She really doesn't like me, or it's the other way around

I vowed long ago to either never regret the things I did drunk, or not get drunk. It's an attitude that's served me well! I both have a way of coping with my ...confused memories and an out if I want to stop. And obviously, I can quit anytime I want.

*whiskey*

I'm realizing that there's one really great benefit for me for moving away. I can get away from my own tip-of-the-tongue syndrome I get most days. Here's the rundown: I'll be sitting reading on the couch in a cafe and a stranger will waltz in. Then, they see me there glancing up with what they think is recognition (It is confusion). Big smile, a 'Hey To-oh-OM!' and shake hands. I go, 'Hey yah-you! I was just on the way to the bathroom!' I take a piss and talk to myself while I wash my hands, 'Craig? Did I play soccer with him? Dan? No but it's got a D sound.'

This happens at least once a day. Twice today! (Pierre! It was Pierre the boy with the French name!) And I gather it's not to unusual when you live in one place all your life. Only for me it's a bit worse because I did live elsewhere for about 4 years now. So they get to do the BIG smile hand laugh thing and I look like Tommy-McAss-Jerk. I hate that so I usually just make up a name. Good thing my friends are all very polite.

Anyway, I'm moving 600 miles away to a city 100 times the size. And that's one thing I can relax about.

Until one of you fuckers surprises me in Central Park I mean.

And here's that Washington thing I was talking about.