I am now fairly certain I have brain damage.
Some days the damage seems minor, and other days it seems pretty major. For example yesterday I was not a drooling mess. Today however, my brain has shat the bed. At least I think so, based on the looks I'm getting from what constitutes as my friends and family here at Auburn Lake Preparatory Academy.
More on my failings as a thinker later.
We had our version of Grand Central Station here yesterday. More people on campus alive and kicking than we've had here in a long time. What was the roll call? Abby, Gilbert, Patty, Gavin, Mike, Lisa, Mallory, Siobhan, Sarah, Jenna, Hector, Chris, Ollie, Melissa and me. That's like an entire country's worth of people nowadays.
The four people who had come to help out for a day or two were meant to return back to Westfield yesterday afternoon, but Mike changed the plan up and drove his people out here. He had awesome news to share.
Westfield is now +1 little boy. Jeffrey Daniel Langston, born on April 28th at about 3pm. Name sound familiar at all? She named him after the late Lt. Daniels. I am very, very happy with that. I hope I can get to know little Jeff a lot better than I got to know the man he was named after. Mommy Jeannette is doing well, and Mike reports (out of earshot of Lisa) that Lisa performed everything without flaw.
Morally, I find this to be an enormous victory for everyone. The fact that a new person, living and whole, came into this world safely gives us hope. He smiles, burps, farts, cries, and makes us feel like there's a reason to keep doing what we're doing.
Everyone from Westfield that arrived yesterday had the biggest smile on their face all due to him. Today, everyone here has the same smile. It's like the sun came out.
The joy of a new birth notwithstanding, I am still very goddamn sore. My entire right side from armpit to waistband is covered in various assortments of unnatural colors. I've got blues, some purples, a few red blotches, a couple nice accents of black, and I think there might be a magenta touch in a few places.
Saying it's tender is a major fucking understatement.
Lisa gave me a quick once over yesterday while we were all at lunch together and officially said I would live. The looks on everyones face when I pulled up my shirt to show her were fucking priceless. Reminded me of those reaction videos youd see online when someone would watch something fucked up like two girls one cup, or lemonparty, and they just video the faces of those people. Lots of gasps of ewww
Just for the record, I would like to say that I have never watched, or visited either of those aforementioned subjects. I'm only aware of them due to the reaction videos I've seen.
After telling me some light exercise to do, Lisa also took the time to check out Melissa. That whole prenatal care thing I was talking about. From what I can recall, she gave her and the little one inside her a clean bill of health. A huge lunch with all of us present was a real treat. It felt like our version of an Easter dinner, though a few days late. I kind of forgot about Easter. Not a holiday I celebrated much before well, you know. I do kinda miss the candy though. Those little fucking chocolate eggs with the thin candy shell were the shit. I could eat those by the motherfucking trough.
With all the extra hands and good weather, we hit the field and worked together to get fence in the ground. Well, Gilbert and I operated the water jugs and watched from a very comfortable set of lawn chairs. He and I polished off the last of the Johnny Walker Blue, which I didn't care for much until the second glass. After that, it was fucking delicious.
I have no idea where the hell we got enough fencing already, but the entire athletics field is now sealed off. Ollie yanked up some of the unneeded fencing around campus to lay it out in a more useful pattern, which may explain where we got the inventory. He's also mixing concrete to shore up some of the posts that need a little oomph.
I had a good time watching all the girls strip down to tank tops and get sweaty in the warm spring sun. I don't think I've seen that much living female flesh in a year. I started to get a little lippy and flirtatious I'm told towards the end of the day, and I guess Mallory and Gilbert got me up and into bed to keep me out of trouble. I get sassy with the females when I get into the sauce.
I woke up this morning with chest pain, head pain, a powerful stomach ache, and a bucket filled with puke to show for all my trouble. Conspicuously, I also woke up naked. I'm really hoping Mallory stripped me down, because if I got undressed by Gilbert That's just fucking weird. Old man hands all over me. I like Gilbert, but eww.
Mallory's hands all over me Now that's an entirely different matter.
I'm sure shed be all wet and wild thinking about getting her mitts on my bruised, battered, beaten, and drunk ass. I personally think I'm like the definition of unfuckable right now.
Alright I guess this is as good a time as any to discuss my mental shortcomings. I mean, I'm on topic.
So when I woke up this morning there was a can of fruit cocktail on the bed stand, a spoon, a small bottle of Pedialyte, and a post it note with a short message on it written in an obviously feminine handwriting.
The note said this: The best cure I could manage for a hangover. Hope you like the trim.
Like, what the fuck did that mean right? And obviously I was in a state of general uselessness having just woken up, and double the useless because I was hung over to boot. I sat there reading the fucking note trying to figure out if I'd gotten laid, when I figured I'd resort to the tried and true method.
Weiner sniff test.
Now obviously I cant put my nose on my cock, because if I could, I wouldn't be pining for vagina and complaining about the state of the fucked up world I live in. All of these journal entries would consist of; sucked myself off again today. Saw some zombies outside. Later. Adrian
The official Adrian M. Ring weiner sniff test consists of an exploratory hand into the nether regions that is subsequently sniffed for the tell tale odor of vaginal residue, and/or jizz crusties.
Sadly, I failed the sniff test. I smelled like sweaty balls.
However, when I gripped my junk, I put two and two together.
I got a whole different kind of haircut while I was passed out.
Here's a rare moment Mr. Journal. One where I realize that I am indeed, dumb as a fucking door hinge.
If I had a camera running right now, you'd see me shaking my head slowly in sad, dejected frustration. Ayep.
I'm gonna go out on a limb here, and say that I think Mallory may be willing to jump my bones. I am kind of excited by this. The more I think about it, the cooler she seems. I mean, she's got a great story, she's pretty good looking, she's funny, and she's got attitude, which I am totally cool with. I hate pushover chicks. Tough is sexy.
When I finally shambled downstairs I was all alone. There was a note on the kitchen counter near the microwave for me from Patty saying that the crew was downtown again looting, pillaging, and trying to procure more fencing for campus.
I spent the day fantasizing about just how exactly Mallory got my crotch shaved without everyone else catching on. I also played some Playstation. Poorly.
Humorous how the thought of getting laid can entirely ruin your train of thought. I can say that with extra emphasis because I stopped after typing poorly and sat here thinking about sex for five minutes before picking up again. Cue the lol.
When everyone returned safely, and un-shot, unlike my last trip downtown, we had a good old family dinner together. Everyone was very attentive to my needs due to my injury, but they were merciless to me regarding my drunken exploits on the day they are now calling drunken fence day.
I can't remember much of anything, and based on their subtle accusations, I apparently was quite an ass.
Protip: painkillers and Blue Label can really hinder your decision making abilities.
When everyone settled in for the night I went to the only person I felt I could trust with my Mallory dilemma.
I don't know why I thought she was the one to ask about this, but I went to her, and now I need to ride the consequences train. To greatly summarize a painfully awkward conversation, I basically asked her how much of an ass I was to Mallory yesterday, and whether or not she thought Mallory was hitting on me.
The entirety of Abigails response to me, was a minute long slow clap. Then she walked away.
I am so digging that fucking icy hot out.
I think I'm stupid. The more I think about it, the more I come to the same conclusion over and over. I am fairly sure that Mallory has been into me, and I have been missing all the signs that she has been sending me.
And in retrospect, I think there have been a lot of signs sent my way by her.
What the fuck do I do now? I'm all nervous and shit. It doesn't help that I feel like I got into a kicking match with a goddamn donkey and lost badly. I am almost a hundred percent sure this chick wants my shit, especially after she handled my manly parts and still left a flirty note. If she wasn't interested in handling them again, there would've been no note.
I guess Mike will be here again on the 8th for a visit for more water, so I guess my course of action is to use this time to get healed up, and then say some nice things to the big guy upstairs and hope Mallory makes the trip, and I regain enough testicular fortitude to talk to her.
Why the fuck am I so nervous?
Out of practice? Do I really like her and I am again too stupid to realize it? Or is this a Cassie guilt thing? Fucked if I know.
Just took two Percocets and an Ambien for the night. This sleeping upright thing is fucking with me badly. I hate sleeping sitting up. Medication for the win. I need to be careful though. I'm popping pills like Skittles on Halloween here, and the last thing I need after all this bullshit is to get hooked on something. Im gonna check that medication desk reference tomorrow to see what pills I can rotate to try and avoid any addiction issues. Worst case, I go cold turkey, and deal with the pain.
Something occurred to me earlier, just as I sat down to write this. I even went back and re-read what I wrote the other day because I was unsure of my memory.
When I got shot by that guy, he said we're home, not I'm home.
Who is we, and where are they? Is there a family downtown that is now minus a dad, minus a gun, and on their own, all alone?
That thought will keep me up tonight.
I hope the medication is stronger than my imagination.