Red Eye Liner

So, I am exhausted. I haven't been this tired since I quit caffeine cold turkey in January nad I'm starting to get a head ache as well. Absolutely miserable. Forgot to put the aleve in my bag so now I am super miffed at me. Ergo the fact that it's going to look like I'm wearing more and more red eye liner as the week goes on. I hope that the construction people decide not to work on Saturday, I'm building up what must be one hell of a sleep debt.

So, I've been remembering something that is cracking me up. The remembrance is brought on by the scene in True Blood where Alex Skarsgard wears a skirt. The commentary says that apparently he really enjoyed wearing a skirt. Which brings me to my remembrance of tall guys who like to wear skirts. I had this friend who worked at camp Horizon with me. His camp name was Samson, and we discovered the first year there that Samson loved to wear flowy long skirts. He was 6'4" our first year at camp and I'm not gonna deny that I had a little bit of a crush on him (he bit me, what can I say?) Unfortunately Samson also did and dealt a ton of drugs, which made him cool for hanging out with, but not dateable since I do try to stay away from drug dealers. So, the specific story of Samson in a skirt that I am remembering is not from my first year at camp, but my second year. Samson grew two inches in a year, came back and was 6'6" (freaking huge, also still attractive) and one day we decided to have a contest where us girls shaved some of the boys legs to see how fast it could be done (the campers always found gender bending extremely amusing). So Samson's legs got shaved. We only did up to the knee. Of course then he borrowed the razor and finished the rest himself. This was Friday afternoon before our evening dance and Nora and I decided that Samson needed an appropriate outfit for his newly shaved legs. We supplied him with a jean mini skirt and a very attractive red plaid top. I don't think any photos of this outfit exist, which is much more the shame. There was a camper there that week that had already decided that Samson was his boyfriend, so Nora and I spent much of dinner and all of the dance protecting Samson from the camper that wanted to kiss him. Which was really fun for both of us because it involved a lot of smacking Samson around and grabbing his bum. Obviously greatness. After the weekly dance we always went to the camp fire and sang the end of the week songs, all of the counselors standing in a line with our arms wrapped around each other sharing our favorite memories of the week about our campers. Nora and I stood on either side of Samson, hands firmly grabbing his bum. He was getting a little pissy at that point because he was too tall and couldn't reach our bums.

No doubt we probably paid for all of that later in an impromptu night time wrestling match. But it was all good fun and I've been thinking about it the last few days and laughing really hard. Probably half from lack of sleep and partly just because I am crazy. I wonder what happened to Samson. I heard that he ended up going to drug & alcohol rehab a few years ago and I hope he's doing okay. He's the only man who's ever written me a dirty poem. It was so great. I'd love to look him up again, but I'm afraid he was in such a drugged up haze back then that he would hardly remember me at all. So sad.

Now that I've gotten that off my chest I feel much lighter. All those worries about people who you don't really know. Such a strange, surreal world I live in.