Analyzing Folk and Birthdays

I like to analyze people.  It is fun for me.  Especially, when it is someone I just met or if I am mildly inebriated.  I don't know why.  I just know that picking people's brains is fascinating.  Maybe I was Frued's Mama in a past life or something.  Tonight, I met a guy whom I can only assume is the only heir to the Massengill fortune.


That paragraph was written Saturday night as I came in from a night out.  I was fully intending on writing a big ol' entry about that guy but I was tired and decided I would certainly remember what a shithead he was in the morning.  However, my perspective changed.

We went to a pub Saturday night to watch UK in the Final Four throw the ball above, below, across and over the net.  It was a heart attack game for sure.  I could feel my mood flipping when I woke up that morning.  I immediately tuned to the 80's music channel on the TV and began getting everything ready for Haylee's birthday party.  I had hung the decorations the day before so I only needed to pick up the house and make the food.  But I felt pressed for time.  During the party (which went over famously with the games and decorate your own cupcake) I started feeling "revved up".  It was so crowded in the house that it was a bit overwhelming.  On a side note, I really need a bigger house or at least one that is set up differently if I want to host these kinds of events. 
The plan had been to go to the usual place to watch the game but it was too crowded and there were no seats to be had.  Fat girls can't stand mingling all night on a concrete floor.  I would have surely had plantar warts.  We decided to meet Sarah and her friend at a different place with ample seating and big screens all around.  In between shitty plays and really shitty plays we would slip out to the smoking patio.  I met a guy out there who had started talking to Sarah's friend.  He is Russian and has a pretty thick accent so strange guy struck up a conversation.  First, it was a benign conversation about how the English language is not as difficult to learn as Russian but turned to me badgering the stranger.  He told us a story of how he had a Russian ex-girlfriend and they were still best friends and they also had some "benefits".  His eye glimmered as he spoke of her.  I called him on it.  I told him I thought he was still in love with her.  He has unresolved feelings.  He called me an asshole.  Right, I was.  But.  I kept him engaged.  He just kept spilling his life story.  I know more about his tipsy stranger than I do about some people I consider my friends. The whole conversation got confused at some point after that because he was talking about two ex-girlfriends in one conversation.  Sarah and I both agreed he was talking about the Russian chick.  Anyway, it is really irrelevant who he was talking about.  He called me on my grandiosity.  I don't think that has ever happened.  Well, Mandi calls me on it all the time but she does it for sport like hunting for rabbits. Back to the point.  When mania rears it's ugly head, I AM the only heiress to the Massengill fortune but I think anyone who challenges my point of view is the douche.  I get combative and it is a contest and I will win.  You are wrong and I am right and that is that.  I am right even when I am walking away knowing I that am wrong.  I look at Sarah and say, "I WAS being an asshole, who cares?".  Psshh.


If that was a contest then perhaps the prize is insight.  The realization that when that part of mania strikes I should just keep my mouth shut because it benefits noone.