Somewhere Over the Rainbow, I've Lost My Damn Mind: A Manic's Mood Chart (15 page)
Read Somewhere Over the Rainbow, I've Lost My Damn Mind: A Manic's Mood Chart Online
Authors: Derek Thompson
I’m really looking forward to the holidays that are coming up because I feel like I missed them last year, being manic and all for X-Mas and New Year’s and building my way there at Thanksgiving. Growing up, my favorite part of the holidays wasn’t the food, the live Nativity Scene reenactment, the gifts, the family stories; nope, none of that traditional stuff. I loved Euchre. My Southern friends, you’ll have to Google that game and will probably hate on it (just like you hate on everything Yank, no worries, we do the same to the South anyway). Everyone else, you know what I’m talking about. Nothing caps off the family get-together quite like being in the barn and milking those udders in front of your uncles. I have determined that there are two ways one can play Euchre, each effective in its own right. The first is the traditional honest, rule-fearing way that the majority of the world plays, and then there’s the table talk, reneging, questionable method. I liked to play the latter; it’s just a little more fun. Be easy on me, it’s not totally my fault. It runs in the family. Right, Aunt Nene? There have been some consequences for my cheating, and I’d like to share one of those times with everyone. The year was somewhere around the late nineties, and I was early into my hoop-earrings phase of my life. It was the Thompson Family Christmas (with live reenactment of the Nativity Scene, dibs on Joseph) and the games of Euchre were starting to heat up. Being the two oldest, Cuzin Jen and I of course teamed up (she’s just an innocent bystander for the record) and were locked up against Aunt Nancy and her insignificant teammate for the point of this story. The game was close, and we squeaked out a couple point victory on a hand that I cheated with. Aunt Nancy was confused about how and why she lost the final hand, so I remarked with a smirk: “ Aunt Nancy got fired up and lectured me before she stormed out of the room. She still refuses to play Euchre with me to this day. It’s crazy to think about sometimes, that I’m going to spend the rest of my life fighting something that is stronger, bigger, smarter, more experienced, craftier, and overall just a son-of-a-bitch that fights any way but fair. It makes me laugh to think that I avoided fights my entire life, and now I have to confront an opponent that is simply better than me for the rest of my life. It’s probably a good thing I like to cheat. Session JP: DT: Hahahahahahahahahahaha, oh hahaha! Whew, no, I would never do that to you, JP. KEY TERMS: Submitted on 11/24/10 Green I am so thankful to have my libido back! OK, now that we got that out of the way, in honor of Thanksgiving, let’s get down to what’s really important. I will soon be on my way down to Charlotte for Cuzin Jen’s wedding, and I couldn’t be more excited for those Southern belles, making a country boy from Ohio get down on his knees and beg for more. In honor of hunting season as well, and to celebrate my sex drive’s return (so weird, I know) I’m going on a little hunt this weekend, and accompanying me on this epic adventure will be my wingman, brother, and all-around good guy, Poncho. I spent eighteen months in Atlanta posing as an apprentice/account executive at AT&Tizzle to learn the culture and ways of the Southern belle. These women are so different from anything I’ve encountered in my life. They’re nice and sweet more than once every three Saturdays, which means it’ll take dedication, passion, balance and awareness (.e4 reference) to attract one of these beauties. We’ll have our work cut out for us. In preparation for the hunt, I spent last Friday out in The Nasty drinking a few (I’ll explain the end to my own personal alcohol prohibition later, but it’s basically just another trust issue with my docs) and casually watching my friends pull some random intoxicated girl into their car and speed away (don’t worry, we found them at the next bar). As I mentioned, my libido has recently resurfaced, which is great for me and unfortunate for the single women within a sixty-mile radius of Grape Grove (BTW, I did think to try the singles night at the Grape Grove Church of Christ, not really the demographics I was looking for). For some unknown and unfair reason, whenever I’m manic or depressed or recovering from one of the two, I lose my sex drive. I’m still a man and do seize the moment if it arises, but my heart isn’t really into it, which probably drops me from about a five to a three. This equates to about a few months in the past three years that my libido was alive and kicking. I’m back in the game and have the bruises on my chest and nips from the “kidnap” victim mentioned earlier to prove it; she was such a giver. Now, I know the belles will not fall for anything close to that effort. I once had to spend seven months ignoring one just to get her to notice me; it was well worth it, though. I mean, this girl did have a sexy accent, and if she was from up here I would have had to fight off a dozen “bros” in bandannas with I <3 vagina t-shirts every time we went out. Yeah, she was smokin’ hot. I used to have some “revealing” pictures to show said hotness, but I deleted them when I was manic; I know I hate myself, too. Poncho’s uncanny whimsical pickup lines and my keen knowledge of the Southern belle should provide us with an eventful trip down South. I’ll be sure to let you all know how things turn out, but I have a real good feeling about this. I haven’t felt this good in a while, almost like I’m finally accepting what I am supposed to be with this BMD, and I’m really glad it included my libido. I’m just hoping that if I am successful on my Thanksgiving hunt, the belle wants to keep the lights off; I don’t know how I’d explain the bruises. Happy Thanksgiving! Session DT: I got you a late birthday present, JP, here you go. Hope you like it. JP: Thank you! Let’s see, it’s a . . . really? An I <3 Penis t-shirt, you DT: Try it on, try it on . . . KEY TERMS: Submitted on 12/3/10 Green My Thanksgiving hunt was about as successful as my golfing: through twelve holes at Pinehurst, I lost ten balls, hit a barn, sent an old man with a bad hip running, and I mean Seeing how my game makes me laugh, I’m going to continue to share it with my now sixteen followers. As I previously mentioned, I decided to give the online dating scene a try. I figure I buy sneakers online for double the monthly price of the sites, so this is one hell of a deal. I’m beginning to realize I’m as bad at dating as I am at golf. Maybe it’s my approach, but I find it humorous to reveal my stats. Ten emails sent; zero replies. Zero emails received; one wink, but I think it was accidental. I managed to run off a girl whose number I received two years ago. No idea how I managed that one, considering I asked her out to COSI; yeah I know, great date idea. I was even blown off by a friend of a friend to whom I merely said hello and good luck (I’m totally stumped on that one). You can imagine how I’m beginning to doubt myself a little, which is highly unusual for me. Some say I have an air of confidence. Others simply call me a dick. Because of this lack of success, I decided to really focus when I was going through the picture menu on Match.com (eat your heart out, Shoney’s). I am looking for a tall blonde (shocker, I know, sis) who has a sense of humor ranked high because damn it, I’m funny. I thought I had found her: tall, blonde, into sports, ranks laughter extremely high and is studying child psychology. The last item was perfect because I act like a kid from time to time and I’m bipolar; we’d have tons to talk about. Once again, failure on my end, but it was funny, at least to me. Here’s how it went down: Email 1 To: (Radio Edit) Subject: Yeah, I’m emailing on Thanksgiving . . . Body: Response: Nothing. She’s a Michigan fan; I know, I know. Email 2 To: (Radio Edit) Subject Body: We’re on our way home from our first date (it went well) when we get into a horrific car accident. My brother (yeah, in order for the joke to work there needs to be three people, he likes you, though) and I are killed and are awaiting our entry into heaven. At the gate, St. Peter gives us the rundown of how things operate there in paradise. He points out the hot spots and warns us to steer clear of the ducks. See, those ducks are God’s “ The Brad Pitt angel replies: “ Ha-ha-ha, anything? Anything? That’s like from middle school humor, you gotta love that . . . Response: Nothing. Email 3 To: (Radio Edit) Subject: My last try, I promise . . . Body: So obviously you’re not into tall, dark, handsome and funny guys, so how about the adventurous type? Did I ever tell you the story about when I was rappelling down Mount Vesuvius when suddenly I slip, and I start to fall? Just falling, ahh ahh, I’ll never forget the terror. When suddenly I realize: “Holy shit, Derek, haven’t you been smoking peyote for six straight days, and couldn’t some of this maybe be in your head?” “ And it was. I was totally fine. I’ve never even been to Mount Vesuvius. I’m Derek, and your name is? Response: Nothing (ha-ha). Email 4 To: (Radio Edit) Subject: So I lied . . . Body: Response: TBC??? Session JP: So, did you ever hear from her? DT: Hahahaha, hell no. DT/JP: Hahahahahahahahahaha! KEY TERMS: Submitted on 12/17/10 Green After much encouragement from some of my readers (mainly family, but I’ll take it) I’ve decided to try and spread the word about this blog a little more. During my last session with my counselor, I reached two milestones: one, I gave this link to him (welcome to .e4) and two, I believe I finally came to terms with how I want this all to go. He asked me when I will think I’ve made it. So I told him: |
