LIGHT ME UP LIKE A GLOW STICK, BABY.

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. 

NOT THE CASE.

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.

Yup.

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...

Oops.

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.

Yeah.

That.

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.

xxKK

SCREWING AROUND / HOW THE HELL DID THIS HAPPEN AGAIN?

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.

Ugh.

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.

Huzzah!

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?"

WAY TO KILL THE MOOD DUDE.

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.

WHAT THE FUCK.

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.

xxKK

SETBACKS AND SCREWING AROUND

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.

Jackpot.

Right?

Wrong.

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

xxKK

A TERRIFICALLY TUNA TUESDAY

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.

Anywhoo.

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.

VIVA LA SHAMBLUTION.

xxKK

SO ABOUT HOW I'M HATABLE....

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. 

xxKK

AYE AYE SKIPPER

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.

Wait.

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 ;)

xxKK

ON FUCKING UP A GOOD THING

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.

Right?

Wrong.

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.

Well.

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.

Oops?

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..

xxKK

ON MAKING OUT WITH MITCH

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.
Twice.
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.

Anyways.

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?

ugh.

xxKK

ON MY WORK HUSBAND, JAY

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.

Embarrassed.

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?

WRONG.

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.

Eh.

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

...Jay's boss...

xxKK

ON HOW I'M A BAD BLOGGER... AND OTHER THINGS

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

Oops.

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.

Arg.

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.

Eh.

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.

xxKK