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

WHAT TO EXPECT WHEN YOU'RE EXPECTING (A BREAKDOWN)

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. 

DONT - 

- 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. 

xxKK 

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.