I'm tired as all hell, but I'm here, checking in lest you think I fell off the face of the Earth.

I worked my ass off in Texas. No shit. I've never been happier to come home.

I can describe Texas in word: FOOTBALL.

It's more than a sport: It's marriage; it's family; it's tragedy; it's the future; it's hope; it's church every day of the week.

I can't even imagine a life for a boy growing up in Texas who doesn't play football.

And I found myself getting swept up into the mania. But that's easy for a drama queen like me.

I went to a college of 3000 people. It was daunting and exhilarating to walk the mammoth campus of UT Austin. It made my heart beat a little faster and it made me feel like college.

Oh, so college.

There was one point, where I walked across campus with a group of Olympic althetes, toward the stadium. Walking among them, I felt proud and happy to be alive and in such inspirational company. Suddenly I looked up, and I saw the sun shining down and reflecting off of the bleachers of the stadium and I squinted at the beauty of new metal glimmering in the sun, metal rising straight up to the heavens. I said, almost under my breath, "That stadium...looks like...GOD." And the athletes laughed at me, one of them placing her long, graceful fingers - fingers that had clutched a gold medal signifying she was the BEST in the world at what she did - on my shoulder, and chuckled as she said, "Girl, you need to get on out!"

Maybe I do. Maybe I do.

*~*

I could live in Austin. Yes, I could. I had an itch in my boot from the moment I arrived, to go see some live music. Unfortunately, my schedule would not allow for that.

But as my colleagues and I exited our hotel and passed this uber-cool looking guy carrying a guitar going into the hotel, I couldn't help myself from turning to him and saying with a wink, "I play the harmonica, you know,"

To my surprise, he turned and laughed and responded,"And I'll bet you do it well." And he had the sass to wink right back at me!

I gotta get back to Texas.

*~*

Summary of Saturday:

I head back to the bar from last week to make a pathetic play to the bartender that I j'adore.

Allow me to tell you about my taxi ride downtown, because as my friend Jen pointed out, this would only happen to me.

I get into a NORMAL yellow taxi. Except, I notice that there's a metal plank laid down, covering the wells where you would normally rest your feet.

Strange, I thought, but maybe he didn't like his carpets getting ruined? Then I stare in front of me. There is a magazine rack, duct taped to the back of the front seat. Filled with Forbes, Fortune, Opera News, NYT Magazine, etc.

I comment on the innovation. He says thanks and tells me there's a full bar with snacks behind me in case I get hungry. I turn around, and the entire back shelf is loaded with candy, mints, candy canes, SOUP CANS, soda's, lollypops, etc.

I get a little freaked, but shake it off. A character, I remind myself. The guy's just a character trying to get an extra buck during the holidays.

I stare out the window, but he won't leave me alone. He turns to me and says, "Lotta Mr. Wrong's out there tonight, huh?" I said, "You think?" He says, "Sure. It's ultimatium season. This is when the ladies start pushing for Mr. Right For Now. And if you're not ready for that, you're Mr. Wrong. Yup, Lot's Mr. Wrong's 'bout to find that out."

Now I'm paranoid. I'm thinking, did I date this guy? Was he another one of my horrible break ups? Did I take his number and never call? Do I look like a former girlfriend, wife?? Sweet Jesus, help me.

I tread carefully, until I catch his face in the mirror and confirm that we did not date. "Oh, I wouldn't know about that."

He asks me if I would like to hear his comedy. I decide to humor him, and say "sure." I remain calm. Although I am wondering how much damage will be done to me if I open my door and roll out of the car on FDR drive...The next thing I hear, is porn, coming out of the speakers. It was like, audio porn. Nasty.

"What is this," I snap. "From Comedy Central," he says, "You don't like it?" "No," I reply.

The next thing I know he puts this nature tape in. I try to relax but all I hear in my mind is "Put Precious in the bucket...NOW!" and I hope to GOD I don't end up in this sicko's basement, dressed in his mother's clothes or in a well or something. I think back to the guy who I saw get out of the cab before me and I hope he remembers my face when the story of my disappearance breaks.

I surruptiously start writing secret messages to loved ones using lipliner on gum wrappers. I hide the wrappers in the backseat so that they nail this guy when they find my dismembered corpse.

I was so absorbed I barely heard him when he said to me, "Oh, there's a couple of birds flying aorund back there. Sorry about that, I couldn't get them out of there."

I freak. "What?!?! Birds!?" "Yeah, you hear them?" he asked. "Sorry about that." I jerk forward and start swatting around my head. Then I realize he's talking about the chirping on the nature CD. Or at least I hope so.

I do not sit back. I am on the edge of my seat. Visions of the bone collector have taken over. I tear up, thinking about the search for me. I wonder if you all will notice I'm missing. You don't know my real name, so none of you will KNOW that I haven't abandoned you, NO, I have a met a TERRIBLE, TERRIBLE DEMISE!!!

I hardly flinch when I hear him say, "Oh, Sorry about that leak back there. You hear it? Stupid pipes. Can't get a good plumber these days." I hear the sound of water trickling on the CD.

I wonder if this is a version of mental water torture. I wonder if he is trying to drive me insane so that I will not try to escape when he drives me to the dungeon where I am held captive for three or more years. I wonder if this is the first step toward a broken spirit.

I rethink the idea of jumping out of a moving car. I will use my hands to break my fall. I will jump and roll over the hood of a parked car, Starsky and Hutch style.

I hear a rattle on the floor and I GASP, "NO!" There's a snake in the car I think. It's going to come up from under the metal flooring and constrict me. MY GOD! I am freaking now. This is much worse than anticipated. Once bitten, how will I get to a hospital for treatment in time?!? I close my eyes and breathe. Get out of the car, I tell myself.

Breathe. Breathe. Relax. Calm down, and tell him to let you out. I heard myself saying, here is fine...

And he stopped. "Good Luck with Ultimatum season," he said cheerily. "You too," I said.

I tipped him a few extra bucks for good measure. He handed back my change with a homeless flyer, "Would you be kind enough to give to the homeless fund tonight..." I found myself just throwing a five into his area as I fled the cab.

I would have given money to Stalin to get the fuck out of that cab.

I tell Jen the whole story as we stake our claim to bar stools.

Later that night I found out from another bartender that the Mountain man is as freaky as I thought. Total anarchist activist. Love. But he has a GF.

I left the bar, dejected. Plus, I had told myself all night, that if he came over and said good-bye, then he liked me and I should go for it. But if he left without saying goodbye, I should forget it.

I sat there with my back to him as he bundled up. Willing him to come over, barely hearing what my friend was saying.

Please come over, please come over, please come over.

Didn't happen. So he doesn't like me. Time to move on.

*~*

Sunday, went to brunch up in Harlem. A bunch of couples and me. Oh, and Jen. But she doesn't count because I hooked her up with a guy at the bar on Saturday night.

New Years is rapidly appoaching. I have nobody to kiss.

I am starting to panic.

*~*

Did I mention that dyed my hair red? Think, Shirley Manson. Think "Run, Lola, Run." Think cherry Kool Aid.

Desparate times, call for desparate measures.

Mothers, hide your sons.

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