Friday, December 21, 2012


Over the past few years I have often waxed and waned between posting all of the time to nothing for months. Sometimes this was because I was busy or because I didn't have a whole hell of a lot going on in my life to write about. Sometimes I forced myself to write things and they turned out shitty. And now that I've moved out of New York it just isn't the same anymore. I'm finding it even harder to write, even when things are going on. Maybe Kitty Kat Conundrums was a chapter in my life that has to come to an end. Maybe it's time to find another subject matter. One that doesn't revolve around me being a giant slutaluffagus.

So, while I'm sad to say goodbye to this chapter of KKC, I'm happy to introduce a new one:

Kitty Kat Conversations.

It's still KKC, it's just a new chapter. I'm trying out a new format this time. Instead of just stories and my own ramblings (although I'm sure there will be plenty of those too!) you'll find conversations, emails and texts between me and my equally strange and entertaining friends. And since something strange happens to me basically everyday it's bound to be more regular that my current writing schedule.

So check it out. You'll find many of the same characters as over here only this  time you get their words as well as mine.

 My twitter will remain under the name @KKatConundrums and you can still reach me via my current email address (

I love you all and hope you tune in for the next chapter.


Thursday, September 27, 2012


Lets forget about that last wibbly post for a minute and get back to some debaucherous details. And let's talk about how either I've gone into a warp of coincidences or, despite moving to a bigger city, my sex social circle has some how shrunk...

See... I was out with Charlotte tonight (note: it's a thursday) and her "work event" turned into a full on night out and somewhere between the dancing on tables and enjoying the free bottle service I looked up and in the haze of flashing neon lights and fog I see Nathaniel.

I shit you not.

How is it that I went through 5 YEARS of manhattan whoring and only ran into my men a handful of times but here, in a much bigger city, I run into him a week later?

Lemme paint you a little picture so you understand just how ridiculous this is; in New York I went to, maybe, 3 bars on the regular. I had a pretty steady routine. Which meant that my odds of running into people that I picked up in bars was extremely high. But I never really did. I mean if it wasn't for my work hookups and the fact that Shiv's coworker kept dragging EMT guy around (I never did remember his name) I wouldn't have ever seen any of them!

Either I was spoiled and led to believe in unrealistic odds or this is a fluke.

Because I wasn't in the same bar, on the same night as before. No. I was half an hour across town in a club, not a bar, on a thursday for a work event! So yeah, I was a little surprised when Mr. Fancypants Nathaniel showed up in his perfectly pressed white button down and Armani jeans.

Damn that boy can dress.

Anyways. I see him, he doesn't see me. Which is good because I haven't managed to find a hair straightener here in the UK yet and my make up was subpar at best. So I'm pleased. But I'm still raging on the dance floor so it's not long before he has seen me.

Bad hair and makeup and all.

But I'm looking pretty decent in my LBD and nude pumps so at least I have that going for me. And then suddenly I'm back in middle school at the awkward dance and I'm jamming with my girl Charlotte and he's sort of half leaning on the DJ booth, half shuffling from side to side.

On opposite sides of the dance floor.

Like children.

Oh wait. He is a child. Well there's his excuse. And I will use vodka as mine. Because other than some, what I am told is, superb lip biting and sexy eyes-from-across-the-room moves I made no effort to actually go say hi or try to, I dunno, dance together.

What a concept.

So I guess the moral of the story is that as far as sex and vodka go, we're all still in middle school.

Oh.. and London is way to fucking small.


Monday, September 24, 2012


After the whole MainSqueeze thing blew up in my face I vowed that I would never again let my heart live in my vagina.

I admit I've had some set backs in the whole heart in the crotch department. I've grown attached to some of my men over the years but nothing as delusional as that first real man-stake with MainSqueeze.

Now I'd like to say that it's been a wonderful world of detached sex but it's had its ups and downs. I mean on one hand you're already playing the chance game of one night stands but then you also have the bedroom politics. Some men don't like a woman who plays the emotionless sex game. God forbid you scream their names at night then leave without a kiss goodbye in the morning.

But if you ask for a number then you're needy.

Oh sweet jesus let me just bask in the hypocrisy that is men.

I'm getting off track. Where were we? Oh yes, detached sex and not letting my chatch rule my heart.

Sometimes it gets lonely. Sometimes I just want someone to talk to and tell them how my day went. Some days I wake up and wish that I had more to look forward to with my partner than a morning orgasm.

Other days I just want the orgasm.

See, I'm not completely heartless. I do want to find a boyfriend. Hell I'd even like to find a husband before I reach 30. But I'm also aware that pining over one night stands and secret bad boy flings doesn't get me anywhere closer to that pipe dream.

It is brutally obvious that when I'm only in town for 2 weeks, the guy I take home from the bar won't be my soulmate. Hell, even when I'm in town for 2 years that guy still probably isn't the one I want to spend rainy sunday mornings with.

So why, WHY DEAR GOD, am I starting to harbor feelings for a fling?

It's not even a plausible one. It's not like I'm in love with Mr. FancyPants Sebastian and his high school diploma, who at least lives in the same country as me. Nope. I've gone and developed wibbly girly feelings for a guy that lives a world away. I dunno if I should even say which of my escapades I'm referring to because it's just so implausible.

We have nothing in common, we barely ever talk and it's doubtful we'll ever be in the same location for very long.

Yet here I am, sitting up at night, thinking about him.

Someone shoot me, I think I have a crush.

It's just... despite not having anything in common with him and barely ever talking he is the guy that I want to spent rainy sunday mornings with. I think we'd be happy spending a night together where all of our clothes stay on. I believe he'd find my love of water gun fights endearing and sexy.

My day dreams often involve water gun fights.

None of this changes that it's ridiculous and stupid and could never work.

Also this doesn't take into account that, while I do think he enjoyed screwing me, I have no idea if he even sees me like that. I gotta figure out a way to shake this.

No, the answer is not to get over him by getting under someone else. I've already done that. It doesn't work. So if you have any useful advice for me, please send it my way. Because I feel like a right idiot.

Stoopid Vagina


Sunday, September 23, 2012


So now that I've finished my rant about women having the right do to whatever the fuck they want with their vaginas I decided to go out for a rage and.. well.. do whatever the fuck I wanted with my vagina.

So I met up with my london gal pal and partner in crime, Charlotte, and we headed out into the night equipped with our wedges, lipgloss and predrink buzz.

We ended up at this bar that mostly smelt like vomit with potent drinks (hence the vomit smell) and an... erratic DJ.
Seriously I have to assume this guy was trippin balls on ritalin laced with acid because his music selection was just.. impossible. We're talking savage garden followed by old school beastie boys then backstreet boys then just compilations of lasers and dying animals.

And the crowd was loving it! There was some serious raging going on on the dance floor.

At first I felt that I was a littttle out of my element. But then I said fuck it, theres booze, how out of my element could I be?

3 hours later we were smashed, had lost 5 of the 7 people we'd arrived with and were ready to crawl back home. Charlotte stopped to bum a ciggy off of some fine gentleman from Australia and that's when I met him.

His name is Nathaniel.



I must be in England because that's a fancy ass name. And he looked fancy to match it. Despite the messy sort of night we'd had and the messy sort of bar we were in, Nathaniel was still perfectly pressed in a crisp white shirt that was tucked into jeans that cost more than my monthly rent. And don't even get me started on his perfect fucking face.

Needless to say we did not go home and get into our jammies like good girls should, noooo, we stayed and had more drinks and then when we were really tired we went back to Charlottes house and had a few more drinks.

That's about the time that Nathaniel, in very polite and proper fashion, invited me home with him.

Well. It's gotta happen some time and if I have to pick someone to pop my British cherry with I'm gonna take a guy that looks like he belongs in a magazine.

So we head off and we're chatting and then it slips out. He's a bit younger than me. I think, not a big deal, if you remember I just had Giles, the 20 year old, back home. Young is clearly not a problem for me.

No biggie.

So we get home and have some really glorious sex. This was not a Giles re-do, this kid knew exactly what he was doing.


The sad thing about great sex is that it always has to come to an end.

Which it did. But in the morning I got to have round 2,3 and 4. So I guess I can't really complain ;)

And in the morning we're lying there in post-mind-blowing-sex glory and we start chatting some more and I'm being nosy and looking around his immaculate room in his immaculate apartment and I spy a yearbook.

I love yearbooks (I was editor in chief of mine) so I grab it to leaf through and look at what a fancy English boarding school looks like when I catch sight of something terrifying.



It's printed across the front of the yearbook in great big golden letters.

So, trying not to have a full freak out, I casually ask "is this yours?"

He tells me yes, and I say "but it says 2012" and he says "yeah. I graduated in June."

As in.. June 2012. As in this past June. As in the kid I just spent hours having sex with was graduating high school a year after I graduated from college.

This prompted a litttttle bit of a freak out which led to him telling me that it's fine... he's old for his year, he's been 19 for ages.

Somehow that just didn't make me feel better.

Anyways, on that horrifying note I found it was about that time to put my pants back on and crawl back to Charlottes so that I could try to sleep away some of the shame.

Naps had no effect unfortunately.

Once I made it home and had brushed out the sex-induced knots in my hair and told the story to a few friends it didn't seem so bad and now I'm basically over the shock and into the phase where I pat myself on the back for pulling a hot guy who's actually awesome in bed.

Good job Kitty. Good to know the move hasn't hurt your game. If anything, in fact, it seems to have upped your skillz. I'm slightly more confident now. Still need to get a job and figure out all this relocation stuff but hey, at least I've got one thing down pat.


Sunday, September 16, 2012


Todays post is going to be a little different than my usual foray into manventures. I was talking this morning to one of my guy friends about his various lady problems and I was giving him some advice about how to drop a summer fling and how to avoid being friend zoned. Somewhere in the mix I said how I would have made such a better man than a girl.

And I do believe that on some level. I always end up hanging out with the guys and I've had way more close guy friends in my life than girl friends. I've always been attracted to the more masculine things in life. I like video games and taking apart electronics and football etc, etc.

And I often lump sex into that.

That's a problem. It's a double standard. I'm basically saying that it's more acceptable for guys to be sexually experienced. And yeah, sometimes I make poor decisions and I don't always have the best judgement when it comes to partners but does that mean I should be looked at as a slut or be given a bad reputation? If I were a guy I might get a little judgement for the quality of ass that I pulled but it wouldn't be seen as slutty or wrong.

How can I agree with that? When did I start letting other people tell me how I should live my life? Do I think I've made mistakes? Yes. Have some of those been sexual? Yes. But in the grand scheme of things does it make me a worse person?


It doesn't. I enjoy sex and in my perfect world I would have a boyfriend who gave it to me regularly but just because I don't have the boyfriend doesn't mean I can't have the sex.

I have regrets but most of those revolve around the times that I've hurt someone. It's not like "oh no! I slept with someone else and am not immoral and slutty and stupid and I hate myself." No. It's usually "oh no... I didn't realize the effect that would have on that person I care about. I feel horrible that I hurt them."

So I'm taking back what I said to my friend this morning. I do still think my life would be easier if I were a man (I mean... no more cramps would be nice) but easier doesn't mean better. And being a girl I get to do things I wouldn't as a man... like give birth or wear high heels or change the double standard that comes with sexual experience.

I'm a girl. One who likes sex and has a lot of it. And I'm a goddamn fucking lady. And I refuse to let anyone, including myself, tell me otherwise.

I'm taking a stand and taking back my sexual identity. This is my body and these are my choices and I'm going to continue to make mistakes but I'm also going to continue enjoying my life and living by my terms.


Saturday, September 15, 2012


Hey kids,

Long time no see. My fault, I know. I've been a little MIA for the past, oh I dunno, 3 months. But I had this whole debacle happen with Skip and Eric and then some work drama and moving drama and moving away from New York drama and it just all got a little much.

But its still not fair. I promised debauchery! And things are a little different now so I don't know how much of that promise I'll be able to keep but by god I will try.

Let's catch up.

So Skip found out that I had hooked up with Eric and stopped talking to me.

I vowed never again to see Eric but then Skip still didn't talk to/ forgive me so when Eric invited me out for his birthday I went.

That "early night" turned into triple shots of jager and crawling back into Erics bed.

Eric, instead of being fun drunk, decided to get all deep and emotional and thats not really my thing so that was a buzzkill. He still tried to insist on birthday sex... and we sort of did but he was drunk and couldn't keep up so my birthday present to him was pretending it was good for me.

After that he started texting and calling me all the time. Started talking about how he knew all the guys I slept with. In a creepy he-remembers-better-than-I-do way. Told half the people I know that we were dating and the other half that we had soooo much sex.

This was a clingy situation and, frankly, not to my liking so I cut him from my roster.

Run into Skip a few days later and he's completely find with me. like no problem at all. Because he wasn't mad.. no of course not.. he was just busy with his new job. I mean... why would he be mad that I was hanging out with his best friend? Right?


That awkward answer led to him asking if I'd slept with Eric... it's a small town. People talk. I wasn't going to lie to him! So I told Skip the truth and then he was mad for real.

But whatever.

You can't sex breakup with me and then get mad when I sleep with your best friend! I mean I get that it was kind of slutty but it's not like I knew who he was when I met him. Gosh.

After that I took some detours along the slutty train to make out with some ex-coworkers and a boy in a hot tub.

Then I took a trip to uncharted territory.

I became a cougarette.

I was partying with some boys I know from high school and they had this hot guy I'd never seen before with them. And he gave me that look. The one that lets you know that they want to take you home. And they get what they want.

I wasn't used to being on the receiving end of such a look.

I swooned.

Now lemme paint you a little picture. This guy, looked like Josh Harnett, circa 2002, with blond hair and beautiful blue eyes.

Spitting image. 

Swoon with me this time kids.

So we start talking and its charged and sexual and he invites me to an afterparty where we make out until one of my old buddies from HS tells me exactly who I'm kissing.

This is Giles... Charlie's baby cousin. Who is 20. Who just turned 20. And is three years younger than me and related to my very serious ex.

I tell Giles this isnt a good idea but hey, he's young, they're second cousins and he's very persuasive.

So we go back to his apartment and I learn that some kids just don't know how to use what god gave them.

So disappointing.

But at least I got to look at that beautiful face while I was disappointed.

The next morning Giles tried to get my number so we could hang out and I laughed a little and  then told him I was leaving in two days. He was sad, but that's to be expected. Oh well.

Two days later Skip calls and wants to get together on my last night at home. I think we're gonna make up and... make up... but after a drink that I stretched a painful 2 hours and a rousing conversation about my big move he kissed me on the cheek and wished me well.

What the fuck?

You don't just call up a sex buddy that you aren't speaking to for drinks and then not sleep with them. It's just mean.

So being a child I instantly texted one of my guys friends, Austin, about my disappointing turn of events and he invited me over to remedy the situation.

Now... this was a little out of the blue. I mean I've known Austin since I was 14 and other than this one time when I was 15 where I made out with him for like 20 seconds I haven't had any interaction like that with him before. We're buddies. He helps me with my inability to fill motor vehicles with fuel and I provide witty commentary and banter.

But I was bored, super stressed about the move and 5 minutes from him so I threw on my sweat pants and went to Austins.

He greeted me in basketball shorts and a wifebeater, looking pretty fine, and then we just chilled out for 2 hours. We were sort of watching Transformers but that just turned into my ragging on Megan Fox and her bitchy cheekbones so after a while he turned it off and asked what I wanted to do.

Well... you know me..

Anyways I won't give you the details because this is just an overview, a quick catch up and it's getting pretty long, but I will say that it was the best fucking stress relief I've ever had. And Austin is fucking mad cool so I'm really hoping that we continue to... help each other out... whenever I'm home.

He's one of like... 3 people I talk to regularly from home.


That was summer back home. I have one story from my brief visit back to New York and a load of stuff to tell you about my new home but for now I'll just bid you adieu and say I've missed you and I hope that you're still checking in every now and then, even if I did desert you for a few months.

Love love love.


Sunday, July 29, 2012


After the injuries of last week I decided I needed to a) not hook up with vag breakers anymore b) probably find a new playmate and c) rave the pain away.

Success on all counts.

A) I saw Grant at happy hour and, despite the fact that I basically walked into a trashcan, I managed to play it cool and just give him a friendly wave. 

B) While out on Thursday night I found myself in VIP with bottle service with some old coworkers and  I met two new hot boy friends. One, who right now doesn't really matter, and Eric. A blue eyed bad boy with a wicked smile and sense of humor. He worked pretty hard to keep my attention and, not only did he ask for my number, but he also used it. He used it to send me sweet nothings and make plans for the next night.

C) About that next night. There was a rave at one of the bars so after I went to happy hour, dinner and drinks with Marie, I met up with Eric and my girls and went down, dressed in a blindingly neon green shirt and sunglasses. Because I wear sunglasses at night. Because I'm a douchebag. 

Now, for the record, I haven't been to a rave since I went through my... precarious party phase in New York. And I don't really rage like that anymore so I went thinking I'd have a few drinks, dance under the strobe light, head home early. 


I had a few drinks, danced under the strobe light, fell down some stairs, raged like a true raver, ended up on stage at some point, got yelled at by the bouncer and, at around 2:30, blitzed out of my mind, left with Eric. 

First we went back to Eric's friends house to listen to a really weird mix of music and do vodka shots and be weird. Left around 6 am. Went to Eric's where I promptly demanded to be horizontal and opted out of a shower so I could climb into bed. 

Probably a bad idea. I was so dirty. 

I had god only knows what in my hair, I was sweaty, covered in booze and neon paint and I looked worse than I've looked in a loooong time. But when Eric got back from his shower none of that dirtiness stopped him from jumping right into bed with me. At first, respecting the post rave exhaustion, he just cuddled and rubbed my back. Once I'd slept a while we began to play. 

No sex but a lot of fun. 

In the morning we realized that, having left his bike in town we had no trans so Eric starts to text his nearby friends to see if anyone will give us a ride. And we're snuggling and I can see him texting and I notice that he's talking to someone named Skip.



My Skipper.

And here Eric is... asking him to come pick us up. So I mention that maybe, just maybe, that's not the greatest idea. Because I know him.

In the biblical sense.

And this it hits me. This is Eric. This is Skipper's best friend Eric. Who Skip has told me about in detail. HIS BEST FRIEND. So of course immediately Eric tells Skip that he's with me.

Radio Silence.

Apparently Skipper didn't want to sleep with me anymore... but he also didn't want his friends to either...


I mean... what's the protocol for something like this? What does whore etiquette dictate for accidental best friend seducing?

The good news is that being Eskimo buddies with Skip doesn't seem to bother Eric.
We ended up calling a cab and I got redressed in my neon green dress, looked at myself in the mirror and tried, in vain, to pull myself together into some semblance of normalcy. Because I looked like shit. On top of the previous nights mess I now had bed head and some serious pillow marks.

Plus you know how after you've raged you wake up with everything looking different. Like your eyes are dull and your skin is gross looking and you smell like death.



So I threw on some emergency makeup, tried to tame my hair into a bun and walked out in a slutty slutty rave outfit.

Neon Walk Of Shame.

When I stopped to get cash out it was mortifying. I'm dressed like a fucking highlighter and everybody is staring at me. A bright light of shame. Or game. Either one.

Anyways, I think it might have been worth the shame because I found a fun playmate for, hopefully, the rest of the summer. I thought that, like most boys, he would just sort of disappear. That once I was out of sight I'd be out his thoughts too. But no. It's Sunday and ever since I left his side yesterday I've had a constant stream of lovely messages from him and he has been quite convincing in trying me to come over. I mean he promised me a back massage! Thats some serious willpower kryptonite. But luckily for my dignity I have no trans. I'm trying to make him work for it.

Wish me luck, lovelies.


Friday, July 27, 2012


WARNING: This contains some graphic, not so sexy, images. If you are squeemish you might want to skip this post. You've been warned.

So I promised you some sexytime stories and it may have taken me longer than I like to get down to it but, don't worry, I got in the field and I did some dirty work for y'all.

But unfortunately this isn't all sunshine and unicorn giggles.

Well... that wouldn't be my idea of a good time anyways. But thats besides the point. The point is that while I rejoice a sexual encounter I expect it to be a pleasant and pain-free experience. And sometimes my expectations are not met. But usually even when my experiences are total failures (see EMT guy, Ken, Jay.. and 85% of the other boys) I usually don't feel broken after. Except for that one time with Billy.

But I swore after Billy I'd never ever let a man break me like that again. I mean.. we are talking ice pack to the vag broken.

Not pretty.

Anyways, I'm getting ahead of myself.

I'm out in town with some friends and I'm drinking and dancing and doing the usual social mingle. And I have decided that I'm going to have sex. Because honestly, this shit is getting ridiculous. I have been home for almost a month, seen basically everyone of my past sex buddies and not a single person has propositioned me yet. That's insanity! I always get laid when I'm home. This is upsetting. So I'm going to have sex.

Well the whole freaking night goes by and nothing.

Except that I ran into a kid I used to babysit at the bar. Nothing makes you feel older than some tiny skinny girl in a crop top and tiny shorts bouncing around as you reminisce over babysitting adventures.


So my crew decides they want to leave and I run into Grant, my neighbor.

Now Grant and I have a bit of a past. See when I was regularly sleeping with Main Squeeze we had our share of... problems.

Secrecy, infidelity, lying, confusion. Etc. Anyways once I realize that our secrecy was because of the infidelity and his lying about having other girlfriends I may have gotten a liiiitle mad and gone on a sex spree.

This was all before I had this blog so you can't be mad that I didn't tell you about it. Anyways in one week I slept with a geek, a d-bag and I blew my next door neighbor... Grant.

But see, in the middle of blowing Grant two things happened. I realized that, having been finished off first, I wasn't that invested in Grant having an orgasm and Main Squeeze texted me asking me to come over.

MS was my first crush after Charlie crushed my heart. He was my first bad boy. So sexy and despite the aforementioned issues as soon as he texted I mumbled some excuse to Grant, left him there with a hard on and drove my drunken ass to MS's to have some crazy hate/love sex.

The next time I saw him we split a cab home with another girl and somehow all three of us ended up drinking wine by his pool and with the two of them dating.

Third time he tried to feel me up in a cab and I drunkenly gave him a talking to because I am clearly not that kind of woman and how dare he disrespect me.

Except clearly I'm totally that kind of woman

So this time I was shocked when everything was going fairly normally. We  got to our neighborhood. We'd already been poured on so it wasn't so hard to jump in the pool. Naked of course.
We started to play and I definitely thought he was going to drown when he started to give me oral underwater. Literally.. it was such a weird sensation and I definitely was enjoying myself but I was also worried that at any minute he was going to run out of air and die. And do you realize how awkward that would be?

I mean. Clearly I'd have to call 911. And wake up his family. And explain how he'd managed to drown in the shallow end of their pool. And why he was naked. And why I was there. And why I was wet. OMG and then I'd be that girl who'd killed a girl with her vagina. I'd be in a pool, naked, with a corpse.

Oh wow. Where's that klonopin?

We're on the fast track to anxiety-ville.

Anyways he didn't die.


We finish up in the pool and it's fucking freezing by this point so I'm looking forward to the warmth of a comfy bed and lots of body heat and sexiness.

Wrong again!

He tells me that his room is right between his darling sister and his parents so thats probably a bad idea. So we head to the sauna... the scene of our first encounter. More touching and playing and joking and I grab some condoms and then he's like... "Kitty... we're just having fun, right?"


Like come on. Look at me. I'm fucking naked in your sauna for the second time, drenched from a goddamn naked midnight swim in your porn-y friggin' pool. Do I look like I'm trying to marry you? NO. Shut up and get in me.

So we go at it for a bit. And then the wonders of drunkery get to him and we have some equipment malfunctions. He tries to make up for it and by this point I'm tired, uncomfortable (have you ever tried to fuck in a sauna? It's all wood and no cushions.) and I just want to be done already. But noooooo! He's a man and he has to prove himself.

So he's going for it and I'm enjoying it and whatever and then suddenly it's kind of painful and I brush it off because I often have this problem. Frictions a bitch, yo. So he's still going and right as I'm like stop, I'm done he stops and he's like "oh my god, I'm so sorry." So I look down and his arm is covered in blood.

Like... Looks like he was on the fucking set of Grey's Anatomy. And I realize he's apologizing because that blood is coming out of me.


Clearly we have to stop. Because I've managed to get blood all over him, me, the floor and the wooden seat of the sauna. Fuck. My. Life.

So he suggests we jump back in the pool. A brief swim and a mortifying experience of washing my blood off the floor later and we're heading to my house. Which is a few doors down from his so it wasn't a difficult commute. Just uncomfortable considering the wet clothes, the cold air and the blood on my legs.

I can't say I've ever been quite so mortified in my life.

Before I leave he makes a joke about how clearly this means we shouldn't try again since the world has it against us. So there goes that potential sex buddy.

Which I'm okay with since, you know, he broke my vagina and all. But still. It's sort of depressing to know that you might only get one one-night-stand during the whole 2 month vacation home.

Well I haven't had to put an ice pack on this time but this was definitely more upsetting than Billy. Hey Billy was gay, married and had a tiny penis. I didn't really care about not seeing him again but Grant is my neighbor! Who I've managed to be naked with quite a few times. Oh my god. I wonder if he's as scarred by that image as I am. Because seriously... it was like a horror movie.

I'm dying of embarrassment. And now that I have shared that embarrassment with all of the interwebs I think I shall retire to my bed and bury my head far far far under a pillow and a pile of blankets.

Please feel free to send me any comforting words or perhaps a mortifying story of your own to ease my wounded soul.


Wednesday, July 25, 2012


Which of these should we talk about first? I really want to dive in and get to the good slash mortifying stories of finally having sex again but I supposed I should get the less fun crap off my chest first. I try not to bog down the bloggersphere with woe-is-me/my-life-is-so-hard stories because this is supposed to be a fun blog! Somewhere to chronicle the exciting, mortifying and entertaining parts of my life.

Often this leads to less fun drama which is still, in my opinion, entertaining as a story.

But sometimes, like now, things happen that have no comedic value but need to be told as well because, lets face it, I like to talk about myself. And this shit is real life.

I'm moving to London. When I first realized a few months ago that I had to leave the city that's become home to my heart I was devastated. I cried like a lunatic in the middle of times square as I reconciled myself with the idea that I would be leaving my great job and coworkers, my best friends, my apartment and everything that I considered to be safe.

If you know me you know I don't handle change well. When I go to a restaurant I always order the same things because if I don't pick something that I know I'll like I have actual fits of anxiety. I hate moving, I hate blind dates, I hate being in a room of people I don't know. Hell I can't even walk home via a different route without an extremely good reason. I'm someone who needs routine.

So when I learned that my routine of 5 years was about to, not only change, but be obliterated I was petrified.

I spent so many nights having rambling breakdowns and panic attacks and keeping Lizz from her bed because I couldn't stop talking or else I might combust.

I'm fairly certain that I need some serious drugs for this kind of anxiety.

After about a month I pulled my shit together. I stopped crying in the bathroom at work, stopped playing with the idea that the government would magically rescind their decision and let me stay. I stopped bothering to check my many New York centered coupon sites. And I decided on a new plan.

Where I'm from there is not a lot of film or TV work. And since that's what I've spent 5 years and far too much money learning how to do, I don't plan on stopping. The good news was that both my sister and my best  friend from cradle to grave, Ella, were in London for school.

Guess what they have in London... Film and TV.




My father decided that since Marie's apartment lease was about to be up and we were both going to need an apartment that we should move in together. Now since my father has graciously absorbed all of my relocation costs I figured I should go along with his plan despite the fact that Marie and I haven't harmoniously lived together for many years now.

Marie is incredibly smart and funny and there was a time when she was my number one choice when going out. We always had a good time and it was always fun. And clearly that was when we were younger and crazier and I know she had to grow up so we don't really do that anymore. Now her priorities line up more with what her boyfriend and her want to do and girl time is sort of pushed aside. Which is fine. I've always been able to entertain myself.

But the part I'm not so fine with is that she's managed to adopt my fathers volatile temper. We can be hanging out all day, no problem and then I'll say a joke or just a turn of phrase that doesn't sit well with her and it's suddenly World War 3.

And it's a definite double standard because the majority of Marie's humor is built around making fun of me or making me look stupid or demeaning me or picking on whichever of the numerous things that upset her about me she feels like. And if I get mad or stand up for myself then she gets mad because it's just a fucking joke and how could I take it so seriously, why do I ruin everything.

I love her and when we're having fun we are unstoppable but sometimes it just feels like everything I do is just ammunition for her to point out how much I suck.

Maybe we're both just too stressed to see how badly we treat each other but it definitely isn't making me any less anxious about what my life in London will be like. I fear that, like right now, I will end up spending the majority of my time locked in my bedroom waiting anxiously for the next fight. That I will no longer be the free outgoing soul I was in New York but just a shell of a person who makes herself smaller to placate others and avoid conflict.

I actually think this is a valid anxiety.

I know that somehow once we are all in London and find an apartment and get jobs and things settling into a routine I will feel more at ease and without this stress Marie and I will get back on track and life will mellow out again. It's just causing me a lot of anxiety right now and I'm not sure when I can get my prescription of Klonopin filled so I'm just hoping that my heart doesn't max out and burst anytime soon.

 I'm looking forward to the day I land in London because I will be like "OMG I IZ IN LONDONLAND BITCHEZ" And then there will be 2 weeks of stress and freaking out and I'm sure a million and one fights with Marie and then my Dad comes to visit which means another million fights.

But then I'm looking forward to the after.

The moment that I've figured out my routine and schedule and I have my bed set up and my boxes unpacked and I feel grounded. Then I have to believe that the fights will subside and that life will become something fun and interesting again.

And at that moment I will post a million photos of me doing stuff in London and I'll be "ZOMG I LOVE IT HERE."

Thats what I have to keep thinking about. The upside.
Just keep thinking about the upside.

Okay I've gone on for quite a bit about the setbacks so maybe I'll save the screwing around for the next post.

Love y'all


Tuesday, July 24, 2012


In my ongoing attempt to become a skinnier, prettier, more talented and, all around, better version of myself I have taken back up working out and eating healthier.

I think my first post about this particular topic was way back in 2010 and clearly the situation hasn't gotten better. But, while I accept responsibility for being lazy, I feel like I have some valid excuses in there too. I had two back to back stressful jobs with long hours. I have a certain social reputation to hold up that doesn't really allow for full nights of sleep or a diet without a certain allocation for vodka calories. And I get bored really easily. Plus I swear I have some ADD shit going on because I cannot focus on one thing to save my life.

My brain is a goddamn labyrinth of booze, boys, bad decisions and mathematical equations.

Also, in my defense, I never really ate badly. I just didn't think about what I was eating. There was no consideration for when I ate or whether I ate carbs or protein before the gym. Ooh and I have a serious sweet tooth.

Well I've been home for a few weeks now and I kept putting off working out or getting my ass in gear about anything. Marie, who over the last year has gone from normal human to health fiend with super human workout skillz kicked me in the pants and told me I should just fucking do it.

So I've been running and eating more salads and drinking less coffee and I now order my vodka with soda water instead of sprite.

I still can't fucking sleep though.

Anyways I made a yummy protein packed dinner tonight and I figured I'd share... even though it doesn't really fit with the normal theme of this blog.


After running three miles I made a simple, quick dinner for my and my pops out of shit in my fridge and pantry.

-Whole Wheat Rigatoni (1/2 cup dry per serving instead of 3/4 cups)
- Canned Artichoke Hearts (3 per serving)
- Canned Tuna (I use solid packed in water. 1 can yields 3 servings)
- Light Alfredo Sauce
- Minced Garlic (I use the stuff that comes in a jar)
- Optional Walnuts

Thats it.

First drain your Artichokes and Tuna. I hate that canned taste so I'm a little neurotic about draining. I like to drain, rinse, drain and then squeeze out the remaining liquid with a paper towel. It doesn't matter if you fuck it up. Shit's getting chopped up anyways.

Toss a lil' olive oil on your now drained tuna. Give it a little lovin'

Throw pasta in a pot of boiling water and let it get soft and delicious. My favorite pasta is rigatoni but I'm not prejudiced against any carb. Throw whatever noodles you want in there.

While thats boiling, get yourself out a nice saucepan and discover why they're called saucepans.

It's not just because they're fancy.

Heat that shit up. Throw in a lil' minced garlic. When it starts to smell real pretty chuck in your alfredo sauce. I used a little less than the package suggested because I don't like my pasta to be drowning in sauce. But hey, go crazy, do yo' thang.

Then take a quick chop chop to those artichokes. Chuck em in too.

Ditto on the tuna.

Stir it around.

I put some black pepper in it because I was feelin' fancy.

Then I strained my pasta and chucked that in too. Stirred it a bit then I put it in a bowl and devoured it.

As a weird last minute addition I garnished it with a few walnuts and, let me tell you, that shit was fucking delicious.

So even though you use less pasta and sauce then the packages say to your still loading up on the goodness of filling tuna protein and yumyums of artichoke hearts.

Now don't go getting all alarmed. This whole recipe thing probably won't become a usual thing. As soon as I find some trouble to get into I'll be back here to report but for now food it is.

So go out there my little minions and throw some shit in a saucepan and get crazy and eat healthy noms and be healthy and fit so that you can stick around for a long time to watch me further shamblize my life.




So since I've been back I've been working at rekindling my friendships with various hometown buddies.

Getting my girlfriends back, my tan back, my drink back and my boys back.

Including Ninja. Because despite all the twisty turn-y angst that that boy has caused my soul I still consider him a good friend. Like at the heart of the issue all I want is for him to be happy. Happy with his wife, as painful as that may some times be, is still happy. So I support that. And I support him. Isn't that enough? 

Well so far it seemed to be going pretty good. We've been texting - back to the usual sarcastic banter etc. 

So then I run into him on friday night after I'd had a few drinks. And when I drink I'm friendly. And he and I are friends so I was friendly. 

But not like... overly. Just friendly. 

And I'm dancing with his friends and joking with everyone and having an awesome time and he's joking with me and gives me hugs and playfully pinching me and it's just a fun night. And I leave pretty early and everything seems great. I didn't flirt, I didn't do anything inappropriate. I just had an awesome night with one of my best friends. 

So cut to a week later - why is it that when I run into him and Tori at a street fair he doesn't even stop to speak? Like.. I say hello and slow down and he just keeps walking.

She didn't even acknowledge that I was there.

Like... what the hell? 

We're either friends or we aren't and if we aren't then lets just stop. Because I can't do this shit. I honestly can't. I'm so sick of being someones secret. 

First it was Ninja, then Main Squeeze, then I dunno... every fucking boy I've ever been with. 

This sucks. 

And then I come home and bemoan my woes to Marie and she pretty much makes it clear that despite my good intentions (my words, not hers) I'm still wrong. 

Because at the end of the day Ninja is married. And I'm just a blimp from his past. And Tori has a reason to hate me. I'm hatable. There is someone who actively hates me.

And I deserve it. 

According to Marie if I were any kind of decent I would just walk away from Ninja and never look back. No more texting, no more talking, no more hanging out. Just get rid of the friendship. But I'm clearly not decent. I'm clearly a shitty fucking hatable person. 

She's right. I should just resign myself to the fact that even if all I want is for him to be happy that I'm still the adulterous cunt in this situation. I've fucked up too much. I'm a fuck up. 

Ugh I didn't mean for this to turn into a pity party. Just makes me sad. Because I'm either a bitch and friends with him or sad without him. 

Off to bed. 


Monday, July 23, 2012


So I landed back home and I get to work on my social calls and keeping myself busy. And then my girls NP and Shiv come to visit and we have a sweet ass bitchin' time. And that keeps me busy too. And then Skip gets back.

And I'm like YAY! Playmate in the house! Woot woot! Sexy time!

So I see him out and I give him a big hug and he's drunk and I'm drinking and I get some kisses and he's holding my hand and it's great. It's New York funtime but back home! How great is this?!

So he and his bros move to another bar and he's all "come with me, come on baby" but I'd just ordered a drink the size of my head so I decided to meet up with him later.

He leaves, gives me a nice kiss good bye and goes.
I drink my big drink. And another. And, oops, one more.

Then I go to track him down. And track him down I have to. Because he's not where he said he'd be. So I, like a fucking crazy person go to two more bars before I find him.

I find him and he's fucking shit faced. Like... deadly amounts of alcohol had been consumed. So I of course cuddle right up to him and start making out. Because I like my boyfriends blackout.
And we're kissing and cuddling and it's all good stuff. Then suddenly he starts talking about how we don't make sense and how theres only two months left together so really its a waste of time to be together.


I know I just said I like my boyfriends blackout but that doesn't mean I actually think you're my boyfriend! Ew no! We're just having fun and frankly the fact that we have a near approaching expiration date is one of my favorite things about us.

We argued for a bit and then eventually I realized that I was drunk, he was drunk and there was no point to arguing any further. Went our separate ways.

But I'm not giving up. I'm going to get my sexbuddy back. Especially since my dad is going away next week ;)


Thursday, July 19, 2012


So remember that Skipper character I was telling you about?

Of course you do, I only introduced him 2 posts ago.

Anyways as previously stated he was being pretty awesome to me. We were hanging out all the time and not always in a sexual way. Like he's not just in it for the sex.

Clearly this is a good thing.



When presented with something wonderful instead of seeing the glass half full I see a challenge to destroy the glass.

I dunno if I mentioned this before but part of the reason I've been missing in action is because I was in the process of being kicked out of New York.
Well... out of America actually.

So in fine Kitty Kat fashion I decided to celebrate/mourn my departure in the best way I know how: Drunkly.

I decided to throw a party! I spent all this time planning and making it, in my head, sound awesome. I, in my nervous angsty state, tell everyone for 6 weeks how awesome this party is going to be. We're going to drink at my place and then go on a drunken scavenger hunt and get wasted and stupid and make it a night that we can't remember.


That didn't happen.

There was some drama with people not wanting to participate which sent me in a downward spiral of anxiety and led to some preemptive drinking. Which led to me running out of time and deciding to nix the scavenger hunt that I'd been talking about for so long. Which led to more anxiety and more drinking.

So when 8 rolled around and Skip showed up I was half in the bag and having a bit of a breakdown.

So sexy.

We end up hanging out for two hours just the two of us so I get drunk and crazy, I'm jumping on furniture and giving kisses and singing along to pandora like a mad woman. And he's just taking it all in with a smile.

Explain to me then why I decided that night to get belligerent and do something stupid?

After 2 hours of anxious waiting my friends and coworkers showed up. Including my work husband slash best guy friend, Jay.

Now I love Jay in a purely platonic way, despite our previous... encounter.

But I do love the kid. And I'm very sad to be leaving him. I'm a drunk and hes Italian. So clearly we like to mourn with our mouths.

And I'm not talking about talking...

We're being playful the whole time that we're at my house and more people are arriving and somewhere between drink 4 and 14 I kind of lose sight of Skipper and I'm dancing with people and Jay's holding me up and we're sharing a cigarette on the fire escape and having heart to hearts and thats when it hits me... I'm leaving!

Like... the country.
And all my friends and the people who have become my family.

And I start to have another break down. And Jay is there to comfort me and soon I'm suggesting that we all head to a bar. And I grab Skip and give him a kiss but then I'm off, arm in arm with Jay. Get to the bar and its all downhill. I'm getting free drinks and shots and I can't tell which way is up.

To be fair at this point I got very flirty with everyone... Skip, Jay, Shiv, Bobby the bouncer... the walls..

And I tried to get Skip up and dancing. I'm pulling at him and purring in his ear and he is just not budging from his barstool. So I move on to all of my coworkers.. dancing and singing and playing and the oh whoops my mouth is on Jays.

And then Jay and I are kissing.

It starts with a simple kiss. A peck. We're talking about how close we're going to stay and Jay's telling me how much I mean to him and it's just a kiss. A goodbye kiss.

And another.
And another..
And another....

And thus the night goes. I get drunker and it's not long before I've halfway mounted Jay in the hallway and we're making out pretty hard core.


We return to the main bar and I'm off again, singing karaoke and saying my goodbyes to everyone.

So many tears.

The night comes to a close, and so does the bar so we head off into the night.
More goodbyes
More tears.

Skipper is comforting Siobhan as she has an epic breakdown and I love him for that.

So Jay and the other coworkers disappear into the night and I grab my man Skip and we head home.

He helps me out of my shoes, which I've managed to break, and feeds me a sandwich and a few glasses of water. Gets me undressed and puts me to bed.

He even lets me get frisky and play with him.

Now I'm not completely oblivious... I'm aware that he was pretty quite all night but I figure he was fine with the events because he still took me home. In my head it totally makes sense that he'd understand that the business with Jay was just goodbye kisses... right?

Ugh I'm not good at this shit.

At least I went out with a bang.

Can you imagine the shit that would have gone down if Mitch had shown up? Oh lordy.

More drams later..


Wednesday, July 18, 2012


So last week we learned about Jay, my work husband and one time playmate.

This week lets talk about Mitch.

His boss.

So remember how I said I try not to do anything blog worthy at my job? Oops. I fucked up.
First with Jay and then with Mitch.

See the night after I hooked up with Jay I decided to hang out with the crew again. Now technically I had finished my internship and no longer was a member of the company but I was still seeing them pretty frequently.


Jay, Mitch, myself and two other employees decide to go out for Korean munchies and drinks after work the day after Jay and I hooked up. It starts out as just a few drinks and food and fun and all that goodness. Then the suggestion of karaoke comes up.

In case you didn't know already... I love Karaoke. LOVE.
The last time I went to Karaoke with this crew of characters we got so wasted that Jay took off his shirt and effectively molested our head of HR.

Clearly this is an experience we all need to repeat.

So we roll down to K Town for some good ol' fashioned singing fun. Belt out a few jams. Then everyone decides to pack in ti pretty early. Jay ditches for home the first and then everyone sort of peters off.

Then it's just Mitch and I.

Which is sort of weird because Mitch, being one of the bosses at the company, is not really someone I ever spent alone time with.

As the only one who doesn't have a job to get to in the morning I was expecting to have to go home early but was more than happy to oblige when Mitch suggested we get another drink.

Now heres a little background on Mitch.

Mitch is a sexy, 30 something, who dresses wonderfully, is ridiculously sweet but still can joke like a bro.
Oh and he's married with two beautiful children.

So we go to a bar and order a pair of beers and Mitch starts to open up. Like a lot. About how horrible his marriage is and how his wife doesn't love him and I'm like... I'm 22... how do I help a grown man with his grown up problems?

So we nurse our beers for about an hour and I try to help him with some super deep and drunk advice.

We decide we've been nursing our, not yet finished, beers for long enough and he offers to drive me home.

Who am I to turn down a free ride, right?

So we walk towards Mitch's car and right before we get to the parking lot he pulls me aside and, in the cutest way ever asks if he can kiss me.

Now I know what you're thinking. He's married! And that is a huge dealbreaker for me. It always has been. But he had just bared his tortured little soul and he asked so nicely and he's so sexy and I was so drunk.

So I said yes.

Pure sidewalk makin' out.

It was great. We then pull apart and head to get his car. Get this... he opens the door for me. Like... for real. He seems almost flabbergasted that I would even presume to open my own door.

Oh my god its a fucking Gentleman. I thought these had gone extinct!

I get in the car and Mitch pulls out of the car park annnnnd into a parking spot.

20 more make out minutes. He throws on some sweet jams and we're talking and kissing and if you forget about the wife and kids it's actually really nice. But you can't really forget about the wife since she calls him and asks where he's sobering up. Not exactly a mood maker.

Anyways. Mitch drives me home. Pulls over to let me out annnnnd more make out.

And he is just laying on the compliments and is acting so cute and he's asking if he's okay at kissing and I feel like I'm back in high school and teaching boys how to kiss. And usually a man needing validation in his skills is a turn off... like... don't be so needy. Don't fish for compliments. I want a man to be so self assured and confident that he doesn't need me to tell him how great he is.

But I'll make an exception in this case. Because he was so damn cute about it.

So we kiss and confer for a little while but then it's 3 am and where did the time go? He walks me to my door, more kisses and then leaves. And I'm like... what the fuck just happened?...

Oh My God.

Who am I and where did Kitty Kat go?



Monday, July 16, 2012


So I never really talk about my work. Mainly because I try not to do anything blog worthy at work.

Also because in the extensive list of things that make me anxious -
(including, but not limited to, eating foods I don't like, driving too close to others, encountering bees, potential allergic reactions, bathing suits, the sniffles potentially being a serious disease, dirty laundry, a warm bedroom, over sleeping, not completing an assigned task, moving, talking to strangers, picking out a movie to watch, making any kind of decision and buying jewelry I never wear)
- I try not to add "my coworkers found out about my blog"

Well I briefly mentioned somewhere in the twittersphere that I had stopped bartending in November but I never really talked about where I went after.

I assure you I haven't just been drinking. I do work.

I joined a small production company as a lowly intern slash assistant. And when  I first started I recognized one of the other interns from a project I did with MugWug freshman year of college.
This Intern is named Jay. We spent a few days freshman year in a sound booth making a cartoon dub for one of their classes. I remember him so clearly so the first day he gets introduced to me and I'm like "hey!" and he's like "..."

Jay did not remember Kitty.


I mean, to be fair, when he first met me I was a size 6, had crazy fucking zebra striped hair and dressed like a slutty slob. Now I'm definitely not a size 6, my hair is mostly one color and I dress like a classy slut.

Anyways. After about a month I finally told him who I was and went to working on making him my friend.

I succeeded.

Jay does a lot of field work while I was pretty strictly on the office side of things so everyday that he was in I would linger by his door making small chat, offering up interesting factoids and basically weaseling my way into conversations. Wasn't long before he was my biffle.

Days that he was in the field were sad because I had one less person to chat with and bother.

One day the whole office when to a party together and from then on it was party central all the time.

I find drinking to be a great bonding experience.

So between work and play I got pretty close with Jay. I knew all about his girl problems, he heard endlessly about my boy problems, we bonded over career aspirations and tried to hang out as much as possible with such a busy schedule.

Perfect Work Husband.

But you know what you aren't supposed to do with a work husband?
Anything you would do with a real husband.

So explain to me why on my last week at the company I threw a mini party and it ended with Jay and I in bed?

Now you already know I'm basically seeing Skip already. But he was in Connecticut for the night and I had a few work friends over for drinks. After the girls left it was just Jay and I left drinking and talking and bonding. And Jay is getting closer and closer and I'm like... oh no. So then he starts asking me what I want to do and I'm like "well we could go out?" So I start to get ready to go out and hes goes "or we could just hang out for a while... then go out"

This already sounds like sex.

So we throw on some music and start awkward dancing in my living room.
Then he suggests we watch a movie.
In my bedroom.

His reasoning? He likes to lie down while watching movies.

So we put Bring It On - Again on and lie down. I'm like falling off my bed I'm trying so hard to not touch him. Because I know where this is going.

And sure enough 10 mins into the movie hes like... "I think we should make out"

And I sort of, kind of, maybe lost it just a little... I start rattling off why its a bad idea and how we shouldnt and how my house is a mess and I'm not prepared, like not lady prepared for all that jazz. And he's like "no, I promise we won't have sex but I like making out."

Sound innocent right?


Making out leads to feeling me up leads to him trying to put his hands down my pants. I nearly jumped out of my skin. And the whole time I'm laughing because this is Jay! We don't do this, this is most definitely not us. And it's not that Jay isn't attractive, like he is, and if he wasn't my friend and wasn't my Jay I would have signed up for this ages ago but I just never even concidered it. I mean... it's Jay! Hence the laughing.

Do you know how hard it is to kiss while you're laughing hysterically? It's not easy.

Well... Jay is very convincing and he persuaded me into things that I wasn't prepared for. Emotionally or physically if you get my drift. But I guess he was true to his word in that we didnt have sex. I think he realized what a mess I was though because he spent the whole night after cuddling on me and rubbing my back in a calming way.

...this is starting to be a pattern, isn't it?..

In the morning I expect him to be super awkward but nope.. Jay wakes up and he's cuddly and affectionate and I end up doing something I haven't done since high school... I gave him a bloody handjob. And he seemed to really enjoy himself there... lol

Good to know I'm still a stroker of genius.

Anyways I think it's totally going to be super awkward now but nope. He leaves. And life goes on and then its back to friendship normalcy. All that stress and it turned out to be A-okay.

On the upside I still have a really good friend in Jay. And we had fun and who cares, right?
On the downside.. I have no willpower.


Well that's your intro to Jay. Next you'll get to learn about Mitch.

...Jay's boss...


Wednesday, July 11, 2012


So wow... apparently there's this blog that I'm supposed to be writing.


But I promised an update and here it is.

The fact of the matter is that the last month has been a hellhole of stress, emotions and poor decisions. All the things needed to make a great blog, I know, but where's the time??

And with everything going on I never know how to proceed with the backlog. Whether it makes sense to just write one giant post and tell you everything or stagger it in a time-lapse sort of format.


I supposed I have enough drama to spread out into multiple posts.

Lets go back in time a bit.

So after my run in with a radioactive mosquito and a pain in the ass Joey I returned to the city to nurse my wounds (literally) and drank away the memory of inconsiderate boys I found myself back into the city routine.

Work, drink, sleep, work.

Then things got a little shaken up. See my long lost hometown friend showed up in New York.

Lets call him Skipper. He's ex-navy so the name fits. Plus it seems appropriate for a boy I knew as a trickster when I was 16.

So Skip had told me he was coming to NY for the month of June so, despite the potential awkwardness that might result from a 3 year past drunken hookup, I decide we should definitely meet up.

A saturday afternoon, some soccer and 6 pints later we're making out.


Should have expected this.

He's a good looking hometown hookup in New York. Why not?

So we drink and kiss and drink and kiss and wind up knackered at  my house far earlier than normal.

I'm thinking this is great! I'm about to head home fore 3 months and he's heading back after a month in NY. Temporary boy toy! Who wouldn't love that?

So from then onward I was seeing Skip fairly regularly. Hanging out with my friends, getting drunk, getting tattoos. The usual.

But here's the catch. We barely are hooking up. We're doing a lot of kissing and holding hands and going on adventures but not a lot of naked adventures. So I'm having fun but am a little confused about what we are.

So this gets more confusing one night when he and I get into a spat at a bar.

He's being obnoxious and I'm being a bitch because I'm hangry and tired. So after we quip at each other for a few hours he surprises me. Because he doesn't just pull some macho male BS and make this situation worse. He actually looks at me and realizes that I'm just hungry and bitchy and suggests we go get dinner. After he buys me a delicious meal and digs me up some asprin he takes me home, tucks me in and watches a movie with me, rubbing my back until I fall asleep.

Oh shit.

This ones a good one.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?..

I'm used to the boys I screw being in it for the screwing. Not for the rubbing of backs and cuddling and things.

This could be dangerous.

Anyways this renewal of blogging has really taken it out of me so I think it's time to retire to my oh so strenuous life of leisure*.

* Oh yah I don't have a job anymore. More on that later.


Monday, June 4, 2012


So yesterday I told you where I've been for the past few weeks but I left something kind of major out!

Another reason why I've been finding it difficult to write here regularly is because I'm actually trying to tackle some pretty major non-blog writing. Firstly I need to finish at least a first draft of my screenplay before I leave next month. If I return to my hometown without a single piece of proof that I didn't waste 5 years in NYC then I might send myself into a booze driven coma.

Aside from the failing screenplay I've also started my second attempt at a novel.

The first attempt was when I was in high school and tried writing young adult fiction. Somewhere between the witch craft and talking to animals I realized I was an idiot.

I abandoned it after 3 pages.

Well this time so far I have 3 chapters. And hopefully more to come. It's not really fiction. It's... semi fiction.
Much like this blog it is a story severely inspired by true events with a slight fictionalization thrown in for privacy and... well because sometime my life isn't that fucking entertaining.

Bitchez need to be entertained.

And I'm spending all this time thinking of shit to put into my book and my screenplay to entertain all the bitchez in the world and I just sort of forgot to put some time and thought aside for KKC.

But KKC is my baby. And frankly I write better when I start with a snarky tirade of depravity so it's in my best interest to post more often. More posts = more creative juices = more writing = me not being a big ol' bum.

Deal? Sounds good to me.

'K, I'm at work now so I should go and do... work. But talk soon my loves.



I admit that I sort of abandoned this blog for a little while.

You see right after I posted that last one I packed myself a bag and flew my ass home for a week. See after a long long time of never being home I've really been taking advantage of the 2 hour flights home these past few months.

So I went home and kept meaning to write but, as happens when I'm home, I got drunk instead.


So I'll give you the run down of my time back  home:

tuesday - fly home. beerpong. run into Joey*
wednesday - chill all day. drink all night. get mosquito bite.
thursday - dad goes away leaving little ol' me with a house alone. sleep at Joey's.
friday - tanning. happy hour. dinner with friends. drinking drinking drinking. realize that my mosquito bite is like radioactive or something. fight with Joey.
saturday - taxi to the ER to deal with radioactive mosquito bite. Find out I am now a super hero**. Drink drink drink.
sunday - dad returns. just chill and pack.
monday - return to nyc.

* - so I astricked Joey's name because there are SO many details I need to share with you. Like why I only spent one night with Joey. And why my being a super hero clearly cramped his style.

So on tuesday when I ran into him there was this awkward "hey we've had sex mulitple times but I didn't tell you I was coming home" shuffle before I finally ballsed up and said hi. He nodded his head in acknowledgment and then left without saying anything. An hour after he disappeared (while I was on the losing side of a rousing game of beerpong) he texted me.


A soberly misspelled hello text from a past lover after he doesn't speak in person? Is this a booty call I detect?

Alas no. After we exchange hellos he goes silent. No booty call for me tonight. Which is fine because I already have my hands full making sweet beerpong shots and being fucking social.

So wednesday comes with no communication with the man I once spent many a naked night with. Instead I have a run in with a feisty mosquito. Now I have had many a skeeter bite in my day but this motherfucking really took a chunk out of me. (keep this little factoid in mind)

So thursday I take off from drinking. Just sort of chill out at home, went to see some friends and then ended up in a movie marathon. I get a reasonably early text from the boy. We make small talk, catch up a little bit and then he tells me he's going to bed. Owell.

Cut to 3 hours, a movie and half and a bowl of popcorn later and I get a follow up text. Something along the lines of "hey I'm awake lets have sex."

Usually that would be a turn off but since the sex in question is a guaranteed good time and only 3 minutes away I changed out of my sweatpants and hopped on my moped and went on my merry sexy way.
And we had fun. We always do. And like always Joey surprised me. I walk in and disrobe and then he just cuddles and chats for an hour before we have our grown up playtime. And afterwards we stayed up talking.. or in his case making me laugh with his overly tired nonsense rambling. He asks me to stay the night and I do but have to leave at 6 am before my usual round of morning sex.

Sad times.

So friday I expect more naked time. Especially considering that I have the whole house to myself. So I text him and he gives me some cavalier response about hanging out with a friend. NBD. I go to happy hour. Have some drinks and foodz. Then I text him at the next bar. To be fair to my dignity I did wait until my 3rd post dinner drink. He tells me he's still at a friends. So I go to the next bar.

And LO BEHOLD. In walks Joey.

Thanks for letting me know you were on your way Dbag.

Its crowded and I don't think he sees me so, giving him the undeserved benefit of the doubt, I grab his arm and say hi. He nods and keeps walking.

And doesn't come back.

An hour later when I can't seem to find him I text to ask where he's disappeared to...

"went home"

Clearly my only choice of levelheaded responses is "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??"

I'd like to state for the record that I was many drinks in by this point. I was already peeved that he hadn't kept in touch and I was of the opinion that it was clear that he'd be sleeping at mine that night. And then he LEAVES?! You're kidding me... So mad.

Now you remember that little bug bite I told you about? Well by this point it had spread to cover a very large part of my arm and my fingers were starting to go numb. Not exactly helpful to my mood. So now I'm pissed at Joey, my fingers are going numb and I feel like shit. I head home soon after. By the time I've sobered up at home alone my arm feels like it's going to explode and I'm crying on the phone to Lizz because I'm prety sure I'm dying.


Just as I'm reaching maximum freak out mode I get a text from Joey.

"u got trans?"

I shit you not that is a direct quote.

So I'm like... does he want me to come to him house now? after tonight? Fuck no. So I tell him I do but I'm not coming over. Oh wait... but he doesn't want me to drive 2 minutes to his house. Oh no. He wants me to drive to his friends house 20 minutes away to give him a ride to his car so that he can go home.

Wait, but wasn't he already at home?  Nope. Nope.

So I tell him I can't come get him because I'm about to drive myself to the ER because I'm really sick. And do you want to know what his response is??

"Just not my night tonight"



I just about fucking lost my mind. And then I find out that I can't drive myself to the hospital and I lose my shit a little bit more. Needless to say my response pretty much ensures that I won't be having fun time with Joey anymore.

Sucks but owell. Maybe I'll find someone to settle down with. Or maybe I'll find a new funtime partner. Either way I'm sure I'll find a way to be happy :)

**oh and about that bite.... I maaaay have lied about the super power thing. Turns out it was a bacterial infection. Gnarly right? Pics for proof ->

Narsty I know. 
And it spread down to my elbow before I got it fixed. 

Alright well that's all for tonight. I think I've taken enough of your time with my ramblings. I'll catch you up on other things another time. 


Saturday, May 19, 2012


To be fair I'd like to point out that the majority of these weird things probably involve other people. Hence I am not alone in my weirdness.

Here goes nothing.

You're Welcome. 

1) Read an entire thesaurus. Don't ask why. It's a long story.
2) Keeping with the reading theme: Read all of the Redwall books in order of publishing, reverse order, in chronological order (by book topic not publishing date) and I made a family tree showing all the characters and how they're related.
3) Went through a phase where I thought I was a designer and I made bracelets and crappy purses out of cut up jeans. Many a good jean was lost to my misplaced dreams.
4) Sometimes I force Liz to play footdance with me. It's where we put our feet together and dance.
5) To this day my favorite candy is york peppermint patty on top of a Reese's peanut butter cup.
6) Eat pizza backwards.
7) I own 3 bibles. 1 is pink and gold. 1 has both Latin and English translations. 1 has extensive notes. Oh and I don't believe in God.
8) When I get really stressed or nervous my nose bleeds. Sometimes it gushes and sometimes it trickles. It always is gross,
9) Worked out a very elaborate mathematical equation to make sense of the LOST numbers. In the end it turned out there was no sense to be had and I was very upset. Fucking magnetic polar bear shit.
10) My best friend in high school once convinced me Advil were chewable. So I chewed one. DEATH.
11) When no one is around I talk as if there are so that neighbors/delivery guys won't think I'm a sad and lonely person.
12) When I forget to act normal and I am alone I make little noises that are not quite song nor speech but more of a secret communication that only stuffed animals and imaginary friends can understand.
13) Learnt sign language from a book.
14) I can say dinosaurs fucking and Bitch, make me a sandwich in sign language. Oh and Harmony.
15) Made a boy cry in a particularly brutal field hockey match. I was 12.
16) On occasion me and my band of cohorts have been known to adopt fake accents, names and persona's. I'd like to say it's the actor in us but really we just crazy.
17) I have been known, on occasion, to dissect ravioli and take the cheese out of the middle before eating the pasta.
18) When I was a child I had 3 imaginary friends.
19) I named them Andrew, Sandy and Rocko. (It was a love triangle. Even at 5 years old I understood where my love life was headed)
20) When I'm drunk I like to hide in closets/bushes/under stairwells to see if anyone will miss me and try to find me.
21) Always take a journal in my carry on luggage.
22) Never write in it.
23) Been hiccuping for 7 years.
24) I made my barbies go to 4th base before I did (waaay before [barbie was a slut])
25) I'm extremely OCD about doorknobs. I cant touch one without touching something else first.
26) Talk to my dog as if she were a real person.
27) Get mad if someone talks to her in baby talk. (It demeans her intelligence)
28) Went Vegan.
29) Sleeping standing up.
30) Take a GMAT practice test for fun.
31) Put everything onto a post it note.
32) Always carry a sharpie.
33) Draw on EVERYTHING with said sharpie.
34) Forced a suitor to fill out an application to be my boyfriend. He passed (barely). It was a brief affair.
35) Take pictures any injury that bleeds.
36) Did THIS.
37) Drank out of THESE 
38) Commented on a facebook status 208 times in 30 minutes. Lizzie has a lot to do with this one.
39) Bought Mario PJ pants
40) And pink cat pants.
41) Rarely wear any pants.
42) Drunkenly impersonate a french bulldog.
43) Name everything Bob. Everything.
44) Purr.
45) Installed red lighting in my bedroom. What can I say. I'm inspired by the red light district?
46) On the same theme: I may or may not have under bed restraints.
47) Holographic Jesus FTW.
48) Bought and played with Lego. At age 22.
49) Had a band. We called ourselves Plaid. We had two great songs. I was 5.
50) I was given a poster of Lord of the Rings and had to tape over Orlando Blooms eyes because I was convinced he was watching me. And that he was so mad that I liked Aragon better than Legolas.
51) Made up my own language. (Sort of)
52) Learnt Elvish
53) Wrote my diary in Latin.
54) Wore 3 watches. At the same time. One of them was a Minnie Mouse watch. I was 16.
55) Give fake names at Pinkberry.
56) Started an anonymous blog.
57) Then only let my friends read it....
58) Eat plain seaweed right out of the bag.
59) Eat uncooked oatmeal.
60) Wrote a musical on time travel. The number about Christopher Columbus was my best work to date.
61) Assumed the personality of a french doomsday weather man.
62) Watched How To Train Your Dragon twice in a row.
63) Cried every single time that Hiccup gets hurt.
64) Solo dance party!
65) Turned my livingroom into a Dharma Bunker for a Lost party.
66) Slept in Lizzies yard with Will when we were 16. It rained.
67) Named a collection of left over beers. They became a little beer family. Until the fateful day that Candi drank Fredrick. Sad times.
68) Cry at weddings. Doesn't matter whose it is. I just start bawling.
69) Nutella & Goldfish. Nuff said.
70) Slept in my living room for several months because I saw a roach heading in the general direction of my bedroom.
71) Grafittied a hedgehog on a skateboard onto every desk and locker I've ever been assigned.
72) Entered a healthy lunchbox competition. Won.
73) Started painting what I was sure was my epic masterpiece. Never finished. Hung the drop cloth on the wall instead.
74) Whistle like a bird.
75) Can't snap
76) Pretended to be allergic to onions.
77) Turned out to actually be allergic to onions.
78) Lip sync to Pandora when I'm at work.
79) Ditto for *subtle* chair dancing. Sometime I just gotta jam, man.
80) Type in rhythm to whatever I'm listening to. Sorry coworkers.
81) Got cracked out on caffeine pills and didn't sleep for 3 days.
83) Ordered a grilled cheese to get delivered to a hospital when I was injured and hungover.
84) Railed off of night club seat. Not sanitary at all.
85)I always sleep on the same side of the bed. Despite how difficult it may to get into that side.
86) Photoshopped a picture of a male friend to make him look like a drag queen/
87) Used a rainbow glow in the dark condom.
88) bought a 4XL Hockey Jersey from a high school league.
89) Stripper pole in my living room.
90) Drank a prairie oyster. Look it up. Most disgusting shot ever.
91) Broke my wrist playing beerpong
92) Play with David's Bridal online wedding planner despite not being engaged.
93) Pretended to be fatally ill (complete with costume and makeup) to avoid inviting a boy into my messy house.
94) Cream Cheese & Vanilla Ice Cream. It was a low point.
95) "Fixed my shower." .. with packing tape and zip ties.
96) Collected bottle caps. Did nada with them.
97) Am 22 years old and still regularly buy board games.
98) I once had a ghost
99) I named him Bradley. We were tight, yo.
100) I acted so much like a cat that it became a my nickname and the inspiration for this blog.

I know that some of these are super lame but I defy you to make a list of 100 things about yourselves! This shit is hard. Also my life is super shamble-y right now so I'm sure I'll get a good post up soon.


Tuesday, May 15, 2012


1) showering. It is mad hard to hold on to that wine glass when you're drunk. and wet.

2) painting nails. what do you mean this doesn't belong on my face? 

3) Straightening hair. so burned. so so so burned.

4) clothing. i'd rather be naked.


56) choosing perfume. all i smell is sangria.

7) lipstick. go without.

8) time management. I'm supposed to do all of the above in less than 4 hours??

9) Hair brushing. Shit hurts, yo.

10) walking in heels. or walking at all.

11) earrings are tiny knives.

12) moisturizer? in ma eyes.

13) liquid eyeliner.... yeahhhh. no. just no.

14) bronzer. oops now I look like a guido.

15) blush. oops now I look like a guido with rosacea.

16) any hair styling at all. after hours of washing and straightening and pulling and brushing I still walk out looking like Ke$ha after a night of drinking in a hurricane.

..or maybe just normal Ke$ha hair... 

Thursday, May 10, 2012


Let me let you know how this week has been going so far:

Monday: Go to work in morning. Normal stress and life loathing. Mid morning I start having some weird heart palpitations. Got very lightheaded. Convinced myself I was having a heart attack. Start freaking the fuck out. Text Lizz to tell her I'm dying (I had to let her know I wanted a mulitmedia presentation at my funeral... it's the classy thing to do) And then I webMD my symptoms. Usually this means I end up with a proclaimation of cancer or DEATH but this time it said that I was probably having a panic attack. And considering the origin of the disorder I didn't think it was totally unlikely. So I chalk it up to me being a crazy and go back to work. Heart keeps pounding a little crazy but whatevs. Then we get lunch and suddenly I feel completely nauseated.

Look it up. It's nauseated not nauseous.

I feel sicker and sicker and finally tell my boss and leave.

May or may not have vomited on the streets of manhattan.

Spend the rest of the day in bed and not feeling awesome. Definitely not awesome.

Tuesday: Wake up at 5 am in a fevered nightmare involving several of my exes and a bear. I also think there may have been a maze as well. Fall asleep again. Wake up again and vomit and make some eggs and vomit and try to get dressed and then all of a sudden realize that it's 1:30 in the afternoon and I have 3 missed texts from my boss. Pretty much they think I'm dead. Let them know I'm alive and then go back to bed. Several more vomits and a feast with lizz later I head to bed.

Wednesday: Wake up late again with boss's blessing to take day off. Don't vomit and manage to pack up a bunch of stuff for moving. Decided to end my night with pinkberry and Gossip Girl. Oh and vodka. Oops drunk now. Clearly I'm feeling better but I have to admit I still don't feel awesome but I promise myself that this is the last day home. Tomorrow I vow to buck up and hold back my dry heaving and go to work. Despite how much work I have to do at home I need to get back into work before I actually have a stress induced breakdown.

Because weirdly spending time at work keeps me from being stressed about everything I have going on at home.

So that there is that.

This wasn't funny or inspirational or witty but I just wanted to tell you that I haven't been awesome hence why I haven't been around to be awesome via interwebs. And that life has been stressful. Hence the vodka and gossip girl that I needed tonight.

Now time for bed before I miss my alarm again and spend another day on the couch.


Monday, April 30, 2012


This is a... brief... list of skills/knowledge that I've acquired since moving to New York.

1) walking and eating anything. Literally anything. I'm not just talking about your run of the mill pizza on the go or sandwich on the subway. I'm talking about some seriously complicated cusine. Like soup on the sidewalk, froyo on the FDR and nachos... well I can't think of any alliteration for nachos but seriously do you know how hard it is to juggle walking in manhattan and eating nachos?

2) Texting an walking. Now usually I hate this. But only on other people. See... I have developed what can only be described as a bat-like sonar. I can dodge any crowd of drunken Knicks fans and still not misspell debauchery. (a word I often need to use)

3) Being drunk and walking. Are you sensing a theme? You see... in New York you must be a stellar walker.  And being drunk is often a must. So learning to stumble home in 5 inch heels without help and without falling on your ass. Hell you can get get chlamydia from the streets of new york...

4) Fake flowers are a lazy girls best friend. I like the plastic yellow hydrangeas that are in my bathroom. They brighten up the place and add some privacy from nosy neighbors. And I never need to water them. It's win-win-win.

5) Never underestimate the power of a bouncer. Make good friends with bouncers. I have gotten so many awesome things from my security friendships. Everything from getting douchebags thrown out to free shots to that one time that I sent bobby on a wild goose chase to find my glasses. (they were on the bar)

6) One night stands are never as fun as you think they'll be. One week stands are much better.

7) Starbucks gives $0.54 refills for any size iced black coffee or tea. This knowledge is golden.

8) 100 calorie packs don't really count as a diet snack if you eat 3 of them in a row.

9) It always good to have multiple delis nearby. That way when you need your second hangover sandwich & powerade combo you don't have to face the same people twice. Such judgement can be rough the morning after a night of tequilla shots.

10) Never underestimate good friends.

11) Or friends who can drive (moving anyone?)

12)  I have a thing for guys with blue eyes.. (okay technically this has nothing to do with NY but I realized it while I've been here and it's kind of scary how many blue eyed wonders I've fallen for -> Charlie, PBA, Ninja, Main Squeeze, Will, Ken, Dr. C, 3 one night stands and a cop named Damien.... okay a few of those weren't exactly "fallen for" worthy but still. Thats a looooot of blue eyes.)

13) When I start yawning it's time for bed... oh wait.. that's now.

To be continued...


Tuesday, April 10, 2012


As someone who has experienced a range of breakdowns....

(         including, but not limited to:
1) I lost my wallet and someone charged $23 dollars at mcdonalds
2) drunk friend threw up on my suede shoes
3) Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles aren't real 
4) boyfriend emailed his sister about how much he doesn't love me and left his email open on my computer so I read it on my birthday. 
5) dealing 2 years of grief primarily with cheap booze and easy men
6) losing my blackberry. This is remarkably high on the seriousness level. 

...I feel that I have a pretty good handle on them and thus am a perfect person to be the new officially unofficial leading expert on the pros and cons of having a minor to severe nervous breakdown. 

PRO: This is the perfect time to break out all of the overly dramatic phrases you never get to use. 
"I'll never be happy again!" 
"That skirt was the key to my happiness!" 
"You will rue the day that you crossed [insert your full, potentially dramatically enhanced, name] 
CON: People might start hiding the knives 
PRO: You won't ever be expected to slice your own tomatoes again! 
CON: The endless, simultaneous hysterical laughing and crying can get really tiring. 
PRO: No-one will be able to judge you if you run around naked and sobbing 
CON: This may lead to you thinking it is always acceptable to run around naked and sobbing.
"Officer, it's fine. My roommate told me it's totally acceptable to run around naked... I'm having a breakdown!" -ARRESTED- 
PRO: You can lay in bed for hours upon hours and instead of calling you lazy people will probably tell you everything is alright and even bring you snacks and entertainment. 
CON: You might have to sleep without sheets when people remove them for fear of you hanging yourself. 
PRO: Definite potential legal drug use. 
CON: No one will find your witty jokes about how much homework makes you want to kill yourself funny anymore. 
"Someone get the bathtub ready... when I'm done reading this chapter I'll be paper cutting myself to death." 

If you don't get the bathtub joke then... maybe you shouldn't be reading this blog. Clearly you're too normal and adjusted. 

PRO: Sometimes breakdowns lead to important revelations about yourself 
I don't really need a man to be happy.
CON: Which sometimes lead to another breakdown..
which is good because no one will ever love me again... 

If you are in the midst of experiencing a nervous breakdown there are a few tips I have found helpful:

DO -
- wear pants. despite your strongest urges. no one respects an argument made by a pantsless person.
- avoid ice cream. Ben & Jerrys now makes frozen greek yogurt so, while they probably are both just as bad for you, you won't feel like a total fat ass slob after devouring a whole pint. 
- have a stuffed animal. 1) they never talk back or tell you it's all in your head 2) they're huggable and 3) it's hard to stay that upset when you have a soft fluffy thing to soak up your tears.  It's like a pet. Except it always loves you and won't ever pee on your rug. 
- listen to Josh Groban. First you'll be all I CRY ALL OF THE TEARS! And then you'll realize how douchey and ridiculous the music is and you'll be like ROFL, douchebaggery. 
- Eat. You're probably hungry. 
- Bathe. You're probably dirty.
- Call someone you rarely talk to. They'll already be so freaked out that you even called them that they won't think it's that weird that you're having a breakdown. I usually pick my Dad. 
Later when they ask you can say you were drunk and playing blackout truth or dare. 

- listen to the OneRepublic station on pandora. If you didn't want leap off your balcony in a white flowing dress before, you will after. Stick to pop of the 90s, Josh Groban and TLC. And remember than the majority of jumpers end up paralyzed, not dead. 
- listen to, hum or sing any of Matchbox Twenty's "Unwell." 
- say/scream/write "I'M NOT INSANE!!!!" 

Most importantly.. don't do anything stupid. Much like the world mourns dinosaurs and the lost city of Atlantis, your friends, family and people you don't even realize love you would be devastated if you were gone. Family has a genetic inability to stop loving you (lucky!) - Friends have chosen you (wow you must be pretty special) - somebody out there is definitely fantasizing about you (think about how hot you must be and disregard the awkwardness of someone masturbating to you) and, despite how horrible the world can be and how mean people can be, there is definitely at least one person who can't get you off their mind. 

And remember, people don't remember the ordinary. No one says Wow.. I just love how that painting is exactly like every other painting. Weird is Wonderful. Unique is the only way to be. Crazy is the new Cool. 

So go forth. Prosper. Make smiles and laughter and witty jokes about death that people won't take the wrong way. 

Be happy. Stay crazy. 

And get some sleep because 99% of my breakdowns occur after a night of unrest.

I find a nightcap of Everclear and an orgasm to be quite helpful in putting me to sleep. 


p.s. a special thanks goes out to Lizz and NP who have both seen first hand how manic I can be yet still love me. If I can get away with singing a never ending song narrating everything I do and everything I think (from I need to peeeeeee to I want to hang myself up with a rope made of hair)  I'm pretty sure you're in the clear.