I normally try to keep my posts in chronological order. I’m a bit discombobulated recently, so bear with me as my posts take on the rambling timeline of someone with a severe case of dementia. Due to moving, working 2 jobs, and my internet not being up at the house yet, I’m writing when I have the time and not putting as much planning and forethought into it as usual. Okay, even I laughed out loud at that one. Planning and forethought? Those are my middle names. Along with “Moderation,” “Pious,” and “Susan.” *

Without further delay, the main point of my post. I was in 5 Points here in Columbia for the annual St. Patrick’s Day festival, and Kyle and I were up to our usual antics: reading to blind orphans and serving hot meals to homeless amputees. Or we may have been consuming mass quantities of green beer, I can’t quite remember. No, wait, we were definitely drinking, because we invented the greatest drinking game of all time: Monopoly. In all actuality, we invented “Green light, bitch.” You see, in 5 Points, they close off several city blocks, but the traffic lights are still running. The game is simple, guaranteed to get you drunk, and not recommended to be played while driving. When you see a light turn green, you drink. When the light turns yellow, you drink until it turns red. The first one to yell “Red light!” gets to make someone else drink.

After several hours and countless beers, I wandered over to see Villanova play. Imagine my surprise when I look to my left and see an ex-girlfriend from 8 years ago, way back before I was with my ex-wife. She didn’t recognize me at first, in large part due to the fact that I was wearing a driving hat, aviators, and my beard had been shaved into a chin strap, bleached, and dyed green (I’ll post pictures later, Scout’s honor**.) We decided (and by “we,” I mean “she”) that I should take her out to dinner to catch up. We stopped a few places that were either too crowded or not serving food, so we went back to my house and I cooked us dinner. We enjoyed each others company so much that we wound up spending the next day together as well, and the next, and the next, and, well, I assume you can see where this is going. The “new” girlfriend is actually an “old” girlfriend, although not “older,” as she is younger than I am. How was that for a poorly worded, slightly confusing sentence?

It’s odd, really, because while it has the new car scent that all brand new relationships do, it’s also incredibly comfortable since we have so much history between us. The best part? She loves PBR almost as much as I do.

I don’t know what magnanimous deed I performed to cause this massive karmic shift in my favor, but I’m a lucky guy.

JT out.

*My actual middle name is “Delicious.”

**I never made it past the first two badges in Cub Scouts, so take that with a grain of salt.