OK, the party Saturday was awesome.  It was humbling to have so many friends and relatives show up. I didn’t get near enough time spent with everyone there and wanted to keep yapping all night. If you came to see me off, bless you, and thank you so much spending your Saturday night out with me. If you couldn’t make it, I thought about you anyway.  It was a fabulous night that I’ll treasure the entire time I’m gone.

The party stopping being fun for a just a little while in the wee hours on the morning. Some dork named Sloan had come with Serena. I like Serena a lot, but I think her picker is broken. She picked a real loser in this guy. I’m sure he’s sweet to her, but his social abilities were found wanting. He never introduced himself to me, although he appeared to have known who I was; he began asking me pointed questions about the “starving North Koreans” as if it were my fault or, at the very least, that by going to I supported their opposites in South Korea. Either way, not a good way to ingratiate yourself with the host. His lack of manners was just one of many things that annoyed me and several others – his body odor, his friends, his drunkeness, etc.

Mere minutes later, I found him in the kitchen with Mark, a knife in his hand and making threatening gestures. Mark and I persuaded him to drop the knife easily enough, but Mark had had enough and tossed him out clean of the house.  Fine, I thought, problem solved.

However, 10 minutes later, I found him still lingering on the front porch and I asked him to leave. He wanted to come back inside and talk to Serena, but I said he’d already been thrown out by one roommate and I wasn’t going to countermand that order. When Sloan started cursing me, I’d had enough, too. I punched him, right in the nose. He backed off down the sidewalk quickly enough, but Devon was there to stop me from making more of a mess of him, and I’m grateful for that. But dammit, that was fun popping that asshole. I haven’t punched anyone in years, but that may be because I haven’t met anyone as rude and obnoxious in my own home before.

He’s called a couple of times since then, mostly to curse us and tell us how upset he his. He told Mark that he and his friends just “play with knives” and we should have known he wasn’t serious. Sorry, life’s too short to play dumbass games with drunks.

Nice end to a great party. I get to go off into the sunset with my chest puffed up, my knuckles still deliciously tingly and feel that I saved the good people of Farmers Branch from an annoying drunk.