Recapitulation of recent revelry

Seeing as how I'm going out of town for the next week, I figured I would actually post so as to avoid the "bad blogger" syndrome. I can't say that I have much to talk about, but I'm sure I can come up with something.

Holy crap, I thought I had posted about my weekend. Guess not, maybe I do indeed have something to talk about.

Friday.

I went to see my friend and her new baby. I didn't want to hold the baby. It was two days old, and I don't know if I've told you before, but I don't really enjoy holding children who cannot hold up their own head. I don't know why, but it's true. I had also been dealing with raw shrimp about 30 minutes before I went to go over to the house, and I don't care how much hand washing you do...raw shrimp hands are not something you should touch a newborn with. I was only there for about an hour before my friend got delirious after not having slept for 5 days, and I went home.

When I was there, I saw another of my old bowling teammates. Yeah, that's right, I used to bowl competitively. From ages 7-17, I was a competitive bowler. Eat that! Actually, when I was a Junior in high school, I played on a team with three other girls, all of which now have children and are/were married. I was the second bowler, and the cheerleader. Our team (the only all girl team) won the league that year. We kicked ass. I think my average was 187 that year. I could be found standing on the chairs at the bowling alley cheering for my teammates and trying to keep our third bowler (the new mom) from beating herself up too much when she didn't do well, and our anchor bowler (the divorcee - who was at new mom's house) from zoning out to the point where she would ignore what we were doing at the alley in order to pay attention to her flavor of the week.She's not the same person though - and she has an 8 month old.

Saturday:

Anyway, we made plans to go out the next night because her friend from Washington State was in town for the week and wanted to really experience going out in NY, and Divorcee JUST moved back to NYC a few weeks ago.

Around 10:30 I started to get ready. By get ready, I mean, I started drinking as I danced around and put my make up on. I spoke to B and we were going to go to Slate because her friend's friend was having a party there and why not. I also had the option of going to Sutra for my other friend's belated birthday celebration.

Divorcee and Washington State missed the 11:30pm ferry from Staten Island, and so they decided to drive to my house and then take the train with me into the city. I sat in my kitchen, still drinking, listening to the reggae channel, dancing, singing and waiting. We got ourselves together and took off to meet up with B and her friends.

As we crossed the bridge, B said that the cover for Slate was ridiculous, and they were only doing bottle service. Sutra had a $5...the decision had been made.

Sutra was PACKED. I have some pictures, but I haven't uploaded them yet, so you'll have to wait. I didn't blackout though. That's the really important part. Divorcee left super early because she just can't hang like she used to. WashState stayed with me and we shut down the club. She managed to get us a ride home, and it was amazing. As we were driving through Grand Army Plaza, we talked about standing up through the sunroof. She did it. I was in the back and pulled myself out of the window and sat on the edge - whilst the car was moving - and got AMAZING pictures of her. Very much like something you would see in a movie. It was a blast. Only downside was that there was a car full of guys that were driving next to us, and told WashState to show her boobs, which she wouldn't and when I said that, one of them yelled that I was too fat to be sitting on the window. Obviously not, homie. So biiiiite me!

Anyway, we got home. I left them sitting in the car and passed out. Apparently I made a long phone call to a 20 year old boy talking about dirty things in my sleep. So, maybe I didn't NOT blackout - but that's day 2 of keeping my blackouts to my house, which is a hell of an accomplishment.


Sunday:
I did NOTHING. When I say nothing, I mean nothing. B came over on Sunday night to commence packing. We did that for a few hours, and finally went to bed because packing is exhausting.

Monday:
I went to work and the temp had started.

I can't say I like this woman. She is of the "older" variety, and not pleasant to look at/smell...Also, I'm incredibly bitter about what they're doing to my coworker and I just don't want this new lady here, which is why I'm really happy to be getting out of the office for the next 4 business days.

I spent a lot of time at work reading a book on my Kindle - thanks to Safari Cloud Reader. Winner!

I took care of some personal hygiene things after work in preparation for my trip. It cost me a fortune and wasn't really worth the inflated price, but it WAS convenient. When I got home, B was already at my house. We finished packing, went to get dinner and then she went to her friend's house. The whole time we were discussing this trip and the potential for a million types of disasters. We made a pact though, that if shit hits the fan, we are NOT involved...and let me tell you, this fan may be worse than the one that almost took off my finger in October.

Tuesday
I wanted to kill this man on the train because I've just about had it up to HERE with people who take one step onto a train and don't move in any further when there are clearly people trying to get on behind you. Why am I maneuvering around your selfish ass. Next time, I'm just shoving bitches.

There are a few things I have learned in the past few years since my surgery. By "things" i mean, "eating habits I should really cut out". I did not abide by these findings today.

1. Dairy vs. KG. I can do cheeses, but milk - never a good idea. Ice cream, especially when I've eaten before I have it - BIG mistake.

2. Fried foods = bad - don't handle those well thanks to my gallbladder-less-ness.

3. Drinking whilst eating - especially carbonated beverages (that I don't often drink anyway), big nono.

All three of these things will result in major discomfort and most likely, regurgitation.

Guess what I had for lunch? Fried soft shell crab, sushi, and green tea ice cream.

I guarantee is does not taste as delicious coming up as it does going down. My stomach is still being grumpy. In fact it is being very NOISY in protestation of my earlier behavior.

I hope that it gets it together, because I will be drinking today, and every day for the next 7 days.

Dear liver, 

Sorry in advance for partying. Happy Easter!


Love, 
KG

In which, like many, I am Irish for a day

...and kind of rude

So as you may know, I've really been trying to be more social lately. The weather has improved, and that makes it a lot easier, but essentially...I'm putting in effort!

On Friday, after work, I decided to go out to impromptu drinks with someone I haven't seen in over a year. We've only ever hung out once, but we chit chat on facebook and occasionally via text, and we both needed a drink that day.

Let me first tell you why I needed a drink.

Thursday was a BRUTAL day at work. I was told by my boss I should take Friday off to recuperate. I had every intention of doing this, sitting at home, watching tv...you know, sulking. However, I went to send this one lowly email out to my Fellows, which I do every Friday, and lo and behold there is an email from one of the people I work with, basically saying I majorly fucked something up the day before.

I'm not one to let things like that go, and I ignored the text from my boss saying she was taking care of the issue.

I got to the office at 1pm and went through a traumatizing meeting at 3pm where I cried a little bit. It was kind of hard to deal with because on one hand my boss was saying how much she valued me and how great I was, and on the other hand, the person I messed the thing up for was telling me that I basically sucked. I got defensive. I just don't like doing a bad job. However, we're on the right track with the open communication and I'm improving in terms of these mini oversights that build up to be way bigger issues.

Needless to say (even if I've already said it), I needed a damn drink.

We decided to meet at the stumble, but thanks to it being happy hour on a Friday during March Madness, it was PACKED. So we went to this little quiet bar next door and drank beer and chatted. Then we went to the Stumble when happy hour was over. It was a lot of fun, definitely just nice and casual, good conversation, some shimmying here and there. It was a good time.

One of my favorite parts of the night was what I did when I was pretty tipsy. I wanted to play beer pong, so I went to see what the wait was like. There was a list on the wall and someone told me that most of those teams had already played, so I took it upon myself to ERASE THE ENTIRE BOARD. With my hand. And put only my name on top. Then I walked away and never came back.

I'm so classy.

Saturday, I had plans to go out with this girl whom I adore and will name Little D, because she's so little! Love her though.

Anyway, it being St. Patty's day in New York, I was considering doing the whole "day drink until you vomit green" thing, but instead I hung out at home.

We finally met up at 10pm. I was being really good and only brought a small mixed drink on the train, and a small bottle of ginger ale. I am really working on this black out situation! Little D was late, as usual, but whatever. We went over to Brother Jimmy's for wings and a Fish Bowl.

The fish bowl wasn't very strong, but it was perfect in a way, because it allowed us to gradually get tipsy. Then we went to meet up with one of her guys and his friends, but not before doing Irish Car Bombs at the bar and belting out Journey and dancing.

I told you we were classy.

At the first bar, we got a lot of vodka and a little bit of cranberry juice, because the bartender liked Little D.

Here are some of my favorite moments from that bar:

1. One of the friends we had met up with was wasted, and was kind of smelling D's neck...in front of his friend, who she was with. So we knew he had to go. Every time I saw him with a drink I would take it out of his hand and move it to the other side of the bar. I had never met this man before, and the look on his drunken face when I rook the beers was priceless.

2. We walked into the back room and there was a BIG girl on the pool table. I abruptly stopped, turned around, and exited the back room saying "It's time to go when there are fat people on the pool tables." I proceeded to explain how I used to be fat, and I wouldn't be caught dead on a pool table, because you never know how sturdy those things are.

I pretty much kept the drinks flowing until we were ready to go. I chatted with a lot of random people and had a lot of fun.

We went to Mercury Bar after that where we were a mess, but in a good way. Not sloppy, just not sober. 

-I convinced a girl that my family was from the same place as hers in Ireland.
-We somehow got beads, somehow. (By asking someone). Some guy asked me for one of my beads, and I responded with "What are you going to show me for them?" He lifted his shirt and showed his abs and chest, and I said "Sorry, not good enough, I really like these beads." And walked away.
-Danced with a lot of service men
-Kept losing D. I would go to look for her, and she would have just walked in the opposite direction looking for me.

D wanted fries from McDonald's and when we were on line this guy skipped her, and she called him out on it. He was a rude "model" and we told him that. Then I proceeded to tell him "You really shouldn't be eating greasy McDonald's your skin is not that great to begin with, and this won't help." Then we walked away. As we were leaving, I dropped D's french fries on the floor. All of them. I proceeded to tell them I was "Going to play my white card and get more."...I got a whole replacement order for free. The woman at the counter didn't even ask, she already had the fries ready because she saw me drop them.

Then I stole an orange from a street fruit man. Well...I was about to, because he was nowhere in sight. I ended up buying it and a nectarine.

Basically, it was a great night and I didn't black out at all!...That's a bit of lie though.

When I got home, I was texting Steel Pans and he was coming over. I unlocked the door, got myself into my pajamas, and the next thing I remember was waking up with no pants.

He did indeed come over though. Ah the things I do when I drink.

Yesterday, I went to a Trivia Meetup. Walked about 2-3 miles to get there. Drank a lot of beer. Had some of the answers. Had good conversations with professionals. It was a really good time. Had a hard time sleeping though, and so I came into work late.

Tomorrow I have a dessert making class, which means I can't go to dollar beer night, but I'm sure it will be delicious.

Sorry for partying? A return to having a social life.

No seriously. I had to apologize for accepting a free beer yesterday. In fact, my "date" left me because of it.

Let's rewind back to the beginning. On Sunday I started talking to this guy from OKC. It was awesome. Our texting was perfect. I had such a grade school kid crush. We made plans to meet up yesterday for drinks.

I worked until 7:30pm, even though my intention was to just watch tv on my work computer to kill time. Obviously, that was not one of the researchers I work with's plan.

I finally met up with the guy at 8pm by Grand Central. He was in this bar called Muldoons that had a shitty crowd, but they had Karaoke, which is totally his thing. As soon as he opened his mouth to speak, I was not impressed. His voice and mannerisms reminded me of 'Bino...who is gay. Something about him just didn't sit right at first, but I tried to make the best of the situation.

I bought myself my first drink, because he didn't really offer...which was interesting in and of itself. Maybe I just jumped the gun because I needed a drink. Blue moon with an Absolut Mandarin topper, please and thank you.

He sang. He was really into it. He sounded terrible, in my humble opinion. He thinks he sounds great. Bad sign number 2. Still trying to make this work because we had such great text chemistry (does that even exist?!). They were promoting Irish beers for St. Patty's day, so we had a flight of free beer (Harp, Smithwick's and Guinness). We turned the Guinness into a small Irish Car Bomb, which he did pay for. Redemption. Still at -1 though.

We went to this place called Turtle Bay afterwards and got another beer. Note, it was dollar beer night. We were hanging out downstairs when he decided that we should go upstairs. We went upstairs and shortly thereafter he went to use the restroom.

In that time, I was left standing there with my dollar beer, and a guy and his two friends were sitting at the bar with 20 beers in front of them. I had just finished my beer, and one of the guys, a big guy. 6'4" and hefty, offered me one of their millions of beers. Why would I decline? I was waiting for the other guy, I was out of beer, and it was a dollar. You can't expect anything in return for a dollar beer when you have 20 of them, right?

So I drank, we flirted a bit, and I kept checking for the guy I came with to come back. Then I get a text.

Apparently, the guy saw me "flirting" with big dude and decided it was time for him to go because I was ridiculous/rude for accepting the beer and blah blah blah. I sent a bunch of messages back, tried to call him, he didn't answer. He finally said he was outside. I went to go "talk" to him.

I told him I was looking for him, and he was being ridiculous. It became kind of an argument. I said something to the effect of "I'm not arguing about this. Not here. Not now." and I started to walk away. He said "I'm not going to chase after you." My response? "I wasn't asking you to."

And that was the end of that. I haven't spoken to him since. I went back in and continued to enjoy my evening. I was dancing and probably had at least 6 more beers because big dude decided to buy two more rounds of 20. I hadn't eaten, and for whatever reason I didn't eat the wings they offered me. I was really excited at the thought of going to the strip club which they had brought up. One of them, the one who kind of looked Asian, but turns out was hispanic (I'm thinking Filipino...is it wrong that I wanted to write "Flip". Whatever.) He wasn't going to come to the strip club, so I tried to convince him. I guess that kind of led to flirting.

I don't really know what happened, but big dude went to the bathroom and I was talking to Flip. He expressed his interest in me and when big dude came back we kind of were trying to sneak away. It was like a little game. I don't know how it all happened, but we snuck upstairs and were talking and then when we came back downstairs big dude was upset. Called me a bitch and a ho, because I "chose his friend" over him.

I really can't keep up with this whole story. Big dude was wasted. I was pretty done. Flip was laying it on thick, my ego grew to the size of the bar. It was so sweet. He kept talking about my boobs and ass though. I guess I looked hot. Cha ching!

We went downstairs and he bought me another beer. We were chatting and somehow I ended up going home with him. Back to Brooklyn. To Williamsburg. He bought me a sandwich that I didn't eat until this morning. We just made out a lot. Nothing more than that. It was late as shit. He spent HOURS trying to convince me to stay. He offered his bed, and he would sleep on the couch. He offered the keys to his apartment so I could lock up behind me if I left for work after him. Ridiculous.

I called a car service and we waited in the FREEZING COLD at 4:30am. I think he was upset-ish I didn't stay with him. When I got in the cab, he just kind of said a quick bye and took off. He was going to give me money for the cab, but he didn't. I wish he had. That shit cost me 28 bucks!

Also, the car service driver decided it would be a good time to hit on me. It was really funny actually. He was disappointed that the guy and I didn't hook up though, because "nobody won".

All in all, absurd night. I pissed off two guys. Went home with another. Managed to keep my pants on.

I went to work at 11am today. Big mess.

It's 70 degrees outside. Honey tonight. I might die. I hope my stomach gets its act together, because I need to it to steel up.

Beer might be the solution to my blacking out problem.

I'll add pictures later when my stupid phone connects to facebook.

Sometimes I think that Pandora feels guilty and repentant.

Every time I thumbs down a song, Pandora compensates by playing about 15 in a row that I've thumbs-ed up. I would pat Pandora on its little head and tell it that I'm not mad just stop playing shit you know I don't like, if it had a head. I like hearing new songs though, so just playing the ones with the thumbs up limits my music sometimes. I guess I just can't win.

That being said, I've been "winning" lately. My diet is going...well it's been ok. Last night was my division's holiday party so there was a bunch of free booze consumed and some buffet action, but I didn't eat beyond what I needed to make me full. Although the Mexican and I pretty much stalked the walking appetizers. One of the labs in the division totally camped out by the kitchen door to clear out the appetizer plates before they could make it out to the floor, but we were crafty and maneuvered out way in.

The best part about last night, however, was that everyone danced the night away. Some people got schwasted, and some people made fools of themselves, and everyone enjoyed themselves.

God I love my job environment sometimes.

When we were leaving the Mexican and I stopped at Mickey D's so he could get some nuggets. We got into some kind of fake screaming argument. It was pretty hilarious. We were both pretty drunk from downing a shit ton of vodka RIGHT before we left.

I sobered up enough to read on the train on the way home, and almost cried because Sarah's Key has been pushing me NEAR tears most times I read it. When I got home, I felt motivated. I worked out. That's right. I drunkenly did jumping jacks and other random crap from Jillian Michael's 30 day shred, all while attempting not to completely dehydrate or fall over.

I succeeded, but I guzzled an exorbitant amount of water and had to hold onto numerous pieces of furniture in my room whilst trying to stretch out my quads. Great success, and this guy who may be my future personal trainer was impressed by my dedication. (Little does he know, that was only day 3 of dedication, and the weekend is the real test).

Speaking of this guy. Let's give him a nickname. First, a backstory.

So when I was growing up, I spent a lot of time with my neighbor. Her nickname would be easy to give, if I ever talked about her anymore. It would be "the User", because that's what she was good at. I could probably also call her "Succubus" but she was able to sap the resources out of ANYTHING/ANYONE so that may not be as appropriate, because it was never sexual with her and I. It was, however, sexual with many a male "suitor". I guess she gave a great blowy and was otherwise phenomenal in the sack, so they say. Additionally, she was hilarious as shit, which is why I stuck around. Oh, and she was the social butterfly queen (for a while).

She at one point dated this guy that we can call ATL. ATL was best friends with the guy who this whole back story is about. After the User and ATL "broke up", and I got tired of being used, ATL and I would hang out. B and the other guy would come over and we would play drinking games and blah blah blah. This guy was kind of a lightweight, but when we would get tipsy we got sosososo flirty. And this was when I was super duper fat, so obviously there was chemistry beyond appearance.

I went away to college, ATL moved to...well ATL and I lost touch with the guy. I stayed in sporadic touch with ATL, so when he and I became friends on facebook, I asked about the guy. I friend-ed him and months later he actually responded to my inquiry into his well being.

A few weeks ago, he hit me up. We sent a few holiday messages, and decided it would be cool to meet up. So we are. We're meeting up tomorrow for dinner or drinks, or whatever the hell we're doing. I don't know. He's a personal trainer now. His body has always been ridiculous and he has great teeth and dimples. I haven't seen him in over 8 years though. He hasn't seen me since I lost the weight, only the pictures. It should be an interesting experience folks.

Maybe I'll name him after the weekend.

Jamaica debacle continued

I was out of it on Friday when I woke up. Max made breakfast and I was lazy as shit. Wayne left and I had to wait for him to come back because I had no idea how to get to my room.

I did the walk of shame in a pair of ripped silk harem pants and a sparkly gray top. I'm surprised I put on pants, because I don't think I put them on the night before to walk to Sugar's room, although I don't remember.

The night before - note sparkly top

Either way, I pretty much lazed around all day - I went out to the pool to meet up with the girls at some point and we went through the evening before. Sober me didn't choose sides. I kept saying over and over, I just don't understand how this thing with Khani can be so serious, and why didn't Paris come see Kim in the hospital or at least check on her.

In order for her to take her pain pills, Kim needed to eat though, so we decided to go get food. We were going to get burger king but it was packed. So we went to go get Pizza. Yeah, I live in the Pizza capital of the world, but that's what we decided to get in Jamaica. I don't know how, but we did. Anyway, we got the pizza and then went to go pick up some beer and more booze.

Kim decided she was feeling OK enough to at least go out one night I was there. We allowed her a few beers, and then we pre-gamed. I was carrying around a bottle of vodka and cranberry water for a while actually. The first place we went to was called Baywatch. They lost power after a few minutes of us being there and then we went to this place called John Crow's. Paris and Summer were there with Mona and Mina (all Chicagoans). I spoke to Paris briefly and then she was sitting with Kim basically yelling at her. I don't know anything they talked about (well I do now, because according to Paris, Kim kind of admitted she knew about Khani and that Paris had done the same thing with Keron back in April or whatever after knowing Kim and Keron were talking - I don't know if this is true, or care, but welcome to what Jamaican men are like...always creating problems). Khani kept going over to give things to Kim and I guess Kim was rubbing it in Paris' face? Not sure about that either because all I remember is going over, grabbing Khani and pulling him away from the table and telling him he needed to stop going over to the table, it was just adding fuel to the fire. See, I really was trying to help? I guess not enough though.

Then I blacked out. We went to a strip club - I only remember about 10 seconds of this though.

The next thing I remember is sex in the pool again, but going back to my room this time, because Ashley went back to Sugar's.

I woke up later that night to clean some of the apartment. I got into a bit of a tiff with Khani. I don't remember much, but I remember him grabbing my wrist for something...probably because I cut my hand on a broken glass and wouldn't show him that I was bleeding. I had a bruise on my wrist the next day. Asshole =(

I passed out after that, but we had to be up early-ish in the morning so we could go on this booze cruise.

I was a MESS. I was so tired and out of it and pretty much over the whole thing, but we got our acts together and went; Sugar, Max, Ashley and I. It was SWELTERING when we first go to the boat. We all literally wanted to peel off our skin. It was so gross. We waited about an hour and change for the rest of the boat to fill up. We just kind of hung around on the boat until it was time to get off and swim/snorkel in the sea. That was really pleasant, except I was tired and constantly fighting the tide. And everyone had to wear these big obnoxious floaties. Oh, and I was in starvation mode. I literally felt myself falling apart. I had to buy little boxes of pringles with a credit card, which was a hassle on its own!

Max relaxing

Sunbathing

We got back on the boat and it was a lot cooler - being wet and all. Then we arrived at Dunns River Falls, where I probably should've walked up the falls, but 1. I didn't have cash and I refused to deal with the credit card to buy shoes again, 2. I was so tired and out of it, I knew I'd fall and then I'd be the one in the hospital and 3. We could start drinking...so we did.

Bottom of Dunns River Falls

Ash and Sug were drinking rum punches (which I think are gross, because their rum is nasty there), and I was drinking red stripe. Max' friend Jade, challenged me to chugging contests. I never won, but I got really close. I beat another big white guy on the boat though. We were in the perfect spot on the boat because there was a window to the back of the bar that we could order through, and Jade kept the drinks flowing. I probably had 16 red stripes in an hour...no problem. Sug and Ash got pretty wasted. When I got back to the room, I was exhausted, and Ash was walking around being drunk and it was great.

Doing the cotten eye joe

Combining beers

She was dancing on the moving boat and didn't spill ONE drink

I could hardly eat the KFC that Khani and Ash went out and got for everyone, so I gave it to Jen (who was the one who got married on Wednesday). We got ready and didn't drink all that much because we had to be at Margaritaville by midnight. Wayne drank my to-go bottle.

Margaritaville was a blast. Jade met up with us and he was buying EVERYONE drinks. I was pretty boozed up, but not blacked out! By that point, it was just awkward between the two groups. They stood very close to us (and although Paris explains that's because that's where they ALWAYS stand) I just thought it was weird. I went over to talk to them though, but it was strange and after "how are you, are you having a good time" the conversation died. By this point, I found out they were mad at me, because they invited me to their room one of the nights before while I was blacked out and I never showed up, so they thought I had taken sides. I really tried not to, and I still hadn't up to that point. I had to talk Khani down from confronting Paris...good thing I did, no more violence was needed.

So much fun!

Either way, at the end of the night I went to go to the bathroom and Wayne caught up with me and asked me if I was going home with Jade. I told him I was and asked if he needed to get his bag from my room. He did, so I had Jade wait for me while I walked Wayne back to the room with Khani. Khani had gotten chicken for Kim and I took a piece and that started an argument so when we got to the room, he was upset and we continued to fight about something. I went to change into my pajamas while arguing and got my hand caught in the metal ceiling fan. Fucked up three of my fingers, but I guess it's nothing too serious, still hurts a bit though.

Anyway, I went home with Jade and we spent the night at his house. In the morning he took me back to the hotel and I was laying on the couch, waiting for my alarm to go off because I set it so that everyone could get up and get ready to leave...it never went off.

My phone was lost/stolen - whatever. I still think Wayne took it, but he says he didn't. Max caught up with him after we left and took him to the precinct and I guess he ran when he saw Max and said he would take him to the guy he sold the phone to, but his story changed. At this point, there's not much to say. I couldn't call JBike to come get me from the airport so I had to pay $40 to go home when I got back to the states. Also, I had to pay $500 for a new phone, which blows...really badly.

I need to get over it though, nothing can be done now. I'm not taking my blackberry to jamaica anymore. Paris warned me that it was going to get stolen and she was right - maybe it was Karma...like she thinks Kim's arm is.

Anyway, I was irritated but what could I do. We had to leave. We took the shuttle to the airport. The Canadian's flight was at 2:20, mine wasn't until 6. They wouldn't let me check in until 2. So basically I spent 6 hours in the airport with no phone just staring into space and FREEZING.

The flight was fine and it was nice to be home.

In the end, I made three good friends and lost two people.

The drama continued while I was home and when I went to Chicago, so stay tuned for my Chicago update.

I might go back and reformat these posts at some point. I have pictures, but I'm so blah about the whole thing nowadays that I feel no real motivation.

Just be happy you weren't involved (unless your Mo, in which case I'm sorry you got pulled into it)

October vacations and drama part 1.

 I thought I would be able to write all about my vacation today, but it stressed me out so badly earlier that I'm going to start, and if I can't finish until tomorrow/next week...it'll be ok.

I would give people "fake" names, but there are too many people involved that I would lose track and it's just not worth it.

Here's a preface to the preface: It has now been two weeks since I went to Jamaica, things have settled down a bit, but they got pretty bad. That being said, I now know all of the stories from everyone's perspective, so I'm a little less angry or on one side of the fence. I'm going to have to post this update in a bunch of different sections, because it's a mess. Chances are, I will throw in some commentary about what I now know/believe, versus what I believed at the time things happened...I hope this all makes sense.

Here's a little preface: Last year, at the end of July I went to the Caribbean Festival in Toronto called Caribana, where I met Kim and Ashley, who are from Canada. Paris, I know from Chicago through Mo and travels to Jamaica. I have talked to Kim occasionally throughout the year on BBM, and while we never really got close, I got a great vibe from her and we definitely wanted to hang out again. I had not spoken to Ashley in a year. When I was deciding to go to Jamaica, Paris was the one who finally convinced me to go.

I was hesitant because I would be going alone. She told me there was no way that she would be going, even though I begged her to come. I needed a vacation though, so I decided to meet up with Kim who would already be down in Jamaica. Paris talked it up for a million years it felt like. She told me all about the great times I would have, and where we went each night and all sorts of good stuff. Normally, I go to Montego Bay, but this time I would be making my first trip to Ocho Rios, a bit more country than Mo Bay, which is like a tourist town.

Ocho Rios is just about halfway between Mo Bay and the capital of Jamaica, Kingston. Kingston doesn't ever get a good reputation, but lo and behold, flying there is WAY cheaper. Thanks to tripadvisor, I also found a great bus that goes from New Kingston, to Ochie for really cheap. It would normally be like $150 USD to charter a taxi/shuttle from the Kingston airport to Ochie, but from New Kingston (about 20 minutes into town) it was $15 one way. I didn't want to risk missing my flight back, so I decided to fly out of Mo Bay with the Canadians on Sunday.

The Tuesday before I was set to leave, I get a message from Paris.

"Have you spoken to Kim?"

"No, I was going to message her tomorrow." I had spoken to her over the weekend and she just said to text when I was coming.

"She broke her arm in Jamaica."

"WHAT?!"

"Is she OK? Do you have anyone else's number down there? She was the only person whose number I had." She didn't help me.

Later that night I got a text from Ashley, Kim's sister, saying to text her when I got to Ochie. I asked how Kim was - she was still in the hospital. I was a bit freaked out, because I was going to be in Ochie before noon and I had to do all of this stuff that was brand new to me by myself.


I survived.

Other than wanting to kill this little girl who screamed the ENTIRE flight, it was fine. We got delayed an hour because Caribbean Airlines' main hub lost power and couldn't be contacted by air traffic control for clearance. I fell asleep 2 minutes after this announcement and didn't wake up again until our descent, where I got to hear the kid scream some more.

I was too tired/lazy to exchange my money for Jamaican at the airport, and I was also too lazy/tired to look for a city cab (red license plates), so I took JUTA (Jamaican United Transportation Association - I believe). It was a rip off. I only had American money, which they charge more in, and the driver had no more change. I ended up paying about $35 USD for a cab that should've been no more than $20, but I got to the bus station just fine, so that's ok.

I waited in the station talking to a Barbadian woman and watching a Jamaican kids game show.

The bus ride was great. I slept through it. The drive from Kingston to Ochie is through the hills, so it's very narrow and windy, and a bit scary. The bus had to honk around every turn to let the other drivers know he was coming.

I got to the station and texted Ashley. It was a five minute walk from the condo. Ashley and Khani (a 21 year old Jamaican guy - that turns out to be very important during this trip) come to retrieve me. I change clothes and we go to the hospital to see if Kim can get discharged.

Jamaican hospitals SUCK. It was really low amenities, third world type shit with ants in the bed, no TV, just weirdness. Not as clean as it should've been.

I got the whole story about her falling off of the back of a pick up truck and the other guy that got hurt (His name was Keron - or Karen, I still don't quite know the exact spelling, but it turns out that he plays a much bigger role in all of the drama than I thought. He was released from the hospital the day after the accident though, had some road rash on his face and chest, lost his nipple ring kind of thing but he looked ok when we saw him later on Thursday), and her horrific first night in the emergency room (10 hours on a board aka gurney, watching 6 people get stitched up from being stabbed, no AC), and how they let her go to her best friend's wedding for 6 hours with a nurse and gave her morphine shots in the ass while she was there. It was just awful. I felt so bad, but she seemed to be in OK spirits for just having had $8,000 USD emergency surgery that was almost refused to her because the doctor wouldn't do the surgery without money in hand, and so the insurance company had to call from Canada and give a credit card company. Bad, bad, bad. They also made her buy her own sling and medications before she could leave the hospital.

Sugar, Ashley, Jen and Kim with her broken arm

Anyway, we got her out at like 4pm when Sugar, the final Canadian (who I had heard about before but never met) and her boyfriend Max, came to pick us up. (Max was the driver of the pick up truck Kim fell off of - but it wasn't on purpose so it was overlooked.)

On the way back, Sugar told us that someone had seen Paris arrive. Now, Paris wasn't supposed to be there, but I was really excited she was. Little did I know the drama that was about to ensue.

I quickly learned that Khani was an instigator. He picked fights with Ashley whose nerves were completely frazzled from the whole situation. Basically, he acts like a little kid...but he cares, or at least acts like it. He's like a little brother, a really annoying little brother that creates a lot of problems. Still like the kid though.

Khani and Sugar

When we got back, we kind of hung out in the condo for a few hours, went to get some Jamaican food, ran all around Ochie doing god knows what, and then came back to get ready. Everyone was a bit upset that Paris never came over to check on Kim, nor did she call. Ok, maybe everyone was a little more than upset, and myself not knowing any of the situation at all, I was upset because Kim and Paris were supposed to be friends...I mean, Paris spent over a week talking Kim up and singing her praises, so why wouldn't she come to the hospital...don't worry, I'll get there.

I had brought a bottle of Absolut 100 with me. I wish I had brought two. Next time I will - I thought duty free might be open. Oh well. So we went out to this place called Amnesia that night, and boy is that an appropriate name because I don't remember much of it. What I do remember though, is Max buying a bottle of apple vodka (I chipped in) and me drinking a lot of it (actually I don't remember that, but I was told). Then Paris arrived.

She started trying to "talk" to me about the whole situation with Kim, but more so yell at me. I told her I didn't care about the history, or what was going on, I was just upset she let me flounder. What was explained to me though is that back in January, Paris met Khani and they hooked up. The next two times Paris went to Ochie this year, they hooked up. However, it was agreed by Khani, Mona (Paris' friend) and a bunch of other people that they were not together. When Kim had gotten to Jamaica, she met Khani. They hooked up. She didn't know that he had been with Paris. (I got to hear an entirely different backstory later - but that's for later)

Well, Paris felt some kind of way about this. She was FUMING. She started a fight with Ashley (according to Paris, Ashley is the one who approached her), who was just pissed/upset that Paris showed up and hadn't gone to see Kim in the hospital. She yelled at Sugar, who should have told Kim that Paris and Khani had hooked up, but just didn't get involved. She blamed Sugar for "everything" and she argued with Ashley for a while longer.

Looked like we had fun though?

Sug and Max "dancing"

I was blacked out at this point, more happened, but I wouldn't find out until the next day. Keep this in mind though, because this is all secondhand information. I am recounting the story that was told to me by the Canadians. Paris' story is quite different. In Paris' version, she went to Amnesia with the intention of talking to no one, but Ashley approached her. Once that started, hell broke loose. Apparently, I yelled at her multiple times in the Canadians' defense. I still don't know to this day if Kim knew about Khani and Paris being together, or if she didn't until it was already too late. Look, it doesn't really matter, because in my mind, guys shouldn't get in the way of friendships, especially Jamaican guys. The stance I took was that I didn't understand why this guy was so important. From Paris' perspective, it wasn't that he was important, it was that she feels like Kim pretty much betrayed her, and knew about her and Khani and didn't care or have enough respect for Paris not to sleep with him. She also felt that Kim was being spiteful over something that happened with Keron.

Reminder: I was completely blacked out at this point, so not only do I not know what Paris' story is until the next week, I don't remember anything that happened, nor do I remember defending the Canadians and picking sides.

I come out of my blackout having sex in the pool at the condo. It was my idea. I re-black out.

I remember Khani stealing my clothes, and me telling him that I was going to beat his ass if he didn't bring them back...so he did. I didn't realize he thought this was actually a real threat, which it might've been...

The next thing I remember is having sex on the couch in Sugar's condo.

Then I wake up the next morning.

Here's what happened when I was blacked out:

At Amnesia:

• I YELLED at Khani, telling him it was all his fault that everyone was fighting. I told him I would fuck him up if he wasn't a child. I smacked him, backhanded him and smacked him again in the face. Then I somehow got him kicked out of the club
• Summer, Paris' best friend from Chicago, got into an altercation with Max, Sugar's boyfriend. Max is known to have a temper. She really shouldn't have fucked with him , but she yanked his chain off his neck. He smashed her head against the table.(According to Paris and Summer, what happened was is that Max was instigating actually, kind of "harassing" Paris and then something happened and he charged at her. At this point, Summer got in the way, putting her arm up to protect Paris and that pushing Max away action, prompted him to hit her). All I know is that when we got home, Summer took everything too goddamn far and out of everyone, she's the only one I'm mad at. Oh and she thinks I need to go to AA, doesn't believe I was blacked out, thinks I watched Max hit her and did nothing about it, and that I'm condoning his behavior by still being friends with him...there's more, but I don't even want to waste my words on her.
• Summer pressed charges against Max and the police came to get him from Sugar's room (where I was asleep) in the middle of the night. The guy I had sex with, Wayne (not his real name), went with her to get him out. Apparently it took about 15 minutes and nothing further was done (don't worry, Summer decided to go back to the station once the Canadians and I left, in order to make a complaint against the police for not doing more - however, it turns out she did go to the hospital, so if I had known I would've gone to see her. I try not to be a hypocrite)

Thus concluding day 1 of my Jamaican adventure.

And then he wanted to be little spoon...

That's right, HE wanted to be LITTLE spoon.

Hell to the fucking no! I will not be made to seem gargantuan and the man in this situation. You want me to wrap my arms around YOUR back. Who the fuck do you think you are?

Phew. All of that being said, let me recap my evening for you.

After manicures with the Mexican, we went downtown to this shitty bar named "Nowhere". That's right. We went NOWHERE. The bartender was a sweetie though, and it was a gay bar, so who was I to complain really? I was just there to kill time with the Mexican before his other friends got there and I could make my way to Honey.

Writings on the wall of the restroom at Nowhere Bar.

We got pretty schnocked within the first 30 minutes. It was glorious. I was starving. I couldn't even finish my last drink. I missed the bus by 10 seconds and ended up walking from 1st to 8th Avenue. For those of you who don't know, avenues in NYC are long. There is a drastic different between "blocks" and "avenues". 10 blocks is not a lot. 10 avenues makes my shin splints ache just thinking about it.

I was moving quickly though, because I was drunk...and even if I wasn't ACTUALLY moving quickly, it felt that way. I wanted a taco. Badly.

The taco truck took 20 minutes. I almost shit a brick and punched a Mexican. Not THE Mexican, A Mexican.

I met up with Feathers and Heels at Honey. I have pictures. I also forgot my camera at home, so they mean nothing to you right now. This crazy guy who semi stalks all of us sometimes was going to by me a drink, but D was refusing to serve him because he's a little nutty. I eventually walked away. The drink was not worth it.

The rest of the night was pretty standard, no weird run ins with Abdul at the bathroom...although he propositioned me again. I insulted his stamina though. He might not be so happy about that. Oh and I saw the boy that I desperately have a crush on, who is 20 years old and I gave at least three drinks to. He is looking even better than usual these days. Goddamn cradle robbing. 

I pretty much RAN to the train station at a quarter to 12 because at 12am my train was going to start running in sections, and we all know how much that makes me hate my life.

Guess which classy lady made it to the last Q train going all the way to Coney Island? YUP! I made it, guys. It was glorious. I was on cloud nine. It was fluffy.

When I got to my block I met up with this guy who I've had terrible sex with before. Yes, terrible in that it was boring. I told him this. Like every man in history, he needed to protect his pride/ego/penis and wanted to prove to me that he could rock my world. So we've been talking again lately, because I've been drinking a lot, and I like my world to rock - I don't get motion sickness.

He wanted to cuddle last night though. That was fine with me. I would've liked him to stick it in, probably...but whatever cuddling is fine.

Here's what actually went down though...wait for it...wait for it...

NOTHING.

We talked about sports for a little while, whilst watching ESPN. This is typical. Then it came time to cuddle.

He didn't want to cuddle me, he wanted to be cuddled by me.

I was flabberghasted. I made sure I heard him right.

"You want me to be the big spoon?"

"Yes."

"So what you're saying is YOU want to be LITTLE spoon?"

"Yes."

"Funny."

He took off his shirt and pants and we went to bed.

I tried. I tried to cuddle him once, but my heart got all racey because it was such an awkward situation and I was dehydrated and any kind of movement was requiring a lot of energy. Ten seconds in, I bailed. I scooted away. Caught my breath and drank some water.

Thank god he's a silent sleeper, or I would've killed myself/him.

I don't know why he didn't leave. We didn't make eye contact in the morning. I don't know if he was kidding when he said "thanks for the cuddle, I needed that." I think he might just be crazy.

I can't handle it.

The nerve.

I WILL NEVER BE BIG SPOON. GET THAT STRAIGHT. (He might not be...that's the problem.)

Addendum - Never say never. Basically if we've been in a relationship for a while and you need a snuggle, I get it. It won't be for very long, but it could happen. However, if we are hardly even booty calls, do not under any circumstances expect anything but a fork...and I will not be the fork either.

Not so laborious labor day weekend

So here are the highlights of my weekend.


Feather and Heels didn't end up getting to my house until midnight on Friday. We began drinking shortly thereafter and made our way to this place called Crossroads in Park Slope (Super south slope). We didn't end up going in, however. This was because it was a $10 cover and looked pretty damn lame to be honest.

We did, get into two racial arguments though. The first happened when a guy mentioned something about me being white. Heels was not having this, and honestly, neither was I. I had been drinking and I was feeling quite argumentative. Heels had to hold me back before she went in on the dude. Then this girl fell. She fell face first off the curb into the street. Heels couldn't contain her laughter, and it broke the tension. I know that's mean, and I should be more sympathetic considering my falling history, but I was not the one laughing, and I was thankful that something stopped the arguing. The guy tried to apologize, and his friend tried to get Feather's number...because he liked Heels? Does that make sense? No. Stupid grown men with braids.

Anyway, we started walking up towards 5th Avenue to try and find a bar. There were two black men on motorcycles. We noted these. One day I will ride one, probably when I'm drunk and don't know any better (I know this is a recipe for disaster, but things with two wheels make me nervous). Anyway, before they took off, they switched bikes. Therefore, it only made sense for me the say

"Oh, so you guys are switch hitters. Cool."

They were not amused. One of the guys started yelling at me and cursing me out, telling me to watch my mouth and once again, mentioned something about my skintone. Heels tried to tell him that I was joking, which I agreed with, and we ended up walking away leaving them angry on their bikes. (I hope they didn't get into an accident - I know how anger makes people drive stupid.)

We went and got pizza and were talking about the whole situation and two guys outside of the pizza place basically "picked us up". We went to a lesbian bar. They bought us jager bombs. I fucking hate jager, but I took it anyway.

Then they bought us irish car bombs. These are NEVER a good idea. I not only took mine, but I took half of Feather's and half and Heels'. I then took myself to the restroom and tried to force myself to get rid of them. It didn't work so well. I shrugged it off, and went back to the bar.

One of the guys lived down the block. We went there. I laid down on...a bed frame because there was no mattress. They smoked. We went home.

These men were hoping for an orgy of sorts. Not going to happen.

The next day we lazed around all day. No one could make a decision. We started drinking at midnight. By 2am we had decided just to walk toward Flatbush for J'Ouvert. We headed towards this party VJ had told me about. Unfortunately, we decided to walk the whole way (about two miles), and the party was shut down just as we got there. VJ and his friend, who still kind of creeps me out, found us and I thought we were going to another party. Instead, we ended up at VJ's where they smoked. Heels got sick. Stupid Fanta leaf.

The creepy friend drove us home. He also tried to get into my pants.

Heels was sick the whole next day so we didn't join any of the labor day festivities. It wasn't a bad weekend. In fact, I enjoyed myself, but I think next year or whenever they come to brooklyn again, we'll definitely need a plan.

JBike came over that night and cuddled though. He brought me a shirt from J'Ouvert. It was sweet. He left in the morning and blew another damn tire on his bike. I felt awful because he was so far from home, but he got it fixed. I'm telling you, vehicles with two wheels are dangerous!

My teeth currently hurt from the dentist yesterday. Delta was trying really hard to come over yesterday. He said something along the lines of "I just want to be the Bob Marley to your Reggae." I don't know what that means, and he spelt a lot of shit wrong, but I'm now done with him again. He yet again said he was on his way over and didn't come. I told him I didn't really care if he came over or not, and that I really didn't have anything to say to him. He offered me a night full of oral sex. Sorry, Snookie is currently closed for business. I told him I wouldn't make him go home if we got into another fight, but he would have to sleep in the guest room. He said he was scared of my third floor.

I'm over it. I told him to lose my number. I really hope he does.

I ignored Dominicaitian again. I'm going to hell.

I might've "shit where I eat"

Or in my case, "pissed where I drink."

It's Monday, and I have yet to tell you about my Thursday. Let me just remind you that I was drinking on Tuesday, and I was wasted last Wednesday, so it was only a natural progression to get shithoused on Thursday in preparation for my Friday off. (I took a personal day to take care of my mom).

As you know, Thursday started miserably. I was incredibly hungover and couldn't eat for the first 8 or so hours of being awake.

Things did get a little better though when I had my year review at work and got a 7% raise because they love me here. If only they knew about this blogging situation I've got going on here, maybe they would think I'm a little less productive. However, my supervisor is not here this week and thus I can take my sweet ass time doing EVERYTHING. You can be jealous.

So by 3pm I had managed to force a large bowl of soup down my throat and half of a sandwich. My stomach preparation for the evening was in full swing.

The Mexican and I were scheduled for our bi-weekly manicure, but fortunately, how I was feeling there did not relate to how I would be feeling later. I didn't even get my free cosmo, guys. I got a cup of tea and prayed to the Dashing Diva gods that my stomach would be settled enough to commence drinking in an hour. B texted me while I was getting a manicure. She was shitfaced already. Three incoherent messages and an "I love you" and I didn't know what I would show up to when I got to Honey.

The Mexican and I parted ways and I moseyed over to Honey. It was about 7 when I got there. Chris and B were there. I had reserved us all a table because I'm besties with the Maitre'D. He finally remembered my name. I must've been slurring most times I spoke to him because he called me Kim, which if you throw an accent on a shortened version of my name, I can understand the mishearing.

When I arrived I got hugs galore and...well I started ordering drinks. I mean seriously, that's why I'm there. Bring on the booze! We got a little bit of food. Chris got Mozzarella sticks (I had one), and B got wings (I had one). B was still drinking but I think after about 4 more drinks she had drunk herself sober. I, however, was just getting started.

I was wearing a dress and sweating my ass off. I swear I was sitting like a classy lady with my legs slightly spread while sitting on the stool, HOPING a breeze would find it's way into my panties (the only thing I would allow in my panties that night, but I will get to that). So we're drinking and drinking. B tells me she's leaving at 10. I'm unhappy about this, but whatever. We go inside, give my bag to the manager (let's call her D for now, because it's so hard to keep these nicknames in order and I can't remember what I called her before.) She took my bag and put it in "coat check" because I guess some other girl was trying to check her shit and they wanted to charge her. They just gave me a number though, free of charge.

So here's where things start getting interesting. At 9pm we make our ways inside because we want to dance. We settle up the first check. I've seemingly had 10 cosmos by this point. I still have a long night ahead. Nyeg is on her way, so B will be relieved of her friending duties.

The multiple times I've gone to the restroom downstairs, the bathroom attendant has been flirting with me. They all do. He's shorter than me, and I think it's cute. (Keep this in mind).

Something else happens upstairs though. The owner of Honey, whom we met a few weeks ago, starts hitting on me. Mind you, I'm 5'9". He is...MAYBE 5'4"? Jesus, I don't even know. He's so little, and I say this about a million times, because I have no filter.

So the owner asks me if I want him to drive me home. Well of course I want a ride home! The train is shit at night, but I tell him I can take the train, but if he really wants to drive me home, sure! He tells me to let him know when I'm ready to go. I guess I gave him my number at that point because I ended up with a text saying "Hot Stuff". Smooth, I swear. Oh yeah, he's also probably in his mid to late 30s.

Speaking of which. I was talking to this group of guys that just apparently graduated from Apex (LMFAO...sorry). I was only talking to them because the tall one was cute and I wanted to introduce him to B. He ended up being a dick, but his friend, this Jamaican starts talking to me. Oh yeah, because I ask where the dick is from and he's laughing and says "Jamaica". OBVIOUSLY not (as I am well versed in Jamaican men and their language). Then I ask something else and his stupid fucking friend is trying to be funny too, so I turn to leave and their other friend who is ACTUALLY Jamaican, starts to talk to me. He says he wants to take me to Jamaica. Again, obviously I want to go to Jamaica because fuck, who doesn't? (Except most gay men, because they frown upon that there.)


We're chit chatting and I ask how old he is and he says something like 38. I ask him how old he thinks I am, and he says something like 32. I say "I'm offended" and walk off never to speak to him again. I am fickle when I'm drunk.

Nyeg shows up, and we're dancing and I go get drinks. Long islands and lemon drops (because that's the natural progression of things as well). B and Chris leave. Nyeg starts talking to this charming young man and I'm standing kind of near her and the side of the bar. There is a security guard there who is so big he scares me, but I start chatting him up about something. Turns out, he's the biggest sweetie and we exchange BBMs. Next to him, is the owner who wants to GTFO of there, but in the meantime, is smoking a hookah.

I don't smoke, guys. At all. I don't smoke anything. So this is what I tell the owner when he offers me hookah. His response "Really???? Why???" I read his expression. "You really want me to smoke the hookah?" He nods. And so I do. I smoke the fucking hookah like a pro. Somehow I figure out how to French inhale, and play it off like I'm the best at this ever, and so I teach him. That was where my personal level of morals was at that moment...no where to be found.

The owner buys us two shots and says that he wants to leave, are we ready? We're going down the block to a bar. Fine, no problem.

I start to make my rounds of saying goodbye. A hug here, a kiss on the cheek here, a "see you next week". I go down to see the bathroom attendant and he gives me a hug. But not like a normal hug. A, here let me grab your ass with both of my hands and squeeze while kissing your neck, hug. I'm laughing almost hysterically at this point.

The owner comes down the stairs just as we release our hug. I get my bag from D and we are out the door with a few more hugs and kisses.

We go down the block to this little bar because the owner likes to pay for his drinks sometimes. Whatever man, it's your money. So he buys Nyeg and I each a pineapple vodka. I end up drinking mine and most of hers. He has half of a beer. Nyeg and I dance to "Party in the USA" by Miley Cyrus, and the bouncer at the bar flashes a flashlight as us to highlight our smooth moves.

The owner is ready to go. I part ways with Nyeg because she's going somewhere else and says she'll be fine (turns out, I also left my camera with her). We go to the owner's car.

Now, I'm not an idiot. I know what he wants. He asked me earlier in the night if I had roommates and if I could have company. I said yes, and yes. I didn't mention that said roommates were my parents. What the fuck ever. So he's driving me to Brooklyn and not being the safest driver, which kind of freaks me out and gets me a little angry because he's the kind of dick driver I want to play bumper cars with in real life.

He also has his hand up my dress THE WHOLE RIDE. Yup, felt up in the car. We're close to my house and he starts to fucking complain about how far it is. "15 minutes is so far, blah blah blah blah" So now I'm getting annoyed, and little does he know, but I have no intention of doing anything with him. However, I give him a complementary feel. I massage him through his jeans. His size is not impressive and I am even LESS likely to do anything with him at this point.

I have him pull up to my corner, and he asks where to park. I tell him, he doesn't have to. He gets annoyed. I apologize, get out of the car and go to my house.

Mind you, I was texting with Steel Pans this whole time and had planned on him coming over. However, when I get in the house, it's a done deal. I pass out almost immediately upon undressing. I miss Steel Pans' and Nyeg's phone calls and the owner's text.

His text reads like this "I wish you just left me for a cab money. Wasted my time and your time" (I helped him grammatically a bit here, because the messages came in a little jumbled).

My response 7 hours later was "I'm sorry."

I might've just pissed where I drink. I just really hope that there are no issues on Thursday. He was not happy with me. I would've taken the cab money, GLADLY...but I didn't know that was an option.

Oh and here's a little snippet from Sunday night.

Went to B's family BBQ and really wanted to get some afterward. I seem to have a lot of potential hookups in the Bronx, so I hit up two of them. I decided on the really buff guy because I was in that kind of mood...if you know what I mean. It was about 11pm when I finally left B's after going back and forth with this kid for a half hour about when to come.

Turns out, he had been at the beach that day. What I didn't know though, is how fucking hammered he got there. We cut the foreplay relatively short, because who needed to waste time. I wish we had just stuck to that though, because the sex...terrible. He was positioned awfully and was being so lazy, so his massive pecs were pressing against my chest in a mostly painful way, but he's so heavy that I couldn't really readjust underneath him. Dead fucking weight. Also, since he's a bigger guy, I was expecting something a little more...aggressive.

He must believe slow and steady wins the race. 

FUCK THAT. I told him that he was going to need to get it together and do his job. He started making comments about having the spins and not feeling so well. 

I literally said "What the hell do you work out for if you can't do this? What is this muscle for?" I yelled at him, quietly, and then started to push him off of me. He stopped, said he couldn't do this and was going to be sick.

I told him to go throw up and drink some water. I put my pants and my shoes (that took forever to get off) back on and left.

He actually gave me a kiss on the cheek when I left.

Are you fucking serious? Most disappointing shit of my life. I swear I want to write some snarky shit on his facebook, but I don't think he'll get it.

Thus concluding my weekend.

You are currently up to date. I have a date with the Dominicatian tonight. I thought I was done with him, but he wants to take me to dinner and a movie, and who am I to complain. He's not bad company, he just wants something different from what I'm willing to give to him. I'm just going to be 'that bitch' for now.

Karma will bite me. Actually, I'm pretty sure that my sex Karma is back in balance after the shit I pulled on Thursday and what happened on Sunday.

Stumbling leads to bitter generosity

So do you guys remember when I talked about Mack here, here and here? I might've told you that although I was kind of interested in Mack, that I stepped aside when Chris expressed interest...well I did that again.

I might've just hand picked/delivered the man of my dreams, to VWR. FML?

We stumbled last night. I stumbled hard. Like, bad. Like, I haven't felt this shitty in the belly since three weeks ago. And I know you're probably thinking "Oh, if hangovers are typical occurrences, then this one shouldn't be so bad." Well, you would be HALF right. My head does not hurt, but I have felt like there was a miniature lawn gnome in my stomach, trying to punch its way out since I woke up (at 8am, by the way. Even though I was supposed to be at the gym by 7:30...no biggie.)

I actually was scheduled to have my annual work review today at 10am, and I had to call in sick (late) because I was behaving like a retarded child this morning and could NOT pull my act together.

Mind you, it's Thursday. I'm going to Honey tonight, and although right now, I can't even imagine what my body will do if I try to drink alcohol...I will find out.

Anyway, back to the recap of my life since I last posted.

On Tuesday, I decided that I wanted to be somewhat social and this Meetup called Random Events, was having a free stand up comedy show. I love stand up comedy, so naturally I decided this was a good time to meet new people and laugh my ass off.

The Mexican and I took the train down to the East Village and parted ways. I had about an hour and a half to kill so I got myself a nice Taro bubble tea and finished my book. (Matched by Ally Condie if you were wondering). I wasn't feeling so social any more though, and I was tempted just to go home and watch my overflowing DVR (which I will do tomorrow because I'm taking the day off to take care of my mama). However, it was about to rain and I was already there and had been in the West Village for almost 2 hours and so I decided to go in. Everyone was crazy nice, and I immediately got myself a hard cider (because it's awkward if you're not drinking at a bar when you first meet people). I was being a social butterfly, talk talk talking away about this that and the other thing. This girl tried to hijack my conversation with this Kazakhstan (I literally just said aloud "did I really just spell that right on the first try") guy. She had a very firm handshake and kind of scared me. I held my ground though, and told the story of my badassness (Polar Bear Plunge 2009). She was awed. Yeah, bitch, relax!

He was actually the MC

We saw 5 stand up comedians and they were awesome. There was this weird lady in the audience slightly behind me that I wanted to punch in the face once or thrice because she was talking loudly to her friend and one time she yelled out something like "You don't believe in Jesus" and everyone was really confused. The MC even said "Ok, so we're going to ignore that right there..." No one understood. Pretty sure she was a religious zealot, and they all deserve a swift punch in the nose. I kind of rushed out when it was over because it was late and I wanted to get home. I didn't even stay for the picture or to exchange info with any of the people I met. Oh well, there will be another time.

Side note: My headphone jack just got messed up in my computer and so I'm hearing this OBNOXIOUS noise while I'm trying to listen to music. It's making me cry inside.

Wednesday is where things for the week really start to get interesting.

When we got to the Stumble Inn, I decided that I was going to get buzzed at least, because I had so much fun the Friday night before. So I start drinking. I rapidly take down about two hard ciders. I decide not to eat the nachos the Mexican got. Probably not really the BEST choice, but it was made. So eventually the group grows to include VWR, and about 5 other people, including our friend Tiffany. We're hanging out at the bar and I'm drinking more than I should...then this guy walks in.

He's 6'7" (found out later) and has beautiful ebony skin. Tiffany tells me I will not go talk to him, and since he is standing alone and I'm buzzed, I do. I walk over to him, ask him if he's alone or waiting for someone (he is waiting for his friend). I invite him to join our group of people. We chat, and flirt. Lots of arm touching. He's an impressive Investment Banker with a slight British accent. His friend gets there who is just as gorgeous. I want to introduce the friend to VWR, so I call her over and introduce everyone. My neck is KILLING me from looking up at the Ebony Banker. He and VWR start talking about basketball and I start talking to his friend and find out he has a girlfriend (bummer!) but he wants to play beer pong (winner!) I tell him IMMEDIATELY, that we're all going to play. He's game. I go reserve "next" on both tables. These softball guys get mad at me when they figure this out, but whatever. VWR and Ebony Banker are still being chatty chatty. I'm in my own world and pretty buzzed. I'm making buddies with everyone, and I'm carrying my pitcher around.


Fast forward, we lose three games of beer pong. I drink most of the cups. I start drinking from cups that aren't really even mine to drink, but downing them like water. At around 1:30am, VWR and I decide to leave. I'm shithoused. I leave my gym bag at the bar so we have to come back as soon as we get to the train station. VWR asks my permission to talk to Ebony Banker (they exchanged numbers and wanted to know if that was ok with me). Obviously, I say ok because I'm too generous...ALWAYS.

I was bitter for at least two days about this, because everything about this guy was fucking awesome and I totally passed him off. Now I'm not as bitter because VWR and him REALLY hit it off and they are an INCREDIBLY cute couple and probably a better fit than he and I could be. She's so excited it's cute, and it sounds like he likes her too. So I'm going to let it go. I'm also going to stop giving people away!

I had A LOT of fun though. I'm awesome when I drink and every one agrees.

On my way home, I had to transfer to the Q at Union Square. It was running on the local track so for some stupid reason, at Dekalb Avenue, I got off the train because I momentarily convinced myself it was the N and not the Q. By the time my drunk ass realized my mistake, the train had closed its doors. I was stuck at Dekalb for another half hour. I cried because it was one of the dumbest things I have ever done and I just wanted to be home in my bed. It was AWFUL.

You'll have to tune in next time for my Thursday Honey story. I promise it's a good one with lots of being felt up, and very little moral code.

Sex, blood and shame...

So remember when I told you about Bar 13, well here's the story I mentioned.

Let's rewind to New Years 2010. My friend from Chicago, T (as Mo refers to her, and thus I will too), was visiting NYC. She wasn't here to visit me, per se, but being here when she's typically elsewhere, I was obviously going to make the effort to go see her.

It was a few days after the New Year, let's say the 3rd, when I got a text from T saying where she would be with her friend (who she was staying with). I thought, hey, good idea! Let's go.

Prepare yourself for a bit of a back story that might not be completely necessary, but I'm going to tell you anyway.

I called up B, who I wanted to meet T. She was on her way to go see this girl we can call Bambu. I've known Bambu since I was 13. We had never really been close, but after I moved back from Chicago we became friends - when other people were around. We actually all rekindled our friendship at our mutual friend's mother's funeral...great excuse to get shitfaced, right? So we did. Over the next few months, we went out some. We being me, B, Bambu and our other mutual friend 'Bino.

At that point in my life I was still mostly jobless (part timing as a medical assistant doesn't really pay the bills) and also, I wasn't big on spending money on alcohol (pre-gaming will always be my first love). Bambu is wealthy. She comes from a very wealthy family, and has no problem throwing money down (or so it seemed). I didn't really drink much at the bars, but whatever, I guess I was supposed to buy everyone drinks because they were offering to buy drinks? (A lesson I learned later). Anyway, one of those nights when we were drunk, Bambu called me out for not buying drinks. She actually made me feel bad, and like a user.

Having been used for lots of things my WHOLE LIFE, I took this to heart. I boohooed, right there in the bar. I told her I never wanted anyone to think of me like that, and then I sobbingly and begrudgingly, purchased a round. I thought we were past this. I thought we had discussed why it bothered me that she said what she said and I thought she knew I wasn't trying to use her for her family's money.

Welp, I was wrong. On January 3rd, B tells me she's headed to Bambu's apartment in midtown and that I should come. I message Bambu, see if this is OK and this is the jist of what she says..."If you're coming, bring whatever you want to drink. I don't have enough alcohol for everyone and I'm not paying for everyone to drink." By everyone, she means me, because it was only going to be me, B and her and she already told B that she didn't need to bring anything. Secondly, I was planning on bringing a bottle to share with everyone, because I have no problem with that. A bottle will cost me less than $40 and will get everyone shnocked, while a round of drinks at a club will cost more and do nothing for anyone.

I was offended to say the least. I responded with something like "I thought we went through this, I'm not trying to use you for your money or alcohol. I have my own, thank you very much. And you know what, I don't want to come to your apartment anyway." And I didn't. I couldn't forgive her for that bullshit. Something about how she acted time and time again offended me more than any other person has offended me in my life before. It got to my core, and it sat there.

I tried to make amends a few weeks later at this event that 'Bino had invited us all to, but she opened with "This problem we're having seems so petty and small compared to what they're going through in Haiti." ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS? HAITI? That's what we're talking about now? I'm trying to make peace with you for the sake of our mutual friends, and you say that whatever we're having a problem over is unimportant because of Haiti. Wow. I almost shit a brick right then and there. I walked away from her, told B I tried, and never talked to her again. (By the way, the story from that night is pretty EPIC too. I'm pretty sure I was so beyond wasted I did things that I don't want to talk about with a boy whose name I'm having trouble remembering, in a neighborhood I would prefer never to go to again.)


Side note: this kind of blows because it made things a little weird for B, and it does bother me a little every time she says she's hanging out with Bambu, or that she's going to be in her wedding party, or that I haven't really hung out with 'Bino at all because they're besties. I would like to get over this and be civil. I even started telling B to give her my best wishes...etc, but I just don't know.

Back to the main story. So Bambu says this shit to me, B says she can't handle the drama and is just going home (I actually think she went to Bambu's anyway, but whatever...) So I was pissed at B, because at this point she hadn't met T, but was refusing to come out and I was pissed at Bambu, because she says stupid shit. So what did I do?

I drank. I drank a lot. I drank a lot VERY quickly.

I was fucking HAMMERED on the train. I talked to a guy about his shoelaces. We exchanged numbers. I lost the number. I was sad.

I stumbled to Bar 13, said whatever name T told me to, or someone came and got me at the door. I don't know what the hell happened, but I was in. I saw T. I was super excited. We danced. Her friend bought us drinks. I was introduced to his friend Beatles. He was beautiful, and educated. We danced more. We drank more. I was happy.

We decided to leave. Well...someone did, I don't know if I was really in the decision making mindset.

T's friend had driven. Beatles and I were in the backseat, T's friend was driving, T was in the passenger seat.

I want to say the next bit is blurry, but it's not. Beatles and I had been eating each others' faces for the past three hours, obviously there was chemistry. So in the backseat of the car, with two other people there, my dress went up, his khaki dress pants went down, and some circus act maneuvering began to take place.

He was not a small boy and I was so dehydrated what I don't know how it all worked, but it did.

T's friend drove purposely like an asshole with stopping short, making the door handle in my back all the more uncomfortable. T is a dirty freak and she definitely watched at some point, or at least was an ass and made it very clear that they were aware of what was going on in the back seat.

I rode on his lap at one point because it made more sense. Don't worry folks, the top of my dress was still on.

Wait, let me mention to you that I had been at my friend's wedding earlier in the day so I was wearing a silver dress, fit for a wedding, and probably not car sex. (I'm so classy).

So we get to T's friend's house. We get into the apartment and T said "OH MY GOD, WHAT IS THAT ALL OVER YOUR DRESS? AND WHAT'S ON YOUR PANTS?!"

Way to make an already awkward situation, more awkward.

It was not my time of the month. I was shwasted, and I was unsure of what was going on, but lo and behold, Beatles and I are covered in blood. Not just any blood, my blood. But I later found out, it was not period blood. It was blood that comes about when large things try to enter not so moisturized orifices.

I was embarrassed, and T is an asshole and was making it worse than it needed to be. I quietly took Beatles' pants, determined to work magic, and work magic I did.

Somehow I scrubbed all of the blood out of his khaki suit and out of my silver dress. Everything was hung up to dry in the bathroom. I had sobered up for a cool 15 minutes.

This did not last.

I don't know what made us decide to continue doing what we were doing, but we had a lot more sex that night. A LOT. We moved the whole couch 8 feet across the living room, into the wall. Did it this way and that. I had stopped bleeding mind you. Well, for the time being. We woke up the next morning having rearranged the living room.

Everyone awkwardly watched sportscenter together before Beatles walked me to the car - it was his car.

My heart SANK when we go to the car. I had lost my glove the night before right next to the car, so at least I had that back (unlike my dignity), but the backseat of his car looked like a crime scene. There was literally blood everywhere.

His suit was still damp and he was freezing. He had to cover the backseat of his car with newspaper so he could take it to the shop to be cleaned and so people wouldn't think he had committed murder.

He drove me to the train station, the last stop on the 2 train. It was an almost silent ride. I offered him money for the cleaning. He didn't accept.

That was the last time I saw Beatles. I got to think about him on the shameful 2 hour, midday Sunday subway ride back to my house.

Sex, blood and shame...