Last Night in Memphis, Nostalgic, Emotional, Girl-Rant. Disregard this Entire Post.

I'm sitting at my mother's desk, drinking a Bud Light. Texting a few good friends, trying to think of something poetic to say.  The truth is, my brain is so overextended with this move, that I don't have anything poetic left in me.

Actual photo of my evening. The strawberry is a bit busted. Like my heart. Awwww.

The beer reminds me of sitting on the deck of a bar in Florida with Scott earlier in the year. I don't drink Bud Light.  He does. I bought it to make him bitch less, which is a miracle when it occurs. When we were in Florida, I drank whatever was on sale. I got absolutely tore up one night. Not-Able-To-Walk tore up.  Sometimes I'm amazed our friendship has endured some of the things that have come out of my mouth. The man, he has patience.

One night, while drinking at the Beau Rivage, we met four guys straight out of prison.  Some of you have heard this story, but it's worth documenting.  Anyway, Scott being the wonderful pal that he is, noticed them noticing me.. and instead of being a protective male type, he invited them over.  They decided to play coy at first and pen a poem, which they passed via courier to our side of the large bar.  The poem was graphic, crude and rather elementary.  It compared the color of my skin to a certain bodily fluid.  This made me want to both shower and tan simultaneously. 

We make a nice team. That's team, not TAG team. We weren't down with the Deliverance Boys.

This didn't bother Scott in the slightest. Hell, he was delighted by our new friends.  When they made the journey to our side of the bar, I swear I heard the banjos from Deliverance in my head.  At one point, the largest of the species, put his hand on Scott's leg and said rather ominously "You sure do got a pretty mouf."  Not mouth, mind you, though this is what he indicated as he spoke.. but "Maw-fff". Prison-starved AND eloquent. Jackpot! I felt a love connection on the brink.  While they clustered together to rock-paper-scissors which one was going to have his way with us (collectively) first.. I declared a sudden urge to run to the ladies room.  Scott gripped both of my arms and said "You are NOT leaving me here!". I saw honest to God fear in his eyes.  We managed to escape while they looked for twine and duct tape.  You'd think I'm making this up, but I'm not.

This photo has nothing to do with the blog post. But it makes me laugh. This is from that same trip to Biloxi, where I fell and cracked my ankle (Due to an inability to walk and chew gum simultaneously). This was posted on Faceplace to fully explain the damage.  Photoshop skillz. I has them. Thanks to Scott and Connie for taking me to the hospital, and for making sure I was nice and drugged up. I owe ya one.

That night, we shared a room with Connie Rice, which left us to one bed between the two of us.  Not entirely keen on snuggling up, instead, Scott wanted to recreate the moment from earlier in the night.. and decided to write me a poem.  It was salacious. It was naughty. It started with "Roses are red..".  It was everything a girl could hope for. We laughed until we fell asleep.  The next morning, in a hurry to make our noon event we forgot the poem, leaving it behind in bed. We were moving to a hotel room at the IP, leaving this room for the sweet, very innocent, married-to-her-high-school-sweetheart Connie.  Housekeeping found our poem, while doing their thing and decided to leave it.. displayed poignantly on Connie's pillow.  I'm sure she read words on that napkin she'd never heard before.  She called me in a panic, absolutely certain that she couldn't show her face in that hotel again.  We laughed. She didn't. I'm amazed she still talks to us.

When he came over tonight, to say goodbye, I thought of this night at the Beau.  And the dozens of others where we've gotten ourselves into situations that neither of us will ever forget. We sat on the couch, long after Mom went to bed, and talked about poker and friends.  Hookups and relationships. We moved to the porch and watched the rain and joked about mutual acquaintances of ours.  When I walked him out, and gave him a hug.. knowing it will be a long time before I see him again, I tried very hard not to cry. I made it to the house before I did.

I'm scared of Vegas.  I'm scared I won't have the friends there that I've managed to make here.  That no one will understand me.  Which sounds incredibly vain, but seriously, I can rub people the wrong way without meaning to.. and in other scenarios, rub people just the right way.. unintentionally as well.  I'm afraid of going out there and failing, and crawling home with my tail tucked between my legs. I'm afraid of never sitting in a bar/on a deck at the beach/on a couch with a friend and laughing so hard I can't breathe again.

I think, today, even CatCat realized I needed my hand held. He's intuitive like that.

I've written about my battle with depression before.  I've believed, for some time, that I've kicked its ass.  It hasn't reared it's ugly head in some time now, and when it starts to creep a toe in the door, I can head it off before it begins.  I feel it right now, holding my hand.  Coaxing me in just the right ways. Trying very hard to squish me. I feel like everything is hanging by a thread, and that thread might just snap. Not just because I'm moving, but because absolutely everything that approaches stability in my life has been thrown into the wind, by my own hand. I know the only thing that will resolve this is time. Just maintaining, every day, until I don't feel those dark icky feelings. Patience is not my strong suit though.

I'm only exploiting this personal text message, because I know she'll be okay with it. I want to share with everyone the kind of friend Sharky is. She's a girl's girl. She's been a trooper, and I'm proud to count her among the people I confide in. <3 that girl.

On a positive note, I have a list. Two actually. The first.. things I will NOT miss about Tunica.  We all know what I'm going to miss about living here.  I'm going to focus on the positive. Or try, anyway. The second list, are the things I'm looking forward to in Vegas.  I'm such a tourist, ya'll. Seriously. I have almost always lived in tourist locations and I love the touristy crap that even the tourist hate.  It delights me.

Things I won't miss about Memphis/Tunica ...

• Overalls and Suspenders being the required poker room attire

It's not like I had to work to find this specimen. He was right there, in uniform. Like they are every night.


• Guests referring to comps as "Meal Tickets". Do I look like MIFA?!
• Where ghetto isn't run-down housings, it's a style/creed/fashion statement/lifestyle. And applauded.
• Being the only woman over 25 without a baby-daddy.
• Buffets are actually considered fine dining here.
• Mosquitoes the size of eagles.
• Men who measure their masculinity by the size of their belt buckle.
• First dates that involve mud and large tires.

Things I'm looking forward to in Vegas...

• Sitting for ages in front of the Bellagio Fountains.
• Driving out into the desert, laying on an abandoned street, and seeing the stars you can only see there.
• Eventually making a cameo on COPS: Las Vegas
• Musashi after midnight.
• Weekend trips to Palm Springs, San Diego, Big Bear, Los Angeles and the garden cities.
• No pollen allergies
• People watching
• Spending time with Sharky, Mr. Dick and hopefully (?!) new friends, and having old ones visit.

I'm going to hit the road sometime tomorrow if all goes as planned.  Not sure when exactly.  My computer at home is dismantled, and I'll be going there in the morning to pack it and the CatBeast up for the trip out. I'll be posting regular updates on Facebook as to my location and the inevitably bizarre shit I witness while crossing this great nation of ours.

I can't reiterate enough how much I'm going to miss a lot of you.  I know some of you (Joe and Stephen and Steven come to mind) feel cheated because I didn't say goodbye.  I'm going to call you.  Right now I'm just avoiding as many emotional encounters as I can.  I have a lot to get done, and if I think about some of you right now, there is no way I'm getting in that car tomorrow.

Hit me up on Facebook for regular updates, or call/text. I won't mind the company one bit.  If you don't have my number, and don't know someone who does have it.. there is probably a reason for this. 2/3rds of our nation seem to have it, especially when I'm trying to sleep.

In my next post, I promise to write a few notes about the characters in Tunica who have made my life worthwhile, unforgetable, dreadful and exciting.  Right now it would be too clouded with girl-emotion and I want to accurately describe these critters/friends of mine for those making a trip to the cotton fields.

Thanks guys, for reading.  Your support, comments and companionship are invaluable to me.  <3

For now. :)  See you in Vegas.