It’s all coming back to me now

I’d say about 95% of the Facebook conversations I have with my friend Jamie involve Prince, or the Artist Formerly Known As. At this point, trying to remember how or when it all began is probably beyond our collective mental ability; even though that sounds like an insult, it’s not. It’s just one of those things that’s been going on that long.

As I looked through some of our wall posts to each other a few days ago, a random memory overcame me: I am somewhere – is it a bar? Is it some other sort of social function with large amounts of people? – and the song “Pussy Control” comes on the jukebox or sound system or whatever. And immediately – immediately – every single person in the room starts singing, no – yelling – the refrain, myself included.

Where the hell was this? When the hell was this?

Because this experience involved me screaming the word “pussy” I’ll put good money on the fact that I was somehow intoxicated, so I’ll probably never be able to answer those questions.

But it still bothers me.

It probably wasn’t a high school function because a) I didn’t show up to high school functions intoxicated and b) I don’t think the nuns would take kindly to our collective screaming of this particular ditty (though I’m pretty sure they played “The Thong Song” at prom, or did I make that one up?).

That leaves College And Beyond, with my years post-turning-21 as sort of a colorful blur. Just about anything is possible (see the Drunkenly Making Rice Krispie Treats On St. Patrick’s Day incident), and so it’s hard tellin’ just when this actually happened. I doubt that I made it up – I swear I can remember what the collective yelling of “ooooooohhhhh pussy controooooool!” sounded like – but… who knows.

Maybe it was just a dream.

A really, really fucked up dream.

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