First the apology

Before we start, let's talk a little about Tiny Cat Pants. A metablog moment, if you will. As you all know, having so kindly put up with it, occasionally I find something about myself that I must think out and talk through and this has been an important forum for that. Last night I stumbled across some part of me I had no idea was there; I didn't know what to do with it when I found it; and I didn't sit down and have some heart to heart with a dear girl friend or call my mom and talk it out with her. No, instead, I got dressed up and left the house. You know when you see those jackasses at the bar that you know just showed up looking for trouble? They're going to grab somebody's ass and get all belligerent with that someone's date and, for some inexplicable reason, punch the bouncer? The whole "I don't know what to do with myself so I'm going to take it out on the world" thing? That was me. So, to the two Republican chicks I dragged to the party full of things (legal and not) that made you so uncomfortable that you left me there--sorry. To the boy in the Professor's car who I totally flashed for no good reason other than to do it--sorry. To the guy on the phone in the parking lot at Silverado's who I hooted and and yelled, I think (if I didn't yell it, I sure meant to), "Show me your tits."--Sorry. To the women in the bathroom ahead of me, at whom I yelled, "Hurry up ladies. It doesn't take that long to piss."--Sorry. To the little law student who had to ask me not to speculate about the size of his penis--Sorry. To all the folks trying to dance who actually knew the dances and couldn't get around me--Sorry. If you were groped, pushed, leered at, or fought with and I've neglected you specifically--Sorry to you as well.