...And in that moment, I remembered "THE LIZZLE"

Once upon a time, I was a legend.

I could pound down drinks, laugh, dance, sing (poorly), and otherwise cavort all night... and I could get up at the crack of 10, go to class, go to my part time job where I would do my homework or reading, or play cards, and then clock out and go further elevate the legend of "THE LIZZLE."

It's been a long while since the heyday of "THE LIZZLE," and in the declining times since the pinnacle, I have admittedly let things unravel to an alarming and unacceptable degree.

This weekend, though, I found a slight glimmer of what I used to be. I was GROSSLY sleep deprived all week long... We're talking like three out of five nights with 3 hours of sleep or less. (And before you ask, no, these were not the good kinds of sleepless nights. They were way too drama-filled and in no way fun.) So by the time that Thursday rolled around, and I realized that I hadn't bothered to get a halloween costume ready, I knew that it was going to be yet another late night. So I stayed up too late again getting things on the costume just right, went to bed, and got up early to go to work on Friday. I worked late. I went from work to my place to pick up my costume, and then straight to the all-adult halloween party that my cousin was throwing. I dressed up in my AWESOME costume, I partied into the wee hours of morning, and when I got home at roughly 2 AM, I could think of nothing in the world more desirable than my bed... So I went to sleep and found when I woke up that I'd been comatose for TWELVE HOURS STRAIGHT. No kidding. I then got up, packed the costume up, made a starbucks run, fielded phone calls with assorted partners in crime, and then went to my aunt's house for a little football and halloween fun with the kids before heading off to yet another party where I wore my sweet costume, danced, drank, and played games until the wee hours of morning. (Even with the whole "fall back" thing taken into consideration.) I then went home and used my Sunday to hit the snooze button in an effort to reset before another ridiculous work week.

This weekend I remembered what it was to be young and fun again. I remembered the exploits of "THE LIZZLE" legend, and shamefacedly, vowed to work on recapturing the enjoyment of my awesomely misspent youth. I'll get back there... Well, maybe not 100% back there, but at least like a 70% version. It can happen.

It doesn't help that my current job has got me spending what little time I have for flights of fantasy plotting out the logistics of an office shooting rampage... Or at least dreamily imagining pinning a medal on anyone else who went on a shooting rampage and rid me of my boss.

I'm not really homicidal. I'm not even armed. I just actively wish for the day when I can tell them where to shove it. I knew it was bad when I started comparing the relative pros and cons of this bullshit versus the poop house.

When you compare anything to the poop house, you know things are not good.

I'm thinking that the next PHC post will be up sometime this weekend. (Provided I don't party so hard that I wind up comatose and unable to leave home long enough to hit the publish button.