Sugar, Sugar. Aw, Honey, Honey

I intended to go to bed early last night with my healing crystal (which is really a beautiful crystal and not some weird synonym for a vibrator. This is not the path I wanted to take, but to be honest, I'm not a big fan of the machines in the boudoir--not knocking, mind you, just not all that into it. Point, where did you go?)

... but I was compelled to stay up and dick around on the Internet.

So, in exchange for the lost sleep, I found a total deja vu experience.

Another ex-boyfriend story. Sue me. I'm feeling nostalgic.

I was 15 when I fell for Michael. He was a crafty mix of jock/artist/raver kid (c'mon, it was 1995. Cut me some slack, please. You know ya'll had Jean Co's--Jinco's to the initiated. Shurt up).

I adored Michael, and he adored me and Michael's ex-girlfriend, Brandy, didn't like either of us very much. Okay, she loved Michael and thought I was a skanky hoe. (Virgin till I was 19, kids. Technically, anyway. Again, no judgment. Just sayin'.)

Hullo again, Point: As "the nice girl," I had no natural enemies, except Brandy. All through the year-and-a-half of high school we attended together, hoo boy, she hated me. Even after Michael and I broke up (some silly thing where he misunderstood "getting a ride home from Brad" as "getting a ride from Brad." Oh, adolescent drama. How stupid were we?).

Then, junior year, I moved away. Then I moved back when I was 18 and somehow thought attending cosmotology school was a good idea.

On the first day, who should I see but Brandy? She sneered at me for a hot minute, then I said, "Hey, that was, like, two years ago. Forever. Let's be friends."

And Brandy said, "Well, yeah, I am dating this super hot guy now, so, okay." The "feud" was finito, and Brandy and I rolled perms together and did French braids and even pedicures in tandem.

But, alas, I simply was not very good at being a cosmotologist. I turned my Dad's hair green. Literally. So, life goes on. After 900 hours of practical training, I said goodbye to Brandy and the girls at Hairstylist Academy in Statesville, NC.

So, here we are, eight years later, and I'm staying up past my bed time to dick around on the computer. And I run across Brandy's professional hair styling Web site, and she looks great, and the site looks great, and everyone's great.

Then--THEN--I check out her "gallery" of makeovers, and who do I see but my good friend and old roommate, Bridgett, looking way hotter than should be legal, thanks to Brandy's scissors.

It was too much for me. Serendipity done did me in. Except that I don't know what the message is. Then I got wicked deja vu talking to my roommate, whose name is also my Mom's name, with the same unique spelling.

To protect the innocent, I won't reveal her name, but suffice to say, it would be like meeting two Mikes who spelled their name "Myke." It just doesn't happen.

So, now it is well after midnight, and I need to get to bed, except that I'm all ramped up with no one else awake to figure out these life-altering coincidences. Or, maybe not. I don't know.

All I had for dinner was popcorn, so my blood sugar might just be low.

In the Comments section, tell me what happens when your blood sugar is low.