Here’s news: I’ve quit drinking.

I have finally accepted that I transform into a MONSTER when I’m smashed. After enough drinks, I grope anything that moves and my dry-humping becomes a Class-3 weapon. Screams will pierce the air, “My leg! My leg! She got my leg!”

Without recollection of my actions, the only evidence has come in the form of recorded text and voice messages and accounts from friends.

One evening at D’s place:

“Hey, check out this message I got last night.” D had a smirk on his face so I suspected it was some nasty booty call. I prepared myself for heavy reflux as he turned his cell speaker on.

“D, oh my fucking God, I’m so fucking drunk! Like, I’m sooo drunk. Like, where the fuck are you? I’m so, like, fucking drunk!” This Tourette-like speech continued for three minutes and by the time it was over, I was looking at the delighted D with disgust. Clearly, this was exciting him.

I wryly ask, “D, who’s the bimbo? I didn’t know THAT was your type.”

D’s grin got bigger.

“What? WHAT! Why are giving me that face?”

“It’s you!” He burst out laughing while I underwent minor cardiac arrest. Oh Lord, what demons of hell have possessed me! I wanted to douse myself with water and scream, ‘The power of Christ compels you! The power of Christ compels you!’

Okay, so I suffer the Jekyll and Hyde syndrome. Duality, dichotomy, is this not part of human nature? Do we not all have hidden within us a nemesis that reveals itself occasionally?

If anything, I’m disappointed that my nemesis is a mentally dysfunctional, infantile booby.

Wait, that would make (sober) me the complete opposite! Salvation!

Anyway, I joined the Steve Nash gym and cancelled my other gym memberships.

Time to invoke another monster – FITNESS FREAK.