BIGGER CITY BUT SMALLER CIRCLE?

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.

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

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.