How high is the water?

OK. So maybe I shouldn't be judgemental, but then again.....

There is something a little off in most areas of my life right now, but I'd like to think that semi-public meltdowns are never going to become part of my repertoire.

I love our Dark Antler for many reasons, not the least of which is that it always makes me feel better about my life. The "Thank God we're OK" the place makes some of us feel is a good thing, correct?

So, on a Monday night, while Deal or No Deal plays itself out on the plasma tvs, and the bar is populated by 10 or so folks, you might expect some friendly banter, comments on the show, and more than likely an uneventful evening.....but no, not so much.

How people can abuse their bodies by drinking, smoking, pill popping, smoking other stuff, doing whatever feels good all at once is, frankly, beyond me. I say pick a vice, or two, and stick with them. They are the onces that got you into the dance, take them home with you. It's 2007, not 1967. The summer of love is over, and has been for quite some time.

There is something about being in my mid thirties and having people who are old enough to be my parents, still smokin stuff, poppin stuff, snortin stuff that makes me very uncomfortable. It makes me sad that when I think that I will be attending a funeral(s) in the next few years, and people will act shocked that partying for 40 years actually brings about an early exit from this life, unless, of course, you are Keith Richards.

So, enough of my rant.

Magic Monday finds one of our regular players sitting next to her man, becoming increasingly agitated over the course of this still early evening. Suffice it to say, the barley and hops were not the only parts of this mood's equation. I arrived to find her outside sitting in her vehicle, looking much like an extra in a Cheech and Chong movie. It takes 2 hours from that point for her to yell at her man several times for things that don't even make any sense, accuse the officer that tried to calm her down of choking her from behind, and storm out the door in a flurry of profane language and hurt feelings.

Maybe she shoulda had a V8?

Till next time...