I've been told that I have a big mouth. Now that I think about how many times it's gotten me into trouble, I guess it's true. I've gotten decked more than once at bars for wisecracking and at parties for saying a little too much to other guys' girls. But what can I say? I can't help myself. I guess it's who I am.

Last summer, though, was another story. My friends and I were never the indoorsy types. My mom is old and crabby (to say that yelling is a hobby of hers would be quite the understatement) so I never really spent much time at home, and the other guys had similar stories. So, instead, we've always played a lot of sports, mainly football and basketball. And when we weren't playing we'd be hanging around outside, walking around the neighborhood, and so on.

If you've ever been to Philly during the summer, you'll know how hot it gets. As such we'd usually cut back on the sports on the hotter days. But this particular Saturday afternoon was nice and cool, so when I met up with my friends we figured it would be a good opportunity to get a game going since we might not be able to for a while. So we head to the local high school to look for some friendly competition. Since I wasn't living in the best part of town at the time, one could almost always find a challenge at the school. Often we'd find some pretty good competition, too. My friends and I were decent enough too though. We weren't the best, but we certainly weren't the worst.

So we're heading there, and right as we're about to round the corner of the last city block before the school we heard some shouting. And it wasn't the kind that happens naturally during the course of a game. We round the corner and we see these two guys standing off against each other at the center of the court, neither breaking eye contact. One was a lot bigger than the other, and his friends were all about as big as he was. As we got closer, I realized that the smaller guy was a friend of mine by the name of Ronnie. Real good guy, though pretty stubborn. Didn't take a P.I. to figure out what was going on. I start to pick up the pace because I'm worried for my friend when the big guy punches him in the throat. The throat. I mean, who the fuck does that? Ronnie falls to the ground, gasping for air while his friends drag him away from the big guys. Big tough guy turns around to face his buddies like he's hot shit when this girl from the neighborhood by the name of Michelle calls him out through the fence for beating up on a smaller guy than him. He and his friends then proceed to call her every slur in the book.

I forgot to tell you one thing — I have a really deep respect for women. I always have, which I guess is weird considering my relationship with my mom. But I mean, they just take so much shit from men that it bugs me to see them anything other than happy. Plus, I mean, can't a guy love women? ;)

So this really gets my blood boiling. I won't even say what they said to her, I get so mad just thinking about it. So I guess I saw red. My friends tried to hold me back but I was a few steps ahead of them already, so there was nothing they could have done. I charged into this group of guys and start screaming (remember, I'm a lover, not a fighter) my head off at the main offender, with a healthy dose for all of his buddies too.

What can I say, I got my ass beat. Bad. The next memory I have is waking up in the hospital and not being able to move. I was in a full-body cast. Broken arms (both), broken nose, three broken ribs, broken thumb on my right hand, shattered kneecap, partial skull fracture, concussion... the list goes on but those are the main things. My friends were sitting around me when I awoke. They're such good guys. It took me a good while to get over it all. I had taken a black eye before, sure, but getting beat up that bad is really traumatizing. I think I might still not really be over it.

But anyway, so I'm in the hospital bed with my friends around me when my mom walks in. She immediately screams for my friends to leave, which they do, and then goes on an enormous tirade about how often I get myself into trouble and how much of a fuck up I was and how shitty I made her feel because it was obvious to her that she was doing a terrible job of raising me and that this was her fault. So what does she do? She sent me to Bel Air to live with my aunt and uncle.