Lesson #3: A true fighter

As I sit here in my office on the Tuesday after Labor Day, I can't help but think of the past year of my life. I don't know if it was my first real breakup that ignited this craziness, or the thought of leaving the comfort of college where I knew everyone and felt like people knew me (If there was an US weekly I'd prob be on the cover) or what. But I think it's safe to say that my actions have made me question my sanity on several occasions. And, after a LOT of discussion with my college friends, I am truly thinking... I may be a little bit more crazy than I thought.

Example #1: I like to fight. I'm not just talking about little bickering arguments. I am talking about knock-down, drag out fights (punches and hair pulling involved). The time that stands out most in my mind was the time I fought this chick at my College Graduation party the night before graduation. We'll call her Missy. Anyway, Missy is one of those girls that ALWAYS goes after the guy you like, no matter who he is. Unfortunately, I have the pleasure of knowing several of these lovely young ladies. She is a pretty enough girl (although not the brightest crayon in the box if you catch my drift). Fake tits, long blonde hair, OSU... you get the idea. One of "those" girls. Anyway, it all started when she began flirting with this guy I was into. We had hooked up the night before and it was pretty obvious that we were going to hook up again that night. One problem - Missy was supposed to come home and stay with me. So, after consuming SEVERAL drinks and shots, sobbing obnoxiously with two of my best friends to what I consider our "college anthem", and performing a drunken dance to Spice Girls, I decided it was about time to go. But NOT before texting the guy I was into (we'll call him Curly) at least 10 times trying to find him. Overkill? nah....

So anyways. True to form, Missy is all over him as soon as he arrives. Having witnessed her antics several times over the course of our lives, I knew what she was up to - - and I didnt like it. I grab her and say "we're leaving" and we get into the car with my friend Raiford (her identity will remain anonymous to protect her in future stories) and her boyfriend, who was nice enough to stay sober and drive our wasted asses home. Apparently, Missy takes an intense disliking to the boyfriend and begins what i can only call verbally abusing him for the remainder of the drive home. She then proceeds to tell me that I was "too drunk" and frankly an embarrassment. I mean, who the HELL does she think she is? This was MY party and MY friends and I can do what I want. That was it. I'd had enough. Once we got to the front door, I simply throw her a $20 and tell her I'm calling her a cab, she is not staying at my house. You'd think the bitch would just take the money and leave, but no. Not this one. She starts telling me how everyone in my family hates me and they are only here to see my parents and sister. Or something along those lines... who really knows at this point. THEN (and this has been put together from other witnesses, not from my memory which is fuzzy, to say the least) she shoves me against the wall by my front door.

Those of you that know me should know that I am not one to be pushed around. That was the last straw. I didn't need some fake-boobed, dumb, drunk bitch telling me lies about my family and trying to take "my man" haha. So naturally I threw the best right hook I knew how (thank you kickboxing) and socked her right in the eye.

We were pretty much punching and pulling hair when my roommate (we'll call her Freckles) came running downstairs, TOPLESS to break up the ensuing fight. Poor Freckles had been upstairs about to get it on with her then-boyfriend when she heard the commotion and came running down. Long story short, they break up the fight and the Freckle's boyfriend drives Missy over to - - get this - - CURLY'S house, where her brother had gone earlier to smoke out. Seriously. This all happened. Jury's still out on whether they hooked up or not... but I wouldn't put it past her.

Waking up with a black eye was pretty much the icing on the cake. I jammed a bfast taco down my throat and ran out the door where I got to go walk across the stage to receive my diploma and try not to yak or trip. (at least my hat didn't fly off) Then I got to go pose in a serious of God-awful pictures with all my sorority sisters and my extended family whilst trying to stay w/ my good side (aka the one without the black eye) facing the camera. I also looked bloated from all the alcohol the night before. Can't wait til my kids see those! How proud they'll be.

Oh the things I get myself into

Lesson Learned: While punching and slapping ARE effective in getting your point across, sometimes it might be better to sit and have a verbal communication with the person rather than fighting. Also, if it does come down to it... remember that a good defense is your best offense. If i'd blocked that bitch's punch, I would have looked simply ravishing (albeit slightly hungover) on graduation day, rather than the busted mess I was.