Ahhh, Houston strikes again.

I had one of those strange weekends that only Houston can provide, and now I feel like the most unproductive person in the world.

Maybe I just need a slack day in order to get my thoughts together. Right now my thoughts are scattered like marbles on the playground. And if anyone makes a mean little bully step into the middle of the marble circle, I might just loose a couple of them for good.

Friday night was Funky D’s birthday. So I headed out to Houston with my baby boy and we caught the party mid swing. It was the typical Houston affair. Nice bar, nice drinks, nice people and a few shady ones. The shady people follow Funky D everywhere he goes.

After playing the rounds and catching up with everyone we headed back to D’s house and I ended up going to bed around 3 or 4 am. I woke up the next morning hearing Funky D doing his impression of Harry Carry and other random people yelling, “Hi! I’m Brian Fellows”. I made my way down to the pool and it was just as I suspected. A pool full of naked people left over from the night before awaited me.

I made my stop to the convenience store for my water logged friends and went back to join them in the naked debauchery. Float, talk, sip the mimosa, and laugh. A good 8 hours of doing nothing at all but being amazed at how some people party.

Poor baby boy, I warned him but it’s something else to be thrown into it. I lost him for a good 10 hours over the weekend. And this time, it wasn’t me who went astray. I was a good kid tucked in bed right where I was suppose to be. Turns out that he learned all about the nightlife and silly bars, and people with more money than self respect.

I was accused at starting drama when I suggested that I would indeed beat the shit out of the girl hitting on me. I didn’t mind it so much when I had to pry her off of me, but make one move for someone I’m dating and I’ll try and beat you to a bloody pulp.

To me it was an anti-drama statement. You do that, and I’ll do this. Like a warning, I didn’t see any harm in it. If you fart, I’m going to throw-up. That’s not drama. So why all of a sudden is, “if you do that to my guy, I’m going to beat the fucking shit out of you” so dramatic.

I didn’t mean it that way, but I still got the result I wanted. She didn’t overstep my boundaries again. That’s all I wanted.

So it’s Monday and I’m back to my real world. No one’s doing drugs here and most everyone is at work today. I have no hint of all the champagne I drank this weekend and the only thing I’m feeling guilty about is all the stuff I didn’t get done this weekend. Although, I can’t think of a thing I really need to do anyway.

When did life get so busy that I couldn’t let myself get away for the weekend without feeling guilty? And has anyone seen that green marble? I need that one.