THANKS, STOMACH MUMPS

Wow...This feels odd. I don't know what to say...It's been a while? Yeah, I know. The more time I spent away from the blogsphere, the more blogfolks, I'd lost touch with, which lead to my hesitatation of getting back in. I never lost the love for it, but it was always, annoyingly on my mind like a neglected bill that wouldn't disappear.

WAAAAAAAAAKE UP!
I got stuck in a really bad routine of Nyquil induced sleep, take out chinese, Cheaters, Maury, gutter sex (when you call the dicks you have no business knowing nor letting them know where you live) and weed induced munchies. Then one Saturday, I simply woke up and realized, I need to get out more. So that's what I've been doing. I established a comprehensive, intervaled (is that a word?) routine with a lovely club/lounge/bar network that ensures I don't become a regular at one spot. The first night out at the old reggae spot completely inflated my head all over again when I received flatteries from the same people I used to see in that damn club since my fake id days. It was heaven. It hit me like a ton of bricks: I look dayum good (Ran into the penis from my last entry. I'm making him prance at the entrance of the stable a little longer, before I decide to let him back in). It's amazing how coffee and Diet Rock Star can keep me functioning for 10 hours of work with only three hours of sleep.

SECRET HIDEAWAY
I ran off to Negril for a couple of weeks last month to get away from it all. I hid from my family and stayed at a hotel. I had a friend take over the renovations while I was there, so no one caught on. Solitude is the world's best detox. I slept until I couldn't roll over anymore, ate until I thought I would bust at the belly button and laid out at the beach until the land sharks got too forward. Sheer heaven. I learned all the latest dancehall moves and spent my late evenings practicing in the mirror, perfecting them for my return to the clubs in Cali. One highlight was meeting Buju Banton. I made the mistake of telling him my mother's maiden name, so he was convinced we were related. Didn't believe in that whole kissing cousins thing. While I was there, I applied for a job online for the CDC. I wanted to see how much my resume was worth.

H.N.I.C
That lead to another large promotion at work. Things couldn't be better there. I applied for a job with the Center for Disease Control when I completed the fellowship. When my boss heard about it, she immediately gave me a deal I couldn't refuse. My parents were ecstatic about it. When I told my father I was seriously considering relocating to Georgia, his response was; "I can't drive to Atlanta. I can't function if you're a plane ride away from me." I almost cried.

ASSSESSMENT CENTER
I've continued helping out the girl I mentioned in previous posts. In September, she decided to call CPS herself and get out of her mother's house. My boss is working on becoming her foster parent. Until then, we share in spending time with her on the weekends. Tonight, she decided to run away from her current foster mother and called me to pick her up. The police just came to take her to an assessment center (which is why I'm up so late), where they will find another foster place or group home to place her until my boss is cleared to taker her in. When I asked her what the assessment center was like, she claimed; "It's like juvi for foster kids who run away. You have to sleep with one eye opened because there's girls who try to rape you in your sleep." Yeap. That's what our tax dollars are operating.

BELIZEAN TREAT
My clubbing routine, busy work schedule, occasional gym work outs and extended sauna sessions has gotten me in a nice cuvry shape. I'm spending two weeks in Belize in December, right before X-mas and my goal is to have sex. That's it. No sightseeing, no touristy crap. Sex. Sex. and Sex. People truly underestimate its healing powers. Gutter sex was the only thing that kept me sane in September. I was having so much that I could literally feel the endorphins oozing from my receptors. Plus, I've long passed my fifth hand this year and figured, I'm only getting older, so I might as well enjoy as many a penis as possible before I...
A: Narrow it down to just one
B: Decide to be a mother (which would drastically decrease the dick intake because I'd have to be a role model).
C: Get married
Currently, B is the only realistic option that could happen between now and 40.

STOMACH MUMPS
What lead to my depressive stint, which lead to my rut, which lead to my epiphany, which lead to my busy social calendar, which lead to my new curves, which lead to my bustling stable...all these things, are in debt to my stomach mumps. Thank you stomach mumps for forcing me to take a time out and realize, I'm not 30 years old, I'm ONLY 30 years old and there's no reason to sweat the fact that there's a possibility that I may not have kids. Plus, I haven't found a man deemed worthy enough to carry his seed for nine months anyway so I've basically been stressing in vain. I have a lot of dick testing to do though...