Armed with Cheesecake and Vodka, World Watch Out, I'm Back!

This is one of the better memories, filled with a lot of laughs, martinis, and ass. Proceed with caution. Brian and I had only been dating a few months, so this was our first overnight, weekend get away to a new place.  I was excited about going to Vegas with him, but not as excited when I found out that the crew was also going.  Each weekend the crew changes, so this weekend it was Mark, Steve and Tom.  I have changed the names to protect the innocent, or in this case, the extremely guilty.

I have come to the realization that I have been living in the past constantly. The birth certificate that I finally opened is the cause.  There is no way to turn it off either.  I am not obsessing over it yet.  I continuously check the facebook messages that I sent, to see if they had been read yet.  They have not.  I am debating friending the people, hoping that then they will see the message.  Then the scary realization will come, if they want anything to do with me.

Or it could be titled, the first time my mother kicked me out of the house.  Now that I remember, it was also the last time my mother told me to get out. I was in the third grade. It was a Saturday afternoon.

I really can't remember years past, how I felt when the anniversary of his death comes closer and closer. This year I feel nostalgic. The memories have been creeping up on me. From the first time skiing together and that first cigar in the hot tub, to our first drive to Vegas.  Vegas was our town.  We had Vegas by the balls.  We would go several times a year and only once we came home a loser.  

Since I was laid off from work and most people related to me were dead I went crazy. Let me explain real quick about "Most people related to me" I was an only child. My mother was an only child. My son was an only child.