to see you Trent!" I said with a huge, fake smile. 

"You too!" he said, just as fake. 

A second later I turned around to see him collecting himself on the side of another tent, dry heaving. I smiled. It would have been funny if he would have hurled. Ass hole. 

Homecoming Post 5: No Socials and the Flashback (part 2)

Friday at around 6pm- Admittedly, after spending Friday afternoon at the University Center, I was prepared to order food and go to bed. However, I just didn't come to New Orleans to nap. So I slowly got ready to go to the Homecoming Day Party. Sadly, by the time I got there, it was nighttime. 

The venue was really, really cute. What wasn't cute was the amount of marijuana smoke in the air. I know that everyone smokes today, yay legalization, but I HATE the smell. It gets in my hair and it's gross. On top of that, there were a lot of younger students/alumni there and for the past few years I have done everything possible to avoid young people in my social space. I am like a 70-year-old woman. I only go to movie matinees. If I go to the mall, it's at 10am on a Sunday. Wherever they are, there tends to be pot smoke, gunfire, fighting, and exposed ass cheeks. No thanks. 

I saw a few people from my class that I knew and had a few chit-chats. I even ran into Britain, who was lit off of cocktails and marijuana edibles. I asked for one, he extended his hand to me in offering, but I thought better of it. The only thing that was going to keep me going that night was an injection of Red Bull into my forearm and someone taping my eyelids open. 

Just as I was about to get up and leave, No Socials walked down the steps beside me with a blunt in his hand. 

"Hey!" he said happily. 

"Hey, did you find your people?" I asked him. For some reason, I had the impression that he was alone at homecoming and had decided to come last minute. 

"Yeah, just like you remembered me, other people remembered me," he said walking about eight feet in front of me. He stood there, lean like a pole, and faced the direction of the DJ. He then pulled out a lighter and lit his blunt, bobbing his head to the music. Watching him exhale a large cloud of smoke,  the stomach pain came again, this time a little more apparent. 

"Ouch," I murmured to myself, taking out my phone to get a Lyft ride back to my Air B&B. I am a trust your gut type of person, but there was really no issue that I can think of. Listen yall, repressed memories are real. 

Homecoming Post 4: Anxieties

I am so happy that I went to my 15-year college reunion, but I had a lot of anxiety about going beforehand. Right until the day that I was supposed to leave to go, I was thinking about staying home. Something about seeing the people that I came of age with after not seeing them for a long time makes me want to roll under the bed and hide. I have an issue with comparing my life to that of others, which is truly a recipe for failure. Luckily, I would not have gotten a refund on my Air B&B if I hadn't gone or I would have missed out on a good time. I hear that other people have anxieties too. They have the dignity not to talk about them. Luckily, that's not me. Next year, if you are considering missing out on your homecoming because of your anxieties, just take a gander at mine, then pack and leave, knowing you are not the most neurotic person in the room. 

My Weight

I am fat. I was fat when I started college at 18. This is not news. What may be news, however, is how fat I have gotten since. It's a bit ridiculous. And embarrassing. And dangerous. And shocking. And incredible. These are the adjectives I am choosing, so I was very nervous about what my judgemental ass peers were going to say. Thank God fakeness is real. I knew that no one would say anything to my face. That didn't stop me from daydreaming about arriving at the school only for everyone to point at me and scream.

I'm Broke

So many of the people I went to school with are rich or on the bus to get there. I would get on the bus too, but I don't have enough change. 

The Old Me

Once upon a time before life happened and before I decided to try to be more like Jesus, I could have been perceived as somewhat of a jerk. It depends on who you ask. I was the worse kind too. I was the kind that could dish it but could not take it. I would not be surprised if there was still someone out there with an ax to grind that they would so beautifully chop my head off with at homecoming.  

Chin Hairs

I am scared that I will soon be growing a beard. I see the tiny pores under my chin that look like they are fixin' to sprout hairs. This keeps me awake at night. I spent most of my spare time as a child plucking my grandma's chin hairs. I am too young! 

These are just a few of the anxieties that pollute my mind. Do you feel better? Thought you would.  

Homecoming Post 3: The Mystery of Alderado Avacado

Whenever I get a call from Lady Chatsalot, I know that I am going to laugh my keister off. That, and get served a cup of piping hot tea! Lady Chatsalot is one of those girls that I knew in school, but we didn't get to really know each other until we graduated. She always has her finger on the pulse of what is going on with everything and everyone. And she is hilarious! 

"Oh girl, guess who I saw at the club!" she said, shaking her head into her computer camera. 

"Who?!" I asked. 

"Alderado Avacado!"

I thought about it for a moment before jumping out of my skin. "Do you mean -----?!"

She nodded. "Yes, girl!"

"What was he doing at the club?"

"I don't know, but when I talked to him, he said that I would probably be seeing more of him out and about."

"Girl, shut up! Does that mean that he isn't with Splitz anymore?"

"I don't know."

In college, I was so far out of Alderado Avacado's league that I don't think he knew who I was! He was just so handsome and charming and very much with Splitz, one of those girls that is so hot that you know that even in her 80s she is going to be fine! I saw him at the 10-year reunion at the club. I looked up and he was right beside me and I said, "-----!" He looked down and smiled, that million-dollar pearly white smile. God! What a dream boat!

We must have talked him up, because at the tailgate, while I was chatting with someone, I noticed two of the girls at the tent freeze. 

"What is going on?" I asked Sweets, one of my favorite girls from college. 

"Girl, Alderado Avacado just passed by."

  Again, I needed a minute. It is always weird to hear him referred to by his real name. "You mean -----?!"

She nodded with a smile. I mean, all the girls were crazy about this guy! 

"I don't know if he is divorced, but he is always in Cutie's face," Savannah said a couple of days later when I brought it up. Hmmm. So he is divorced, right? Maybe?

Let's be clear, I have no chance of ever getting with Alderado Avacado if he's divorced. For me, he is kind of like the lottery: I have no intention of playing, but I will tune in to the news to see what the jackpot is. And let's be clear, he is a jackpot. During the drive back to Atlanta, I wondered what it must be like to be wanted like that and know it! The things I could do with that type of power! I definitely wouldn't be paying my own bills, that's for damn sure. 

As for the status of Alderado Avacado, it is still a mystery, but the blood is in the water and the sharks are very much circlinng. But Splitz doesn't have to worry about me. I cain't swim. 

Homecoming Post 2- No Socials and the Flashback (part 1)

Last Friday around 1pm- Me, Aunty and Zay arrived at Xavier's Campus. It was buzzing with excited energy from students and alumni alike. It was a beautiful sight. A lot of laughing. A lot of hugging. A lot of people head-to-toe in Xavier merch. We went up to the bookstore which was crowded with people rummaging through Xavier tees and hats. My aunt and nephew went to go look at some items and I stood there, taking in the scene. However, I very quickly found myself in the middle of a number of Deltas wearing bedazzled tees that read "I am Fall '93 Delta Sigma Theta". Because of a very tragic situation that happened between me and a Delta 15 years ago (who still stands as one of only two people I have ever had to block on Facebook) I sometimes feel uneasy amidst the crimson tide, so I split. I wandered over to a room that I had no business being in and copped a squat. This room happened to be the press area for J. Alphonse Nicholson from P-Valley, who is a client of BOSS, one of my old classmates who is always calling shots and making moves. He said I could sit there as well as Aunty and Zay when they came around. Thank God! My feet were killing me. It pays to know powerful people in high places. 

Anywho, I was sitting there, minding my own business when a tall, handsome man peaked his head in the door. 

"Do you remember me?" he asked. 

"No Socials?" I asked. 

"Yep!" 

I couldn't believe it! I hadn't said his name out loud in over 10 years. I asked him what he was up to. He said that he does something with money, who knows? 

"Do you ever marry that girl?" I asked him, referring to the PYT he used to date when we were in school. 

"Which one?" he asked with a serious face. 

I shook my head. I guess that's a no. 

"Can I take your picture?" I asked, taking out my phone.

"Sure, but you can't post it," he said. And I am thinking to myself, Why would I want it other than to post it? To have as a keepsake?

I took the pic and we said our goodbyes. I looked at it. Man, he essentially looked the same. He was like a year older than me but looked five years younger! Still thin. No gray hair. He hadn't aged a day! That was pleasant, I thought to myself, even though I had a warning pain in my stomach. My gut is always warning me, but I couldn't imagine why it was this time. No Socials was cool! It's amazing what memories you can suppress if you try hard enough. 

Homecoming Post 1: Thirsty- The Story of 37 Savage

Everyone has qualities about themselves that they ignore and don't want to deal with. You may not be good with money. You may be selfish. I, sadly, am secretly thirsty. And unfortunately, this thirst is accompanied by a vibrant imagination that I use to daydream about elaborate...situations with men I went to college with. It's a disease really. Looking back, I was thirsty in college but there was no term for it then. I had a laundry list of guys that I was thirsty for, but one of my favorites was Blank Man. 

Admittedly, the first thing that attracted me to Blank Man was that he was obviously slept on. He was in college and he is now. And I am most definitely slept on. See the connection? I sometimes casually ask different girlfriends about what they think about him and they all respond with a heavy spirit of indifference. Of blah. Of whatever. More than one of them has said that they don't think he is cute which is an out-and-out lie! He is literally tall and handsome! I don't get it! 

Once he became Greek, I knew that he was going to become a nightmare and that groupies were going to swarm him like flies on poop. This always happens to boys after they cross, but it didn't happen to him. He became Greek and it was almost like girls forgot it happened as soon as it did. I would go fan girl inside whenever I saw him in his line jacket on the yard. He was adorable! Again, other girls seemed unenthused, stepping over him to get to the hottest, sexiest womanizer with a fresh fade. 

Well, flashback to the Xavier Homecoming Tailgate. I sat on the couch in my class's tent, seat twerking with Big Homie Sans to some bounce music when I saw Blank Man walk in, hugging everybody and dapping everybody up. I sat up straight. My internal thirstmeter slowly dialed up to the rhythm of a Big Freeda baseline. There he was: tall, dark, and handsome. And fatter. And visibly older. And mildly awkward. YUMMY! 

"Hey Blank Man!" I said in an overly feminine voice that made Big Homey Sans raise her professionally arched eyebrow. 

"Hey, what's up Holly?" he asked. 

"Nothing much. How have you been?" I asked, trying to keep the thirst under control. 

"Good, good."

 Are you married?" I asked. Yikes. Talk about not playing it cool. 

Cool your jets sex pot, Big Homey Sans said to me with her eyes. 

"No, I'm not," he said. He didn't pick up on the thirst because men are stupid. 

"Oh okay," I said. He moved his head back with wide eyes with a quickness that scared me. Sigh. He picked it up that time which is odd, because that time, I hadn't meant to be thirsty. I had used too much kaaaay in my okay.  He was standing and I was sitting, and he looked down at me with this look of confusion and shock and disbelief. Are you...flirting with me? his eyes asked. He looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or scream. 

No way! What is flirting? Is that a real thing? Use it in a sentence, I said with my eyes. 

Big Homie Sans shook her head, sipping on her cocktail and crossing her legs. 

The innocence in my lying eyes brought him back down to earth and he smiled. 

"It was good to see you Blank Man," I said with a wide, Girl Scout-esque smile. 

"It was good seeing you too!" Quick platonic hug. Friendly smile. 

I turned and looked to Big Homie Sans. She chuckled, nibbling on ice chips. 

It doesn't pay to be thirsty no, I said to myself, happy to have Toosie slid out of another potentially embarrassing situation. Next time I go to the tailgate, I will bring water.