Sassy Suspect

The misadventures of a single gal trying to find the balance and humor in every day life.

May 02, 2005

Runaway

Ever have one of those weekends where the whole thing feels like a brand new adventure? Only you are not paired up with one of your good friends for the journey. Every turn you take – you take alone. Instead of being timid or shy of what’s around the corner you charge full force ahead. Directionless – but laughing the entire time. Flashbacks of Goonies ready for the next challenge.

That was my weekend. Except . . .

I disappear on people –
It’s a habit I have always had.
I’m independent to a fault.

Friday started out simple enough going to a friend’s birthday party (Mom if your reading you should stop reading now before you start fearing for my safety). At the party, I ran into a good buddy of mine who was with 3 very good looking guys. Just by looking at them one could tell they were the right kind of wrong but with a Three Stooges personality. Fingers snapped and I was in a cab with them on my way to another bar.

I never said good-bye to the b-day girl

30 minutes later

My phone rings – hey it’s M – I am up the street a bar that just opened next to BW3’s

I can walk there right?

I never said goodbye and walked up the street

The layout was nice, clean wide angled edges with a crisp sharpness to the bar. I quickly found my friends but something was very out of place. My friend was wearing a shirt underneath a shirt. I like the layer look but - it was a tattoo shirt, the bottom shirt is supposed to make it look like you have tattoos on your arms (M – if your reading this – you’ll never live it down, your still a bad ass – minus the tattoos.)

After a good hour there I was outside making new friends when the birthday girl called. Feeling like a child who ran away from home, I hailed a cab and jetted back to the original bar.

I never said good-bye to M.

It’s dangerous to disappear. On the nights I perform my vanishing act I will wake up the next day to numerous miscalls and J – WTF – WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? Those that know me are accustomed to the tried and true ritual of me disappearing into thin air. I don’t do anything I shouldn’t do, I don’t go home with strange men and I’d like to think I could drop kick someone’s ass if they tried to hurt me,
(like to think).

2 Comments:

  • At 10:10 PM , Blogger jopada said...

    “I can’t believe how inconsiderate you are with that crazy disappearing act. You think of no one but yourself….” Yep, that’s how it usually sounds. Don’t they understand it’s a delicate balance of restlessness, spontaneity, and a fond affection for shiny objects?

     
  • At 10:20 PM , Blogger Sass said...

    It's all about the bling baby

     

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