Reflections On My Life 18-21 (uncensored)

Happy To Have This Past Behind Me

             Thank you. Thank you. Wow (hesitate) I might not be able to match that level of enthusiasm                                 with this set. You people are at about a 9. (Raise my hand to the imaginary nine sarcastically)                               My comfort zone is around a 4 (Lower hand to 4).  MAYBE a 5 on holidays…or after a good              shit. So…I’m excited to be here, just maybe not as excited as you people. 

I’m excited to be anywhere after making it 45 years without knowing I was neurodivergent. So if my jokes are funny, it’s my comic genius. If they miss the mark, screw you. I'm on the Spectrum.

Anybody here have a dog whose life they would save before the other humans? I had a chihuahua named Tony. He loved four people. Me, My mom, My dad, and my memaw. Tony was a dick to everybody. He even pissed on the preacher’s leg one day at my house. He may be in doggy hell…or purgatory…I’m afraid there’s no Rainbow bridge for you, Tony…, you little shit..., I find heaven to be a ridiculous construct fashioned to comfort those who can’t live with a finite existence. BUT if there was a heaven for people, I could see me getting off that giant escalator and being met by those I loved. They’d be holding a sign…in big black marker it would say HOLY SHIT. THEY LET YOU IN. Especially if people in heaven can see and are interested in what I have done with this life…recreationally.

 

For my first 16 years of life though, I was a Jesus freak. I was the holiest of the holy rollers. I looked down on the ungodly with pity. I grew up Southern Baptist.

 Sunday morning.
Sunday night.
Wednesday night.

They told me everyone else was going to Hell. Then my youth pastor quit because of a falling out with our pastor. Apparently eternal truth was not to be debated.

Heartbroken, I left my church at 17 and naturally concluded...

"Well...I guess I'll sell some crack." My 16 year church boy run…was then no more.

That church shit fucked with my teenaged mind. It didn’t follow the rules. So, I decided the whole church thing was bullshit. Acting right all the time wasn’t going to get me into heaven. I had no desire to debate the matter or remain with that crowd.. I decided to purchase some crack instead... and sell it… 

I saw Boyz In The Hood and New Jack City when they came out. Apparently I misunderstood the filmmaker’s intentions. So I thought, I’ll sell some crack. Had never smoked a cigarette, didn’t like drinking, and I hated weed. So, obviously no crack. Didn’t even know what a crack pipe looked like. 

I got the gold little hoop ear ring, and the level up diamond stud above it. To this day I don’t see how I didn’t get arrested. I was up in the hood. Just a crazy ass white boy tryina make a dolla. I just sold it for about 2 weeks before my little brother narced on me.

He did this, not to help me redeem myself... I refused to sell HIM crack. So he told my parents. Try to appreciate this for a moment. Age 16 holy roller, heaven’s gates motherfucker. Age 17 rolling in the hood making my money off one of the most notorious drugs at the time. So, two good weeks. Then my brother, “Do y’all know Kevin is selling crack, momma?” Arrrggghhhh. They took my car away and put an end to my total bad ass plan for becoming a gangsta pimp.

I enjoyed it while it lasted. Fast-forward 6 months to college. You see it was about this time that I arrived at my fully actualized 18 year old self. Turns out, the first thing college taught me was that I was a straight up slut. I hadn’t known much about girls in high school, but it turns out that college chicks like a challenge and found me irresistible. 

The challenge was that I had identified as bisexual based on a few experimental situations. All those girls heard was, he’s not straight. Then many, many of them proceeded to try to convert me... so I would sign a contract with the straight team. It was a panty dropper. I had to buy a pager. I wasn’t the crazy ass crack dealer. I needed it to keep my bitches straight. If my Tuesday bitch paged me about slipping in on Monday, I would have to insist she honor the schedule. I had tried two in one night back to back, but my fully drained balls didn’t deliver a stellar second show.

(Note: I'm not the kind of guy that goes around calling women bitches whether they are or not. I just added it here because it seemed funny. I'm not a pimp either. I retired my slut crown when I got to Texas at 19. Once I called my girlfriend a bitch in 11th grade. That didn't go over well at all. I don't use the "C" word either when referring to women. That's like the "N" word for chicks of any color. Absolutely unnecessary.)

My ego was getting ginormous. Finally I quit college and moved to Dallas where my girlfriend had moved to upon graduation. That was a tough night. Let me tell ya. I had to tell her that over the course of the past week in her absence, I had hooked up with like 5 different girls. I may have been a slut, but I was not a liar. I had to do it one girl at a time. So imagine you haven’t seen your boyfriend for a week. The first couple, she was a trooper about, Monday, Tuesday, but by the time I got to 3 Wednesday then 4 Thursday then 5 Friday, I had broken her. I was the poster child for shitty boyfriends. Despite this, we got a place together. I got a soul crushing job at the mall in housewares during the day and as a security guard overnight for a car dealership. Livin the dream in Big D.

Talk about a corrupt work ethic. I would dismantle the analog timeclock (It was 1995) and fiddle with it til I had my weeks worth of the security guard work on a timecard so I could leave early and serve my sentence in 90’s retail at the mall. Quitting that job was one of the most fulfilling things I had done in my 19 years on the planet. So I worked the security job. 

Speaking of crazy, I made $6.75 per hour and could afford an apartment with one bedroom and a study. I knew I was going to need the study for my desk and computer because about this time computers and the world wide web were becoming horn dog heaven. I was hooked on the porn at 19 before you could stream it on your phone. My cell phone back then was a brick. The phone had a two-hour battery…Useless. Ah, but

Dell computers…

they were making fine machines even in ‘94. (This was before VPN’s, Cookies, 2 factor authentication.) The net was still uncharted and untamed. Like the wild west.

I actually had my first visual hallucination one night parked in my patrol truck close to a fire hydrant. I was seriously sleep deprived. Undiagnosed bipolar. The fire hydrant all of a sudden, sprouted two beadie eyes, then the mouth appeared, the arms with fancy cane and the legs became animated. It jumped up off the ground and started dancing a jig. I didn’t know what to think… What the fuck? I rubbed my eyes..., still dancing just like a Looney Tune. 

Finally, after rubbing my eyes like 3 more times and giving my face a good slap, it went back to being a fire hydrant. “Hmmm. That’s no ordinary fire hydrant. It’s just not something one see’s every night. So I got a set of keys from the showroom floor and lowered the seat into a bed in a custom van and passed the fuck out.

The next morning I went home thinking nothing of it. I grabbed my fifth of gut-rot cheap tequila with 2 worms floating lifeless in it and proceeded to get drunk with Tony the chihuahua. That was the mid nineties. 

Tony didn’t drink, but he was cool…,an asshole as a neighbor. One day, when I got home from the car dealership, I took him out for a walk to piss and shit. So I’m walking Tony, and he guided me to the next building over. I shit you not, he dropped a load on a neighbor’s Dallas Morning News right in front of their door. We had fun. 

Sleep is muy importante to this here gringo, but I was drunk and manic every day and didn’t need sleep. I could sleep on the oversized leather couch on the showroom floor if I had to, that night or any other night.

My girl and my father decided 6 months later that maybe military service would help me find direction. It did. As an Air Force Firefighter I found a love for beer and a 27 year old Navy chick who was fun and found me amusing. I broke up with the Dallas girl, Tony bit her once when she tried to take him for a walk. That phone call didn’t  go as she expected. “Tony bit you?” “What the hell did you do to my dog?” I called my dad and said, “You gotta rescue Tony. I’m dumping the Dallas girl and don’t want to go back there for my stuff after fire school.” He was like, “Ok, son.” 

They hauled ass for 8 hours to get to Dallas from my hometown in Arkansas. Like as soon as I hung up the phone No shit. Tony got to go home with my parents and I spent 4 months as part of a wondrous, never-ending fuckfest. I was crushing it with my very sexy, very liberated, older Navy girl 2 or 3 times a day. Totally unencumbered sexual delight every day…Then she finished training and went to her station in Hawaii. I was supposed to fly out to see her as often as possible, but I figured I could find somebody to fuck a lot closer than Hawaii.