"I live for the nights I can't remember, with the people I'll never forget."

I know that this line is way overused at this point, especially thanks to Drake, but it's very appropriate to sum up my weekend.

After spending Friday night in the Bronx drinking Sangria and not doing much else but sleeping and spending time with B, Saturday was a bit more eventful. Sister, B, Niece and I drove up to Poughkeepsie for Niece's basketball game. It was entertaining and it was a good few hours, and they weather was beautiful. Even though I almost had a handful of heart attacks with Sister driving, it was pleasant and amazing to feel the wind and sun on my skin!

We got back to Sister's house and I changed and we began drinking more of the awesome Sangria that I had made the night before. We also had a bottle of Firefly and Absolut 100 in tow. We headed to the "Liv, Love, Life" BBQ in Harlem and I was Chatty Cathy the WHOLE way...I was tipsy. I had a giant bottle of gatorade that was filled with my strong drink, but I was trying to pace myself. It was all fun and games at the BBQ until...

I blacked out.

That's right, it happened again. The last thing I remember is talking to this girl I didn't know about her son, and then the next thing I remember we went to Popeye's and I peed in Starbucks, and then after that we were back at Sister's house and B was making me come outside to hang out.

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During my blackout I was completely coherent and quite hilarious (so they say). I guess I wish I were more like blackout K. I barbecued chicken, I poured people drinks, I took shots, I ate macaroni salad, I refused to hold brother's hand while he walked me across the street, I greeted people hilariously that I haven't seen in a year (and in my memory - still haven't), I cried because Ni made me feel bad and she didn't know how much I appreciate her, I laughed, I made jokes, I met people that I will have to re-meet, I had heart-to-hearts...pretty much I had the time of my life, and I can't remember a goddamn thing.

Sunday we woke up, I went to go hang out with this guy who wanted me to come see him on Friday. We sat in my car for maybe two hours. He was entertaining and cute, but once again, he wanted to get into my pants (or at least he wanted my hand to get into his). Like a good girl, I refused and we ended up parting ways - I may see him again some time because his body is just bananas and well...I'm THAT girl.

I went back and got B and we came back to Brooklyn. We were going to go next door, but decided against that because it was mostly family and I didn't feel like being family at that time. We walked around the neighborhood, sang happy birthday to Mama and generally had a boring and relaxing night. We went to bed at like 12:30 and of course everyone and their moms texted us about things going on that night but we were already in bed.

B left on Monday and I helped make salads and marinades for shrimp and tofu for the BBQ next door. We stuffed ourselves and then I watched TV for the rest of the night.

Pretty much a glorious and relaxing weekend.

Karma, what did I do?!

I had one of those "Why me?" afternoon/evenings yesterday. You know the ones where you know that Karma must exist and then you seriously wonder "What the hell awful thing did I do to deserve this?" Well you know what? It must've been something really really heinous. I must've killed somebody in my sleep or something, because the garbage that was smacking me in the face yesterday was unbelievable.

If you're a reader of my blog, you might notice that for the past two Thursdays, I have been going to this lounge called Honey. Yesterday was supposed to be no different. I had found out Wednesday though that B would not be in town, so thinking that things might fall through, I started trying to make other plans. Since Mack stood me up on Wednesday, I naturally thought he might be available to hang out on Thursday. He was, but somehow we started fighting about money, yet-a-fucking-gain, because while I made suggestions as to what we could do for free in my neighborhood (i.e. walk in the park 2 blocks from my house, or sit on my porch and just hang out in the beautiful 75/80 degree weather)  he wanted to drink, but he didn't want to drink anything he was bringing, no, he wanted to drink what I had in the house? I have no problem sharing liquor. In fact, I prefer to share, than hoard, but don't invite yourself to my stock without 1. Me offering or 2. You offering to chip in. When I made a joke like "Oh, so you were just planning on drinking my liquor and not bringing your own? LOL" he did not laugh. He once again brought up my "apparent lack of understanding for his financial situation." Boy, please. We're all in a "financial situation", but if you can't support your damn self and manage your money, please don't come to me. I have been used far too many times for money that I'm weary of everyone now. I realized that I need people in my life that I can DO things with. I've had friendships and relationships fail because all I was doing was enabling people to live off of me and not contribute to the friendship. Enough was enough. I had really tried to make an effort to have a friendship with this guy, but it just can't happen.

We are no longer friends at all. I deleted him off my bbm (I know, big step) and although I haven't deleted him off of facebook yet (a little too drastic at the moment) I don't foresee us "making up".

So all this happened as I was on the bus going to the train to meet Chris at Blockheads and Honey. Unfortunately, all of the people Chris invited cancelled, then Chris herself cancelled, and B was back in Baltimore.. Naturally, I cancelled at this point and just went home (because I was already on the bus towards the train station when Chris made the final no-go decision).

I probably texted everyone in my phone at that point (and realized it's time for some phone book purging). This guy that I was kind of interested in responded to my text and we started making plans to hang out. I was sitting on my back porch making plans to meet him and his cousin at Honey when I got terrible news from B. She can't go on any of our international vacations this summer. My heart broke. Well there goes Jamaica, and Caribana really won't be the same without her.

I'm in a bad mood, and I'm sitting at home not wanting to go back to to the city. Mikey, the guy I used to be interested in, still wants to see me. I procrastinate for about an hour and a half and he convinces me to come to downtown Brooklyn so we can go to Applebee's. Well I'm hungry and I do kind of want to see him and it's only a "20 minute drive," so I suck it up and pull my act together and go. (20 minutes turns to 40 minutes when it takes you about 15 minutes to go 4 blocks)

So now I'm frustrated because of traffic, annoyed that I couldn't just stay in my bed, and sad about summer travel plans being fucked. I'm in an all around bad mood. I get there and Mikey gets in the car, notices my bad mood, but tries to "cheer me up" by basically telling me to "cheer the fuck up". Well he says he needs 10 minutes to change his clothes (why he couldn't do this within the past 40 minutes when I was driving to his house, I don't know...but it's irritating) He changes and we drive to Applebee's where we're going to meet his cousin and his brother.

 

We sit down and a few minutes later they come traipsing in. He's ordered 2 Long Islands by this point ($7.25 a piece - don't worry, the price is relevant later). He gives one to his cousin and forces his brother to get one. He also "forces" his brother to get a cheeseburger and fries. I'm still deciding what I want, but they're "flirting" with the waitress, and in all honesty, being a bit embarrassing, but I just keep quiet because I'm still in a shit mood (little did I know, it was going to get worse...much worse)

I finally order my food and his brother finishes his burger and they finish most of their drinks. Mind you, they were all rolling on something with plans to take more. Gotta fucking love pill poppers. I'm still irate at this point, so I'm trying to ignore the ignorant babble that is spewing from these high guys' mouths, while I watch the Bulls-Heat game. As I'm finishing my food, they decide to go have a cigarette. Now I think it's a little shady, but honestly I could use a little break from them and I'm a little relieved when his cousin leaves his sweatshirt - I take it as a sign of good faith. Sadly, 2 minutes later, his cousin comes back in to get his sweatshirt because the temperature has dropped. Bells and whistles are going off in my head like "This is bad, get the money from Mikey before they leave..." but I ignore the bells and whistles, just like I ignored the gut feeling that I shouldn't go out before I met up with him. I watch the game and I know that they're doing their pill thing, and their mom is around the corner and blah blah blah so I'm not completely convinced that they're gone yet.

I send a message to Mikey asking where he is. Mind you, it's been about 30-40 minutes that they've been gone. He calls back (or at the time I think it was him), and "he" says "My brother just got taken in by the police, they ran his name and turns out he had a warrant. I'm on my way back to you right now, I'll call you when I get outside." Wow. I'm sorry about your brother, but all I need you to do is come back and give me the money so I can leave (Mikey said that he wanted to pay for my meal - even though I said he didn't have to - HA)


Another 15 minutes pass. I send another text.

Then another 10 minutes. The game is about to end.

Another.

They went to "smoke a bone" at 10:15. The game ended at 11:15pm. I'm furious. I start calling his phone. It's just ringing out.

I give up. I need to get the hell out of there. I get the check.

I'm about to burst into tears as I charge $63.63 to my credit card. I leave the restaurant embarrassed, oh and pissed because the Bulls lost the fucking game in the last two minutes and I want to smack Derrick Rose around a little bit for all of that.

I sit in my car and burst out into tears. Like really crying, crying, crying. Wondering why does this shit happen to me? Why does it happen to me again and again? Why do I trust people and why do they always violate my trust? I just sit there and cry and get angry and have no way to blow my nose. I pull myself together enough to drive and I drive past his house, just to make sure they didn't just snub me and go back to the house.

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I go home and I feel a little better every time my engine revs because I really want to break something. However, I don't do anything that stupid and I burst back into tears just as I'm about to turn onto my block. I do the whole palm slamming against the steering wheel and screaming thing and all I really want to do are donuts in my car in the middle of the street to make me feel better...but I don't. I go home and cry some more in the shower.

Angry, angry, angry tears of betrayal. My eyes are still a little puffy.

I wound down with some tv (my favorite show is back) and that made me feel a little better and then I decide to give it one more try, calling his phone. Actually, I plan on calling at ridiculous hours in the middle of the night for the next few days, just to piss him off...but "he" answers. Well I think it's him, but again it turns out that it's his brother saying that Mikey is still being processed and that he had to go back and get his ID and they're still at the precinct and he's sorry and he understands that I'm angry and he'll try to get me at least $30 as soon as he can and Mikey really likes me and blah blah blah. I basically tell him that whatever Mikey and I were doing is over now but I look forward to his $30.

Everything just seems like a lie.

I'm this close to taking a breather from trying to meet new guys. I know summer is the worst time to do that but I don't know if I can take this anymore.

I mean who does this stuff habitually happen to anymore other than me?

How Kenneth Cole lost me $1,000

It seems that I talk about money a lot, but that's because "money makes the world go 'round...bitches."

That being said, as I mentioned yesterday I was going to tell you the story of the guy that owed me a grand (and technically HE still owes me $1000, but his mom paid $500 already - $500 more supposedly in the mail), so I will.

It all started on one fateful train ride home after work at some point last May/June. I was sitting on the train minding my own damn business from 57th and 7th, when, at the next stop (Times Square) someone got on the train, smelling absolutely delicious and sat right next to me. I was reading and tried to ignore him, whilst still trying to see him out of my peripheral vision (because I'm sneaky like that). My thoughts went something like this "Is he attractive? What the hell cologne is he wearing? Can I just lick him, because he smells so damn good it's absurd?" My response to myself "Play it cool, K. I know you've been talking about getting to know strangers on trains recently, but this might not be the best time." WELL WHY THE HELL NOT!? (awful idea in hindsight)

As we crossed the bridge, delayed as usual, I couldn't stop myself. I closed my book and placed it on my lap, took a big whiff of his cologne, breathed out and proceeded (with not enough caution).

"I'm sorry, I just have to ask...what is that you're wearing?"

"Oh, you like it? I wear so many different colognes I'm not even sure what I grabbed today." - It's Kenneth Cole Signature, by the way.

"Oh...well it smells great..."

One would think the conversation would be over, but it wasn't. What I talked about, what he talked about, I have no idea now, but we talked the whole way to my stop (which turned out to be his) as well, and wanting the conversation to continue I said "Hey I have my car at my house if you want to walk there with me, I'll drive you home so you don't have to wait for the bus."

I actually ended up driving him to his friend's house. We exchanged numbers and decided to become train buddies.

He was supposed to come over and cook Mac and Cheese for me, but he slammed his finger in the door and really fucked up his finger and I went over to his house, met his grandma and nursed his injury. We took the train a few times together and one of the time he said he was really stressed out because his mom just told him that she was two months behind on the mortgage and blah blah blah money issues. At this point, I think we're pretty decent friends. I mean, I've been to his house, he's been to mine, I've met his grandma, he's met my mom, friends, right? WRONG! But I didn't know this at the time, so stupid me offered to lend him one thousand dollars, for two weeks, until his next paycheck. I knew he had a decent job (I have his work number) so I wasn't really worried, oh and I planned on having him sign a "contract". (I still have said contract - worthless really because I knew I would never take legal action, but it's an option...) So I wrote him a check. He signed a contract. We consummated the contract, if that makes sense.

Two weeks passed and I didn't have my money, but he was still answering my phone calls. More time passed, nothing. Now he's ignoring my phone calls. I allowed this to happen for months...In December I had had enough. I went to his house (address conveniently stored in GPS) with my neighbor and another girl - both of who would throw down for me if need be. Only his grandma was home. It was awkward, but I asked if she could have his mom call me so I could explain the situation and guess what? GRANDMA ROCKS. She passed along my message. His mom called and apologized. About a month later she sent me half - after calling me to confirm she was sending it. I spoke to her last week about the second check, because he hasn't been responding to me again. Hopefully she'll send it soon.

I just want to put the whole thing behind me, but for future notice. Do not lend Jason O. Henry (pictured below) from Brooklyn, NY any form of money. He is not a friend and his mommy has to clean up his financial messes.

Time is on my side...but not yours

This morning on my way to work from a really fun relaxing evening (which I will briefly summarize later) I ran into this guy I knew back in high school (well I was in high school, he's at least 10 years older than me). He used to have this thing with my next door neighbor (not that everyone and their father didn't) and well, it's a crazy situation - I probably did something that broke the friend code, but a lot of liquor was involved and I think that someone actually has to act like a friend in order to be included in this code...but I digress. Anyway, he and I have slightly kept in touch over the past few years.

I actually spoke to him for the first time in probably a few years back in December when the shit went down with the guy who owed me a grand (speaking of which, I'm expecting his mother's check for the second half in the mail this week - I will also tell this story later in this post, but it's not the point right now.) A mutual "friend" of ours (I say friend in quotations because he reminded me this morning that he is still angry at our "friend" until he decides to "come correct" - "grown men" are ridiculous.) called him up to "help" use physical intimidation to remedy my situation after I specifically asked him not to. However, if nothing, this guy is loyal as shit, so I got a frantic voicemessage saying "So and so called me and said that you were having a problem with someone owing you money - now you know he and I aren't talking so I know it's serious - do you need me to come out there and 'help'? Call me back." I called him back and explained that the situation was blown too out of proportion and if I needed his 'help' I'd be sure to reach out.

I spoke to him a few weeks later and he told me he was working construction in Coney Island and he would take me some time (did I ever mention that I love amusement park rides? WELL I DO). Anyway, we've been playing phone tag. Moreso, he calls me because he has a bluetooth and can talk while he's driving - and I text him back because I don't like talking on the phone. Well Monday, on my "date" with Mr. Fucking Boring as Shit (he wasn't that bad - I should just call him "Mr. Stuck his tongue in my mouth the first day he met me and I'm still not interested") , he called and I answered. He asked about liquor at my house, because I'm obviously the bar/liquor store and always have a stash (I do, but not of the bullshit he drinks - who the fuck really enjoys Hennessy...YUCK!) I told him I didn't have anything he wanted and I'd hit him up when I got home. As per usual, I texted, and he did not respond. No problem, not really sweating this guy at all.

So, as I started this entry by saying, I ran into him on my way to work because he's doing construction by my job now. He finally offered to take me to Coney Island again this weekend (which I plan on postponing because it's Memorial Day weekend and I plan on stuffing my face at as many barbecues that I can find myself at) What I first noticed about him, which I usually do, is how jovial this guy is. I think his voice should be deeper for his body type and his mentality, but it's not and that always makes me chuckle a little. The second thing I notice (actually it really probably was the first) was that while I was attracted to this guy 7+ years ago - Jesus Christ time has not been good to him. He's got lines in his face, which are fine but his teeth...HOLY HELL. What the fuck happened?! He's been chewing on dirty tar covered rocks, I swear.

His mouth went from something like this:

To something like this:

Well maybe it wasn't THAT bad, but Jesus he had smokers teeth and some were missing and his breath was all tobacco-y and he was on his way to get cigarettes and how do you let yourself get like that?!

I mean he's still a nice guy and I'm going to let him pay for me and my friend to ride rides at Coney Island, but come on L, get that shit taken care of!

This got me to thinking. Have I aged well? I mean obviously I've lost an incredible amount of weight (not so much lost as had removed, but you get the idea) but will I look like that when I'm in my mid-30s? Can I see letting myself go like that?

Nah man, these teeth are going to be properly maintained forever - or at least until it's time for me to replace them all with dentures or crowns or something of the like.

----

Yesterday was lovely going to the baseball game. After wanting to kill my mother for turning one of the guards into her butler (she had him bring me three separate tickets because she was already inside and I was not for which I apologized profusely.) I met up with B and we walked around a bit before taking our seats in the nosebleeds and trying not to kill this group of hispanic teenagers that need to be smacked around by SOMEBODY.

The Yankees won in a nail-biter where they were down by 2 in the bottom of the 9th and scored 3 runs to win the game. Lots of high fives were given to strangers and it was awkwardly glorious and we all reveled in the celebration of the home team winning. Also, as my mother informed me, Frank Sinatra sings the winning song when the game is over, Liza Manelli sings the losing song....and I like Frankie better, so that made me happy.

Afterward, B and I walked back to her house with the intention of drinking sangria. Instead, I made burgers and we sat outside with this guy who is her friend and maybe mine too...that I couldn't actually tell you because I have no communication with him really beyond when I see him when I'm with her. Anyway, it was a great conversation. A lot about sex, but isn't that what most 20-something conversations are about after midnight? It was gorgeous outside. We got kicked out of the park and had to stand around like loiterers and that kind of blew, but it was fun nonetheless - even without a drink!

The commute to work was way shorter and although I almost got into another altercation with another indignant little hispanic teenage girl, the ride wasn't so bad.

Sadly, I'm actually going to leave my guy who owes me a grand story until another day. I have to leave work soon to go back to the chiro.

"So...um...yeah..." and other boring phrases

Yesterday, as per usual, I looked for an excuse not to go to the gym. I succeeded. I started going back to my chiropractor because he's going to write me another letter for the other half of my body surgery that I plan on having in October-ish. It's basically like throwing $20 down a toilet that will hopefully one day spit out $15,000. In fact, it's a lot like playing the lottery. Toss a few bills here and there and pray that it will come back to you 10-(or a million)-fold. This just reminded me that I have to reschedule my appointment for tomorrow. Either that or I'll just put off seeing the neuroscan person or whatever until later next month...but I digress.

After the chiropractor, since I had decided that I was not going to bring my gym stuff with me because I 'absolutely hate the gym on 36th and Madison. It's always so busy and I hate waiting for a machine and blah blah blah (insert other inane excuses here).' Instead, I resolved to go out for a drink that I have absolutely no interest in, for one reason and one reason alone. He pays for my drinks.

It's not that I needed a drink, per se, but I won't turn one down. I deserve to be paid for sometimes! I've spent half my life tossing money in to the wind for people because I was born into a life of moderate means, while other struggle (or at least convince me they're struggling and guilt me into "paying it forward").

However,  having no interest in this guy, not being attracted to him and being kept waiting did not make for a good start to this casual date drink sharing. I got two $12 cocktails, and was starving the whole time but I didn't want to order anything because I didn't want him to feel obligated to pay for it. So I made small talk for an hour and a half.

I don't even know what we talked about, because again, not interested. I kept looking at his overbite and weird little tooth and just a million other things I didn't find attractive about him. I was cordial, because I always am, I mean dammit I'm a LADY. So I asked about random things just to try and keep conversation going while I guzzled my "Summers End" cocktails. I couldn't even see the damn TV from where we were sitting to distract myself.

He's a decent guy though. Seems to have it at least partially together. Made a point to let me know that he lives alone, has money (and doesn't think about spending it a lot), goes out often, likes to travel...etc. Basically he flaunted the fact that we was self supported and I guess money makes up for personality/chemistry?

I might've been a little rude and was responding to a handful of messages on my phone, and I DID answer a phone call as we were both getting ready to go. Through all of that though, he still invited me over to watch the basketball game and order dinner.

What I wanted to say was "Yeah, uh, no. This hour and a half moved like molasses, I couldn't possibly spend another 3 hours with you."

What I ended up saying was "We'll get together another time, it takes me an hour to get home and I'm really tired and have to go to work tomorrow. Thanks for the drinks though!" or something to that effect.

He invited me to come over to his place and cook for him this weekend. "Ahahaha, you can cook for me while I watch the paint dry on the walls because that would be way more entertaining than you."

But, as we learned two weekends ago or so, a homecooked meal does not make up for bad company. We're just not compatible, but thank you for playing.

In other news, I was so wiped out from last Thursday that I left work early and passed out at 7pm on Friday. I unfortunately skipped the apartment warming party I was supposed to attend (and was quite looking forward to) and didn't get up until midday Saturday. Went to a party in Brooklyn on Saturday and either lost money or spent it, but either way, it was fun enough. I don't party in Brooklyn for a reason though, because there's always a fight. (Some girl stepped on my foot as she was trying to rip another girl's weave hair off her head whilst we waited for the restroom). I ended up getting into a little argument at the store on my way back home when this guy did something, and I retorted and his response was "let me stick my cock down your throat, I know you'd like that." I responded with something witty and before I even realized it, my friend (moreso this older guy I knew when I was in high school and had seen earlier that evening), who I didn't know was in the store, came to my rescue and made his "nephew" apologize profusely for making such a heinous comment. I laughed and took my tipsy ass home to gorge myself on Bodega sandwich-y goodness.

I saw this guy after that that I've known for a few months and honestly, it was a waste of damn time but he lives a handful of blocks from me and I'm a creature of convenience.

Saw an old high school/childhood friend on Sunday and that was nice, catching up at least. We're extremely different people now, but it was still entertaining!

Tonight I'm going to the Yankee game and I plan on drinking an un-Tuesday appropriate amount at B's house where I will be sleeping. I'm considering moving my chiro appointment to either Friday morning or tomorrow afternoon, because tomorrow morning just seems like an AWFUL idea. --Update: Just canceled my appointment.--

Side note: did you know that you can spell cancelled with one 'L' or two 'L's? Both are actually acceptable, but the double L looks better and yet the dictionary on here likes to squiggle it!

Quotes furnished by http://bitsotruth.blogspot.com/

$200 on a Thursday

Essentially, this is what my week has looked like:

I've had too much to drink and my liver is probably really upset at me right now. I might actually have a hernia which might actually explain the pain to my torso, but I also might be making that up.

I don't know when I became a goddamn social butterfly, but this is getting exhausting and expensive. After drinking on Wednesday and my whole MTA debacle you'd think I would take a little time to recoup, because I've been exhausted. Nope, that's not what 3/4 Rockstar's do (Note: 3/4 Rockstar is the title Mack gave me because of my partying but still having a day job - I would not accept merely being a half Rockstar)

 I had made plans with Christiana at some point last weekend to go back to Honey for happy hour drinks and dancing and I wasn't about to bail. Also, I invited Mack, who invited Nyje to come as well. In addition, I basically begged B to come as well (by begged, I mean I told her she had no choice and that I would see her in an hour - she listened because I'm THAT persuasive when I'm in a good mood)

I left work after another painfully boring day and unfortunately, after putting in my contacts, half of my eyeshadow wiped off. My solution was to go to Sephora and get them to do my make up so I could go out and not look a hot mess.

So I did. I went to Sephora where this woman "helped" me, by making me look like A CLOWN. I mean I don't know where the fuck I was supposed to be going, but it was 5pm and I wanted a clean "day-to-night transition" look. I looked like a Panda, with these dark pink, sparkly, roundish, THINGS on my eyelids. However, I smiled, said thank you, put my sunglasses back on, bought my own eyeshadow and left with some of the tester brushes in my bag. As I walked down the street I wiped all of that shit off with a little bit of make up remover I stole and a babywipe.

I had no mirror, so I didn't know if I got it all, so I because that asshole on the train with their sunglasses on. I went to Subway when I got across from Honey, and while I did not "Eat Fresh", I certainly fixed my face.

I made my way across the street to meet Chris for happy hour and there the drinking began. We were drinking with some Navy folk because it's Fleet Week until B got there. Chris and I each had two drinks while we were waiting, at a cool happy hour price of $5. Her tongue started to get a little loose and some things were said that really weren't the nicest, but I brushed them off and continued to pound back the booze.

B got there which made me happy because who doesn't love spending time with their best friend? We were drinking more. Ordered some Nachos and waited for Mack. Mack got there and initially they wouldn't let him in because the fool wore silver damn SNEAKERS... to a lounge...in Manhattan...I swear this kid is brilliant. Anyway, Nyje got there and she joined us in the little outside area we were drinking in. Since the bouncer and I are best buds, I convinced him to let Mack come into the little fenced area if he didn't actually go inside of the lounge. Then, by the grace of some god, one of the promoters came in wearing sneakers and the bouncer said that if the promoter whose party it was was going to wear sneakers, he didn't see why Mack couldn't. We all got to go in.

Mind you, we went in after 9pm and 20 cocktails. That's right, between the 5 of us we had 20 cocktails. Chris had two, Mack had two, Nyje and two. B and I? 14. I was only supposed to be paying for B, that's why I count us together. Our waitress Smiley loved us and we loved her and she kept the booze flowing.

When we got inside the dancing began and was a ton of fun. Myself, not feeling sufficiently drunk, got myself two Long Island's with no ice. I shared them, so it's fine. Then B suggested shots, and I was all for it. Nyje, B and I took 3 a piece. We left the place just after midnight, sloshed.

Mack went home,  Chris had gone home earlier. Nyje, B and I went very briefly to another bar in the meatpacking district, but since I had work in the morning...I decided to be responsible and suggest we leave. So we did.

For the first time in my entire life, I missed my train stop. I woke up with the doors closing at the stop after mine. Luckily, my train runs really local in Brooklyn and so the next stop was literally the next block. I walked home. Got in about 2:30am.

I'm quite dirty right now, but I managed to make it to work pretty much on time. Unfortunately, I found the receipt from the evening in my pocket this morning. It goes as follows:

Cocktails  $100 (20 @ $5)

Nachos $8

Long Island Iced Teas $26 (2 @ $13)

Shots $54 (9 @ $6)

Tax ~$14

Tip $20

Total: $222 - $40 from Christiana for her drinks and food (I guess I paid for Mack and Nyje)

Grand Total for my Thursday Evening: $182

This shit is bananas and unacceptable for a Thursday evening. I just want to go to bed!

Wednesday woes: the MTA saga continues

I've realized that this blog has become some sort of chronicling of how the MTA fucks me on a regular basis. I mean, I know they're not doing dumb things just to upset me, but sometimes I feel like the whole damn MTA is out to get me. Yesterday was no exception to this conspiracy theory.

After being painfully bored at work all day, I managed to make it to 5pm and broke out of this office like a bat out of hell. Went with the Mexican to H&M to return some stuff, and I ended up buying 4 pairs of tights that I didn't need, in anticipation of short dresses for the summer and the need to cover-up my laziness and genetically induced cellulite ridden thunder thighs. (Phew, run-on sentence much?) I unnecessarily spent $50 and had to wait on line for far too long for it to be worth it. Oh well, I now am the not-so-proud owner of royal blue micro-fishnet stockings.

Because of the shit weather we took the bus up to the Stumble Inn, where we go every Wednesday. I was supposed to go to dinner with this guy, Dwight. Another goddamn Jamaican. I've known him for a few months. Met him in person once because he lives about 15 minutes from my best friend and I was in the mood for a drive. We hung out in my car. He wants in my pants. I haven't seen him in months. Anyway, he invited me out to Red Lobster (which I don't understand why people go to when we live in NYC and there are a million amazing non-chain restaurants, but whatever who doesn't enjoy a nice cheddar biscuit sometimes...). Since it was his plan, I went with it. 8pm at Red Lobster in Times Square. This gave me 45 mins to an hour to drink at the Stumble Inn with my coworkers and friends and get down to meet him.

Needless to say, this did not happen. And no it's not because I got so sloshed and was having such a BRILLIANT time at the Stumble Inn that I couldn't possibly leave to go to meet Dwight for dinner. No, it was because Dwight decided to each lunch at 4pm and was not going to be hungry for dinner - so could we go to the movies. Sure, whatever, I had suppressed my eating in anticipation of cheddary carby goodness, but you obviously do not have that type of self control...

Now since Dwight suggested the movie, he even chose WHICH movie (which I had no complaints about), one would assume that he had looked at movie times or come up with an alternate plan, correct? WRONG. Not only did he have no idea what time the movie was playing, he didn't know where, or how to get to any of the locations that I Flixtered on my phone. I'm sorry, I am NOT the MTA (because I'm not truly evil on a regular basis) and I am not mapquest or googlemaps, why are you asking me how to get from where YOU life (not anywhere near me, mind you) to a location that I have not been to before (but will use my resources to find).

So now I'm frustrated. When I'm frustrated and haven't eaten because I had plans to go to goddamn dinner with someone and didn't want to ruin my appetite, I get a little...attitude-y. I'm sitting at the bar in the Stumble Inn, on the phone with Dwight and his heavy-ish Jamaican accent, getting irritated because the next showtime we can possibly make is at 9:45pm and I wanted to be home before midnight, which will not happen with a movie that late. At first I begrudgingly agree to still meet with him at 8pm and I will eat and he will watch and then we will go to the movies, but then he says a key phrase that will get under my skin EVERY TIME.

"Calm down, there's no need for the attitude."

Any combination of these words will send me flying off handle and will result in deep anger and the reddening of my face so much so that I might look like I was going to pop and steam was going to burst forth from my ears.

My response was "I have every right to be frustrated...etc" We still try to plan to go to 84th street now at 8pm, but I'm really not interested at this point and then...

I hung up the phone and he sent me the following text "Attitude!!!!"

To which my response was " Forget it Dwight. I don't really want to see you tonight. Maybe we'll get together another time."

His response? "Whatever. Ur attitude is a big turn off already. Ur not easy to talk to at all."

HI-FUCKING-LARIOUS...there was a bit more back and forth about how I was frustrated because it was his plan that he fucked up and him telling me I was bitching and giving me excuses as to why he ate so late...blah blah blah. He tells me he still wants to see me though and proceeds to send....

"Still mad at me? *kissyface*"

I haven't responded yet, and honestly I deleted him out of my phone when he said I wasn't easy to talk to.

I stayed at the Stumble Inn for a while, not getting to play beer pong again, for the third week in a row. I saw a beautiful man at the end of the bar there but I had stopped drinking too early and my inhibitions were at an all time high. I finally dragged myself out of there at 10pm into the rain and to the train.

LET THE MTA SAGA BEGIN:

I take the 6 to 59th/Lex to get the Q. I wait, let the R train pass because that's not the train I need.

Then the announcer comes over the speaker. "Due to signal malfunction the Q train is not running *long pause* between Ditmars and 57th Street. As an alternative take the N."

Ok, dick, you couldn't have said that before I let the R pass? FINE. I get on the next R, thankfully not too far behind.

I get off at 57th thinking, "Oh, this is where the Q is supposed to be starting now - there's the Q pulling into the station on the opposite platform now."

I walk to the Queens bound side and wait for everyone to get off the train and search for the conductor so I can ask if this train is in fact, going back to Brooklyn.

Wait...wait...wait.

Two Asian guys are stuck on the train because they said the message that it was the last stop so late (surprise, surprise). I walk to the middle of the train to locate the conductor because he/she hasn't gotten to the front of the train yet and I see one MTA employee who has the door keys walking down the platform. "Yay!" I think to myself. "Surely she will be able to answer my question."

THE BITCH COMPLETELY IGNORED ME. When I say ignored, I mean...she didn't even ACKNOWLEDGE my obvious presence when I politely said "Excuse me miss, could you tell me if this train is going to Brooklyn."

I gritted my teeth and walked back towards the front of the train because I saw the actual conductor finally walking through the cars. I caught up with him at the front door.

"Sir, can you tell me if this is going back to Brooklyn?"

"Yes, it's going back to Brooklyn but service won't pick up passengers until 34th Street. You'll have to get a local train on the opposite platform. Sorry." and he closed the door.

So I go back over to the other platform, pissed off because I've let two N's and an R pass at this point on the downtown platform. And guess what, now no trains are coming. Not only does it take another 15 minutes for an N to come...but the Q train DEPARTS. That's correct, not only does it depart, but it opens its doors for passengers first. I can't make it to the other platform in time, so I'm fuming, knowing I'm going to miss that Q at 34th.

I finally get to 34th and the next Q finally come and lo and behold, the train allowed passengers to get on at 57th and 42nd.

A trip that should've taken me less than an hour, took almost 2. Thank you once again MTA.

I was kindly greeted by torrential downpour upon exiting the train.

Steel Pans came over just after midnight though and that was fun as usual. I actually really enjoy his company and other things he has to offer. It's just getting better and better.

I'd rather be at the gym...

That's right, I said it. I would RATHER be at the gym, than sitting at work doing absolutely nothing.

I have come up against a wall, much like the one I must've spent 20 minutes staring at today. I am so bored, I literally felt like I was going to cry. I finally understand the phrase "bored to tears".

It's incredible that I can find absolutely nothing to fill up my time. I have no desire to shop. I cannot for the life of me figure out how to plan vacations (this is a whole 'nother story). It's raining so I don't want to go for an unnecessary walk outside. My mood has come to reflect the weather, just goddamn dreary with a chance of torrential downpour and no sign of respite in the future (although 5pm is finally getting MIGHTY close).

The highlight of my day today as probably been peeing. You read right, PEEING. I've been drinking a shit ton more water lately because I'm trying not to snack and so I go to the restroom about 5-6 times a day. This little break to the facilities has become the highlight of my day. Literally STANDING and WALKING down the hallway has made me feel better. What in the hell is wrong with this picture? Since when did urination become so fascinating. All I know is, I'm over it.

I just spend a few minutes staring at my computer desktop picture, dreaming of Jamaica and then getting panties-in-a-knot frustrated because I cannot possibly go to there in July and I don't even know if August is on the table anymore.

What do you do when you are so incredibly bored that gauging out your eyes seems like a viable option for some afternoon entertainment? I'm going to talk to my boss tomorrow and tell her this. It's gotta stop. I HAVE TO do something, for my own sanity.

Please let the rain stop so that I can actually enjoy the hours I spend out of the office as much as I've begun to abhor the ones I spend in here.

Sparkles and rain

Friday was incredibly relaxing. I decided to bypass the gym and found myself at the movies (once by myself and then Dominicaitian met me for the second). I saw Jumping the Broom and we saw Thor 3D.

I did find out that Dominicaitian cannot cuddle in the movies. He put his arm so far down on my back that I was incredibly uncomfortable, and probably offended him when I not so politely asked him to move his arm and I weaseled my way out of his arms. Also, he was trying to be a gentleman and walked me to the train station where two things happened. I saw someone I had known back in high school and had a huge crush on and he was a great kisser, but of course he didn't recognize me because I'm almost 200 lbs lighter than I was and carry myself completely different. Anyway, I felt awkward saying hello to him and going through this whole "do you remember me..blah blah blah" thing which Dominicaitian was right there and let me tell you, this other man is beautiful. He's a personal trainer and his body is absurd. I want to know which gym he works at so I can stalk talk to him actually. So I didn't get to say hello to him, but he did accept my friend request on facebook although he didn't respond to my damn message and that's really frustrating.

The second thing I discovered while in the train station was that Dominicaitian is not a good kisser. Kissing him is pretty much like kissing two rolls of mints and not in a deliciously refreshing way, but in the "WHY ARE HIS LIPS SO HARD?" way. I don't know if I can stomach this again, but we're going to the movies and dinner again tonight...because I like movies and he really likes me. Call me an asshole because it seems like I'm using him, but he's a really nice guy and we can be good friends!

I was home by midnight which was glorious because I was so incredibly wiped out from my week and Saturday I sort of had plans with Mackenzie, this guy who basically yelled at me and harassed me all week for being inconsiderate because I didn't respond immediately to his text messages for various reasons, none of them bad. I didn't hear from him until mid afternoon when he invited me to go out to a lounge he was promoting.

Now I wouldn't say this was the best idea for a first date ever, but I had agreed to see him and so I wasn't going to prove him right and be unreliable, was I? Rain and all, I trekked my way to the city with my bottle of vodka peach iced tea with lemonade and not having eaten any carbs to soak it up at all that day. I tried to get my friend Chris to come with me, but rain does not agree with her, so oh well - I was riding dolo.

I tried not to overdo it on the alcohol content of my mixed drink, which proved to be a mistake because I didn't really get too buzzed. I also made a terrible decision and feeling a little nauseous getting off of the train, I decided inhaling a dirty water dog was a GREAT idea, so I did. This made me feel crappier, but like a trooper I downed the rest of the alcohol I had while I waited for Mack to get there. Yes, I was there before him - which I don't really like, but what are you going to do. The MTA fucks more with people from Queens than from Brooklyn so I can't complain all that much.

He was shorter than I thought he would be, but I was wearing slight heels. However, otherwise his looks were acceptable and I was ready to get my dance on. Well...almost. As soon as we got in, I made a bee line for the bathroom and proceeded to relieve my stomach of all of its hotdoggy/vodka contents. Sadly, this means that I was not tipsy in the slightest, and I take a little while to warm up in new situations. We sat for a few minutes chatting while more people got to the venue. He made a comment about waiting for the end of the night to get money for promoting. I took that as a "Sorry I will not be buying you any drinks" kind of inference, and I made my way to the bar taking advantage of the 2-for-1 drink special and downed the two vodka cranberries as quickly as I could. I began to loosen up.

A little bit of dancing later and meeting some of his friends I was feeling more at ease. Some girl was ALL over him, and I just let that be because honestly what claim did I have? I did feel his chest a lot though in that first hour. Beautiful body, seriously. DROOL. While dirtyhaired girl (a name which I coined later after he pulled me aside to tell me how bad her hair smelled) danced with him, I made my way back to the bar and got myself a Long Island with no ice. Downed that relatively quickly and was super loose now.

Commence dancing. Mack was occupied and I love soca/reggae so dubbing here we go! I started dancing with this guy and the song ended moments later. He offered to buy me a drink. WELL DUH! I'll take a drink. So we got that, and then made our way back to where we were. Come to find out, that's Mack's friend. Bueno Mack, well your friend is buying the drinks. I think I'll hover around him a bit more. Three drinks later and I'm dancing all over the place, mostly with this girl Nyje who is pretty fucking awesome and will be my new club buddy. Lots of lapdancing and sandwiches and the sparkles from my shirt sticking to everyone (we were all finding them days later).

We must've left when the club was closing because I didn't get home until 5:30. Mack had walked me to the train and after telling me earlier he was going to come home with me, he didn't. His friend tried to take me home earlier though after jamming his tongue in my mouth and propositioning me.

I got a sandwich that saved my life from the bodega on the way home and slept my Sunday away.

I haven't heard from Mack since I got home on Sunday morning after the club...I don't quite know what to make of that - but on to the next one I guess. I've spoken to Nyje and Jermaine (the friend) every day since then, so at least I got something out of that.

This weather has been making me angry and I bruised my hand at the gym yesterday, but otherwise all is well.

I want to go to Chicago in June, but no one wants to go to this comedy show with me so maybe I'll postpone.

I also hurt myself at the gym on Monday. Just a little bruise but it looks stupid and makes me look stupid.

Possible pink eye: Thank you poor decision making skills

I went out last night with a girl that I met at a Meetup. I haven't seen her in a while and she's pretty awesome. We went to Blockheads (aka Benny's Burritoes if you go to the one near Union Square). After happy hour drinking of delicious red nosed bulldogs (they were out of pink lemonade), we found ourselves wandering towards the train that could take us to Brooklyn Bridge Park. It had gotten a little chilly and we decided that an outdoor event is not what we wanted to attend so we ended up at "Honey" which is kind of a bar/loungey place. I loved it. I literally fell in love with this place at first sight and sound. The music they played is what I wanted to hear and they had a drink special which was lovely. I didn't partake in the drink special and actually ended up going straight for the Long Island. This Long Island got me really hot and so I decided I didn't want to wear my glasses anymore. So without washing my hands or anything I popped my contacts in, in the middle of the bar while Kris held my drink. This was an awful decision and now my left eye is incredibly red and irritated and I really hope it doesn't end up being something worse than just redness.

Dancing and a two great Long Islands later, Kris decides that she's ready to go. That's cool, we go outside where we are greeted by a guy who wants to talk to her. They chat a bit and I decide while she's flirting, I'm going back inside. I can hear my favorite Jamaican song through the door just calling my name (I actually missed the whole song because the DJ only played a little bit and I procrastinated too long). I wish I could've bumped heads with Monica again to this song, but alas, it was not meant to be.

Kris comes back inside and I go get us drinks. I have found out at this point the Kris' birthday is on Saturday and so we're all celebratory now because who doesn't love celebrating birthdays?! (I know some people don't, but those people can keep quiet right now.) We dance, I drop half of my third Long Island and it shatters on the floor. I think Kris judged me at this point, but I hope not.

We left not too long after, it was before midnight, but Kris decided to take a cab back to Brooklyn. Myself, being a hater of cabs unless they are incredibly necessary, walked my ass to the train. Somehow got on the right train, sent random drunken text messages, fell asleep and miraculously woke up at my stop, dragged myself home, amazingly remembered to put my leftovers from happy hour eating into the fridge, took out my contacts, took a shower and passed out.

Waking up this morning really blew and I came into work two hours late.

Awesome Thursday night. I need a goddamn nap.

Car crashes and train serenades: a typical Tuesday.

I went on a date yesterday.

This guy that I will call Dominicaitain has been trying to get me to go out with him for a little over a week now and I agreed to let him take me to see Fast Five and buy me dinner, because I wanted to see the movie and I love to eat.

After leaving work the Mexican and I went to the Vitamin Shoppe to purchase supplements and protein powder. It was a half an hour of pure laughter because I was being absolutely ridiculous and the young man working at the store was being lovely. I was trying to decide what protein mix to get, because I discovered after by first surgery that I was not a creamy shake fan and that I definitely could not drink one every day. I have also decided that I will be having a shake for breakfast every day and not snacking any more, so the purchase of a protein shake I will actually drink was really important. I decided that a banana shake would be most acceptable, everything else is too creamy and dessert like to me, and although bananas can whisper dessert, they SCREAM breakfast. So again, after a half an hour of laughing, being ridiculous and harassing the young man working at the store, we scooted off to the next destination. I decided that being a little late was perfectly acceptable and this was confirmed when I received a text from the Dominicaitian saying that the LIRR was a hot mess and that he was running late (thank you for once, MTA) and so I felt even more justified in taking my time...so I went shopping. I went shopping at the same store I went to on Friday for my purchasing adventure because I decided on Saturday I loved the shirt I was wearing and NEEDED it in another color. Boy, I was making a lot of decisions...rare! However, my decision making prowess was pretty much enhanced by the fact that we were going to literally walk past the store and I had time to spare so why not kill two birds with one figurative stone (credit card).

Please note that the V train is now the M and this picture 

doesn't convey how obnoxious this station really is

I made it down to Chelsea probably on the same train as Dominicaitian was on.


TANGENT: To get from the 6 train at 51st street to the E/M at 53rd street staying in the station is a disaster. There are so many escalators and bottlenecks that I wished I had just walked the extra few blocks from 59th and Lex straight to the E train so I could've avoided that debauchery, but what's new?

Anyway, I arrived and we had one of those awkward text "conversations" that went something like this

Me: I'm here

Him: Where r u at? Just got here

Me: Just got off the train, SW corner (we agreed to meet on 8th Ave and 23rd, and of course each cross-section has 4 corners. What are you wearing?

Him: Long sleeve and headphones...i see u.

Of course at this point now I'm swinging my head all over to place trying to catch sight of a person with long sleeves and headphones on (not that this couldn't be half of the goddamn people on the street). I look like a fool. I decide that I'm just going to plant my feet, look in some unknown direction and wait for him to approach me.

Waiting...waiting...waiting... (this took all of about 30 seconds) *RING RING*.

He calls me and says this "Why didn't you cross the street?"

Dominicaitian, were you not the one who said you saw me and not vice versa? You obviously watched me looking around awkwardly trying to locate you, and I was not standing facing your direction, so my mission was not a success...Therefore, why would you think that I would cross the street in a random direction? Was I supposed to guess which of the other 3 corners you were on? Silly Dominacaitian.

I saw him though, and moseyed over to where he was. We went to the movies and it was nice. Delicious popcorn left two not so delicious stains on my brand new shirt though. I was a little surprised that he didn't even try to hold my hand, or touch my leg or make any kind of physical contact. I slightly worried that he was not physically attracted to me, although, just for honesty's sake - I'm not all that attracted to him (but his height is great and his demeanor is sweet and he's easy to converse with. Sadly, he has messy mostly bottom that actually show when he talks - my bottom teeth aren't the best, but you hardly ever see them. Also, he's not quite as svelte as I generally like them, but maybe that's better. He has a very cuddly vibe, although at this point I really only want to friend cuddle). Anyway, I shifted a few times in my seat to try and prompt him to, I don't know, touch my arm? Take my hand? Who knows, but I wanted him to show that he was at least a little interested in me. What I got in response to my shifting however was an "Are you ok?"

I think I physically slumped at that point feeling kind of defeated. I guess my flirting capabilities in a dark movie theater are subpar at best, but I kind of like that he was into the movie and let me be into the movie.

Appropriately, considering the movie we saw, there was an accident outside. A taxi cab driver decided that taking a right from the inside lane with an 18 wheeler on its left making the same right turn would be a good idea. The taxi was SQUISHED between the 18 wheeler and a parked armored security truck. The windows were busted and the cabbie was still inside. I know he was embarrassed because EVERYONE and their mother in Chelsea were taking pictures and laughing at him. I did not laugh, but as you can see, I took a shitty picture (or Dominicaitian took it for me - so I blame the shittiness on him)


We went for pizza after that and I learned about his family and things like that. Sounds like he's got a decent ones, most with college degrees or at least going to school. His older brothers are married and have children WITHIN wedlock. Maybe there's hope yet...except he does this nervous breathy chuckle thing quite often that got on my nerves more than once but I smiled and went with it because I was trying not to be all nitpicky with things I didn't like (which is generally what I do with everything).

I actually got home quite fast, but I was cursed yet again, by the train gods. I swear they always have to throw a crazy/drunk/homeless/smelly/loud person onto the train with me, or at least a combination of at least two of those attributes. This one was particularly loud and drunk, and most likely very homeless and crazy. I luckily didn't have to smell him! He sat on the floor of the train, which makes perfect sense considering all of the amazing qualities he possesses. He sang, the ENTIRE ride home, from my stop until the one just before me. He didn't have a nice voice however. It sounded like a dying/crying cat with a bad itch in their throat that was strained from crazy loud rantings earlier in the evening..and he was off-key. Through all of this though, I was able to laugh because his song selection was impeccable. If the man was going to sing so horrifically, at least he was singing the Mickey Mouse Club song. Yes, I laughed hysterically as he spelt out "M-I-C K-E-Y, M-O-U-S-E." I also chuckled through his rendition of "Man in the Mirror" because I don't think he has looked in a mirror for a VERY long time, and he definitely was trying to start with someone else on the train as opposed to himself.


All in all, a pleasant Tuesday. Steel Pans (who I will talk about at some point in the future) didn't come over yet again. I'm about to knock him off of the BC list because he has just been unavailable lately!

Oh and I did have my protein shake this morning, and it was delicious enough that I think I can tolerate replacing one meal a day with it.

Cartouches and Firefly - How to remember the bad times and forget the good.

I realized a few minutes ago that when I talk about actual occurrences, it's probably more entertaining than talking about what I need to do in the future and blah blah blah. My reality is actually quite entertaining sometimes. Therefore, I will tell you about my weekend.

Earlier last week my best friend, B's sister (we'll just call her Sister) asked if she could borrow my car for her daughter's first basketball game on Saturday. This was perfectly great since I had made plans to meet this guy that I had spoken to online for a bit for dinner. He was cooking, and I never turn down a homecooked meal. He also lived a total of 5 minutes from Sister, so it worked out swimmingly. I had also agreed on Saturday to help my coworker and good friend the Mexican move from his apartment in Brooklyn to his new apartment in Astoria (which really makes me sad actually, but he knows this and it couldn't be avoided). On top of helping the Mexican move, I had agreed to go to birthday celebration with the Bodyguard in Manhattan and who also lives in the Bronx so that I could go back to Sister's on Saturday night and take my car home on Sunday.

Everything was planned tightly, just how I like it.

Friday night was a really interesting experience. I decided to go shopping after work because Saturday night there was a party at this club in the Bronx that I was supposed to go to with the Bodyguard and it was animal print themed and me, who typically hates prints, had nothing to wear. So I took a nice hour long trip to my favorite store, Arden B, to get some form of acceptable outfit along with a few other items here and there. I get home around 8 and try to pull myself together to go to the Bronx for dinner with a guy I'll call Spirituality Zealot (SZ). Now I didn't know this about him before I got there, we got along decently well, and as I said, I never turn down a homecooked meal. It took me a while to get my shit together honestly, as I was talking to B for a while because she was coming into her town for her niece's basketball game and I tend to dilly dally a lot.

At 9:30pm I left the house with my weekend bag packed, which included about 5 different outfits and of course, two bottles of liquor. So I get to SZ's apartment and outside there are little hoodlum kids and I'm not feeling the most comfortable in the world, and he finally comes out of his building and I get to go up a five floor walk up listening to this tweenager spit some rap bullshit about "fucking bitches" and "smacking up a ho" or something to that effect. I did a lot of eyerolling, but I looked great otherwise! We got upstairs and it was actually really cute. His apartment was tidy and he was still finishing cooking and in the living room was a small table with two candles on it and the lights were all low, or off because it was "hot from cooking", or he was just trying to set some kind of mood. I thought it was sweet and a bit romantic.

He wouldn't let me see what he was making and so I just wandered around the apartment and into his room where his room was covered with random pictures from magazines and weird other stuff. It was like being in a nerdy teenager's room with poor taste in art, but I humored him. I saw some Egyptian ruins and these two cartouche's and me trying to be classy, I asked him what the hieroglyphics in them said - and honestly I don't think he even knew what a cartouche was (to the left), even though he had one on his wall. He tried to play it off though and that was the beginning of a downslide - or at least the hint of it.

I tried to make conversation based on the random things on his walls and the empty fishtank in his room and over the sound of the air purifier that took "white noise" to a whole new really loud level. Soon enough we sat down at dinner, and he had picked up the type of wine I like, which I thought was sweet - even though I was a little disappointed he didn't know what Riesling is. We started to eat and the garlic bread was awesome, white the spaghetti was bland (DESPERATELY needed salt, and was a bit overcooked) and the chicken parm was...well just a thin cutlet with tomato sauce. It was the gesture that mattered though, so I applauded his efforts and got over the subpar food, taking in a glass of Riesling as if it would provide a little flavor to the meal.

I got all the flavor I needed/wanted though, in his conversation. He told me about his passion for studying and how he likes to study all the time about mythology and religions and old cultures. That's fine, not really my thing, but I did love learning about the Greek and Egyptian mythology, so I tried to relate. I asked him a few questions here and there, but I soon realized he was something like a zealot and he was trying to impress me with his knowledge of religion. Honestly, I thought this was ludicrous because I told him immediately that I did not believe in God, I was not religious by any means and that I was in fact agnostic. He tried to talk to me about the "Nostics". This was pretty much all he was talking about, how people loved talking to him because they felt like he was enlightening them and he had all of this knowledge and how he liked to analyze everything. He mentioned he didn't like watching movies for entertainment, he liked watching them to analyze them for religious nuances and a "message". (what the hell is that all about?)


Basically, this guy stood for everything I stand against. I am not spiritual. I am not a fanatic in any way. I do not study religion, and I am not spiritual (bears repeating). I take most things at face value and don't try to read too much into a "message". When he told me he wrote an 8 page paper analyzing some stupid movie and the hidden meanings, I shut down.

He kept trying. He kept patting himself on the back and saying he thought he was doing a great job. I forgot to tell you, he's black, as are most if not all of the men I talk to. He made it clear to me however, that I was the first white girl that he had "talked to" and while I was really trying at first - I later asked him why he was trying to impress me. He was trying to get me liquored up and wanted to use that as an excuse for me starting to get...a little mean, but I had one glass of wine and then was nursing a cup of WATER for an hour. He kept drinking though, and it didn't get better. I didn't have anything left to say to him. I couldn't fake it and make up some interests, I told him there was no chemistry and I started to feel stupid for lying to him saying that I was attracted to him earlier. I was just trying to be nice because he said he was attracted to me.

It was pretty much time for me to get the fuck out of there faster than a rat with its tail on fire. I walked myself out and to my car and tried to shake off the awful experience I had just had with someone I had NOTHING in common with.

I was sitting in my car at almost 12am trying to figure out what to do next. I had been talking to this other guy in the Bronx for a little while and we were always joking about playing strip spades (so I will call him Spades). I got a hold of him and decided while I have my car and I'm in the Bronx and not really busy, I'll go see him. So I did.

He's Jamaican, and I know some other people have this thing about sitting on the bed with outside clothes on, but only Jamaicans are the ones I know who actually enforce this. So I ended up in his sweatpants and hoodie, freezing my ass off in his room watching Martin and Family Guy. Sadly, he has that exact swag that I'm attracted to. That playful "I'm not playing with you - do this" kind of attitude and he basically took control. Even with my playful denying him, we ended up hooking up. Yup - typical me, which is actually awful and I need to get this under control. I'm trying to be more selective although that was the second new guy I had hooked up with that week. May has been a big bounce-back from April, but hopefully it won't continue on this way.

Anyway, I was laying in the bed afterward with his clothes still on and he says "One for the road?" At that exact moment, I feel unwelcome. What I just heard him say is "Let's do this again and then you can get out. You can't sleep here." Which is fine, because I wasn't planning on sleeping there, but woah - that didn't feel good. So it's like 3am at this point and he says "Try and get it up for me again?" At this point, I laugh hysterically because why would you ask for another round if you weren't ready. I wasn't rushing and now that you made me feel like I need to leave, I sure as hell am not going to do anything to get you going again. You messed up your timing there buddy.

I stand up saying "Well make a decision now because as soon as I put my pants on it's done" and he says "Then help me out." So I finish putting on my pants, take off his hoodie and put on my shoes.

He walks me to the car and I'm at Sister's house in a half hour. B and I can't figure out anything else to do and we end up passing out shortly thereafter.

Saturday, Sister, B and Niece drop me at the train station with my weekend bag back in tow because I realize I didn't need to bring any of it with me and I make my way home. Amazingly enough - I can't remember anything ridiculous happening on the train, which is new.

I get home and the Mexican is there and we collect boxes from my basement and it turns out he got a small truck and his other friend is already driving so they don't need me, giving me ample nap time.

My DVR is full so I start watching some TV trying to clear some space and I eventually fall asleep, waking up late. I'm late to meet the Bodyguard, but then again she's always late herself so it's fine.

I decided on the train in order to pole dance (which is what we were going to do) I needed to be nice and tipsy. So I decided to bring a water bottle filled with Peach Tea Firefly vodka (which is DELICIOUS) which I purchased during my last trip to Philly where the booze are cheap and I stock up. I bought lemonade at the store which took me about 10 minutes to find, making me even later. I decided on the train to take a shot of vodka every time the train stopped and chase it with a sip of lemonade.

Union Square is 8 stops from my house. 28th and Lex is another two stops. I was a little buzzed at pole dancing, but it really hadn't hit me yet. I did a little bit of swinging on the pole but moreso took pics. Then we headed up to Johnny Utah's for some bullriding. At this point, the Firefly is lighting up my life and I'm starting to feel it. I smooth talked the bouncer, about what, I still don't remember. I convinced a guy who worked there to let me wear his Stetson when I rode the bull. (Of course I had just finished reading this romance novel about a British woman and a Texan with a Stetson, so I was really excited). Having had so much vodka though, my tastebuds could no longer sense "vodka" and I got an absolut on the rocks. I complained to the bartender because I wanted him to fill it up more and he kindly explained to me that that's what vodka on the rocks was and that the glass shouldn't be all the way filled up. I submitted. I hadn't eaten - this was a bad idea. I must eat before I drink, or at least while I'm drinking, but not when I'm already drunk.

We ordered wings. The wing that I ate ended up in the plastic bag with the souvenirs from pole dancing that Bodyguard and I got. I cleaned them of the wings and vodka later that night. I sat at the table by myself I think. I was blacked out. I don't remember anything after that except getting out of this girl's car at Sister's and BBMing B that I was on my way home. I know that I was coherent though.

I didn't get to ride the bull and I woke up the next morning at around 8am not knowing half of what happened.

There's another picture of me sleeping sitting up, but at least it's not in public.

B got to fill me in on some of the conversations I had that night. I'm funny when I drink, I just wish I could remember it.

Every time I go out with Bodyguard I go overboard. I'm not kidding. There's ONE occasion I can remember in all of the times we've hung out that I was not blackout drunk. The first time I met her was the first time I blacked out. Damn, I'm an embarrassment.

Needless to say I need to get my act together in more ways than one. I'm going to force myself to drink slowly from now on. There's no more of this chugging stuff. I need to learn to get gradually buzzed/drunk.