I FUCKING HATE BOYS

Okay.
If we have a purely sexual relationship and you ask me to stay the night and I tell you I'll only stay the night if I get more sex and you agree then you are agreeing to a sexful time when you are with me. You are signing the silent contract that says I'm using you, and you're using me but neither of us are ever going to say that...

This does not give you the right to ignore me when we're out.

Because guess what, loser, spending energy on ignoring me when you and all your friends know me (and your friends are talking to me and being so nice) shows more than if you'd stuck your tongue down my throat and dry humped me on the dance floor.

People. Stop fucking ignoring people you slept with to avoid telling people that you slept with them.
Firstly... as stated it's more likely to show off your sexcapade more that skywriting a dick.
Secondly... it's childish. So what, you saw me naked... who hasn't?
Lastly, it's fucking rude. Like... I am damn good in bed and you bust a nut after 10 minutes so if I can be happy with only 10 minutes of dick than you can be happy with a few fucking minutes of conversation.

Ugh. But this story gets worse.

After he goddamn ignores me all night he then throws a fit because he lost at beer pong (how old are we??) and THEN, THEN he asks me what I'm doing.

Well... I'm watching you throw a fit over beerpong you big baby.

Then he asks if he's taking me home. I say yes. Because despite the lack of talking to me and the frustrating attitude I still like sex and I have a high level of sluttiness and a low level of self confidence.

So I leave my drink and potential fun and stuff and get in his car. He spends 5 minutes bitching about the fucking pong game. Then decides to ask me how I'm getting from his house to mine... i.e. he can take me to his house but can't take me home after. (btw he lives literally 4 minutes from me... not exagerating. FOUR MINUTES.)

So after 3 minutes of arguing he takes me home.

To my home that is.

Like... don't drag me out of town with your sourpuss attitude if you aren't even going to give me a good time.

Useless!

And then his goodbye is "Well have a good new year if I don't see you."

So... you aren't planning on seeing me. Awesome.

As I told Shiv earlier... we might be aware that we're using each other but that doesn't mean we want to hear it.

Goddamit. I don't even like this guy. I don't even fucking know him. I'm an idiot. And I just called my ass a cab to go BACK to town. Maybe now I'll find someone worth my time.
Peace.

OOPS. NO WILLPOWER

OH MAN.

SO much to catch you up on.

But lets just talk about last night. And then we'll go back in time in another post.

Anyways. It's been a few months since you heard from me and I'm back home celebrating the holidays and I've realized something.

Boys are just so much easier back home!

Maybe it's me being a brief visitor, only being home 2 of every 52 weeks, or the fact that I probably have quite the easy reputation here but honestly, it's just so much fun.

Anyways. The day I got home this kid I've known for a while starts texting and it goes from "hey how was your flight?" to "ya lookin sexy, come over to my house???" real fast.

And at first i was like SCREEEECH... pump the brakes.

But after a few days of wooing and lots of texting I gave in because... let face it... I have no willpower.
At all.
Ever.

So I went over last night. And at first I was so confused. Because when he said to come over and "watch tv" with him.. I didn't think that he actually meant that. But sure enough we watched two episodes of californication before he even started flirting. But once that second episode was over BOOM.

Sexy time.

It took him two hours to make a move but only 4 minutes to get from couch to bed to naked.

And normally I would be craving a little more effort... a little more set up time... but there was no need. I went over knowing what I wanted to happen and what was probably going to happen so really it worked out for everyone.

Plus skipping to the good part means we missed out all the less than fun stuff in between. Like blowjobs. Sorry guys but if a girl tells you she likes giving head then shes lying.
Or crazy. In which case you should hold on to that gem for as long as you fuckin can.

And to be perfectly frank I got way more than I bargained for. I expected some fumbling, groping and a quickie on the couch but I got quite gloriously laid.

I even stayed the night.

Which is usually a big no-no for me. Unless I like you or I'm stranded I don't want to sleep with you after I... sleep with you...
But it was pretty early, I had my moped and he literally lives 5 minutes from me. But when he asked me to stay I just wanted to. I did tell him that if he expected to stay that he'd have to have another showing in the morning.

He may have taken that a little too seriously... ha I was still half asleep when he rolled me over.
But not too fast buddy! I wasn't quite asleep enough to forget to grab a condom from his night stand (oooh how I love a prepared man)
Anyways last night was fun.
This morning was fun too heehee.

But there is a little kink in my rendevous with... Joey.
You see... Joey knows Marie. My sister. Who also reads this blog (hi Marie!)
The combination of that friendship, his other friendships and how small this town is means that I'm pretty sure Marie (who is living in England right now) will probably know by tomorrow that I'm sleeping with Joey. Which means pretty much everyone else will know too.

Which is fine, whatever. Don't let the sleeping over thing fool you, this is just a winter hookup. I'd love it to be a repeat hook up because I had fun but I'm not looking for a long distance boyfriend anytime soon. And I do plan on leaving this tiny town after new years and going back to my big city life.

It's just... less than ideal for any other winter hookup I might wish to start... or continue haha.

Anyways. I'm off to be at least a little productive.

xxKK

AN ITCH LEFT UNSCRATCHED

So I finally pulled myself out of the pit of despair that was the last post. It took me about 24 hours.

So where have I been since then?
Well I've been off having misadventures.
Crazy too-fun-to-talk-about Misadventures.

...

Okay I lied.
Mostly I've been working.
Working everyday.. including my days off. Yay fun times.

This has resulted in me most often smelling like spilt vodka and sticky lime juice.

mmm.

yummy.

Is it any wonder I haven't been laid in ages?

Speaking of being laid...
So I came home after one of my million days of working and I was quite stressed and wound up so I decided to *ahem* go relieve some tension.
Well that didn't go so great...

I don't know how someone has bad sex with themselves but apparently it is very possible.

So not ideal.

Needless to say stress was not relieved and I was left even more unsatisfied with my life than before. It's bad enough when you cant find anyone else to have sex with you but when you can't even get it done... well that's just sad.

I have a load of stories from work but I'm tired and in a bad mood right now so I think I'll bid you adieu and save you from some unnecessary bitching.

xxKK

SLEEP, SLEEP, SLEEP IT ALL AWAY...

He never showed up.

I knew he wouldn't so I shouldn't be surprised.

But despite knowing that he wasn't going to I still stayed up till 3 am last night doing laundry and dishes and cleaning my house and waxing/shaving/beautifying every inch of my frigging body. I still picked out what I was going to wear and bought condoms.

I guess somewhere in the back of my head I thought that maybe there was still a chance that he'd follow through this time. I guess it's because when I asked him, not 48 hours ago, if he was coming he told me yes. Will told me not to take any extra shifts at work or make plans.

So I sat on my bed all day long waiting.

How pathetic is that?

I haven't eaten, haven't left the house. Haven't done anything. My head hurts and my stomach is grumbling so I think it's best if I just go back to sleep now. The idea of picking out something to eat or seeing people is just so exhausting so I'll just sleep until Monday comes and I'm back at work, too busy to feel so stupid.

Because it's not just that I feel unwanted, unbeautiful and truly stupendeously idiotic. It's that one of my best friends made me feel that way and frankly if that's how my best guy friend makes me feel then really what's the hope of me ever finding anyone ever again....


Pretty slim.


xxKK

ON FEELING LONELY...

Recap: Ninja got married, Charlie is off being happy with his wilderness barbie girlfriend and now Will is blowing me off.

Like... I know that I can be over bearing and paranoid sometimes. 

But this is not one of those times...

The sudden drop off in conversation, the lack of interest and the definite lack of plans all point to him blowing me off.

And that's really not cool because I asked him if he didn't want to come. I asked point blank if he didn't think he was going to make it and if there was a reason he wasn't talking to me. 

AND HE SAID NO. He said No he wasn't "not talking to me" and Yes he was still coming. 

WELL THAT'S SUPPOSEDLY TOMORROW. and I have no idea when his flight gets in, what train he's taking to the city, if he's taking a train, where he wants to meet, when he needs to leave.. NOTHING.

It's tomorrow. 

And I've tried. I've tried to BBM him all day long and he hasn't even bothered to read them. 

So I should take a hint and not bother cleaning up my living room or going over to NP's in the morning to get her to strap me into the super sexy corset I bought. I shouldn't bother washing my hair tonight and I shouldn't have bothered to pick up condoms. 

I just shouldn't ever bother. 

He's blowing me off and that's fine I guess... I with he had taken the out I offered him instead of just disappearing but whatever. 

I just thought that for 8 hours of my only day off in a week that I could maybe feel like someone wanted me. That there was a possibility that anyone would ever want or love me again. But maybe I left that all behind. Maybe it's better to get used to being alone. Maybe I'm not supposed to get married and have a big family and a bushel of pets. Run PTA meetings and drive my kids to soccer practice. Maybe I'm just meant to be... a bartender... who lives alone in the city and drinks to much.

My future is totally awesome. 

xxKK

THIRD TIME'S THE CHARM?..

I guess if it's Main Squeeze we're talking about it's more like the three millionth time. But anyways.

After my depressing reality check about the men in my life I decided to do a little facebook stalking and in my minifeed Senior Squeeze popped up. Haven't really stalked him in a decent 8 months so I had a gander. Last I checked he was still dating and cheating on the girl he cheated on me with so he was a no go.
But lo and behold top of his wall it says "Main Squeeze is now friends with That Girl."

Eh?

How could he have just added her if they've been in a status worthy relationship for a year now?

So I investigate a little bit...

Okay I scrolled through 2 months of wall posts to find out. Don't judge me!

Anyways turns out the day before my 22nd birthday he broke up with That Girl and they haven't spoken since. But then he added her back as a friend last week. No relationship status but who knows with him... is he reeling her back in for round 2? Is it FWB? Is he just trying to be civil?

None of this really matters since he's back home and I'm in the city.

Except that it's almost halloween.
And last halloween he flew to New York and called me.

And then blew me off...

But thats an old story. Anyways. He might come back... and if he's single... and if Will blows me off on Saturday (which I'm 64% sure he's going to) then by Halloween I am REALLY going to need to have some real good sex.

And MS is good at real good sex.

So.... who knows. I might just drop him a line. Remind him of what's in the big apple.

xxKK

WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU LEMONS...

Chop chop chop em up and use em for a vodka garnish.

So Ninja went and got himself married.
Like... ring on her finger, fly off to a honeymoon, till death do us part: married.

And that was - whew - a rough day for me. Even rougher when I saw the album of photos showing him looking so handsome and happy to be with his bride, who picked a gorgeous dress and is the first bride to ever pick beautiful bridesmaids dresses. Everyone looked so freaking happy and I really really wanted to be happy for him.
And I guess I am in a way. Like I am glad that he is happy but I myself am quite possibly devastated.
He was holding on to this little piece of my heart. A little piece that didnt get smashed when Charlie walked away, didn't shatter when Main Squeeze cheated on me, didn't crack when boys stomped all over me. It was this precious little space that was filled with wild hopes and dreams of an outdoor fall wedding and a future with 3 kids, 4 dogs and nights cuddled by the fireplace.

But that's gone now.

It's not like he broke it or smashed it or blew it into a thousand tiny pieces like any other boy has... but when I saw those photos of their outdoor fall wedding and saw all of their future possibilites and of how happy they were... that piece of heart fell out of existence. It slipped out of my body and into the ether of lost dreams.

And it really hurts. This hollow ache - like phantom pains in a lost limb or the way your tummy feels when you're sick but have nothing left to throw up. Empty pains.

But never fear... I know I'm empty right now but eventually someone will come and curl up inside my heart and perfectly fit that giant gap.

It would be easier to see this optimistic view if I wasn't also getting blown off by other men in my life: my pops, the hot guys at work... Will...

You haven't heard a lot about Will thus far. He's actually one of my very best friends in the whole world. He's known me since I was 14 and has seen me through all sorts of ups and downs. We talk constantly and even when we occasionally lose touch we always find our way back.

Did I mention we dated in high school?

(This was between Charlie round 1 and Charlie round 2.)

Anyways... when we dated I was still all messed up and angsty like all teenage girls in Lust/Love and we ended before anything serious serious happened. Except that we've always had a twinge of flirtation. Even when I was with other people... or obsessed with other people. When I was stupid, drunk, fucked up, fucking around, anything and everything. He's always somehow found a way to see me in a beautiful way.

And that's pretty awesome.

So two years ago I decided to act on it and fly from NYC to see him and have a little sex-cation to tie up all those loose ends and to see if there was anything more past curiosity and flirtation. Lo and behold he has a girlfriend, who is pretty much living with him, when I show up.

Needless to day... no sex.

I return to NYC still sexless and depressed. Life continues. We still flirt and talk about what could of been etc etc.

Cut to two years later/now and he's planning a trip to NYC.
well... more of an 8 hour layover actually.

And he wants to make up for lost time...

And I am over joyed because I really need to feel beautiful again and be with someone who really makes me happy like he does.. even if its just for 8 hours.
Suddenly a week before he's scheduled to arrive he stops talking to me. Like... doesn't respond or only responds with a short answer and goes days without saying anything. He's too busy to text...

This from a man who used to exchange semi dirty texts with me while he was working with a client.

Like what's up with that??

I address the issue and he assures me he's still coming to the city but he can't talk right now. So I guess I still need the day off of work but it just feels so weird. Like something changed and nobody told me.
He has a history of doing this too... getting too deep and then suddenly pulling away with no warning. And I guess that guilt or sense of duty to his girlfriend is what makes him such a good man but on the other hand don't tell me something and then never follow through.

Or else I'll just be here again in a few years... sitting alone in my bedroom crying over a wedding I wasn't invited to with no one to comfort me but my beanie baby and a vibrator.

So I guess I'll find out in a few days whether he's planning on following through this time or not....

Night kitties.
xxKK


p.s.... remind me to tell you of the possible return of Main Squeeze... it's not that I enjoy recycling my old boyfriends but I already know how fun they can be and I don't have to train them... I'm too busy to train a new boy.
Plus I like games. And with MS it's always a game... a game of catching him, keeping him and keeping it good ol' fashioned regretless sexy fun times.

THE ADVENTURES OF DEAD MAN DANIELS

There are certain things that are a staple of desire for every little girl. Things that you think you absolutely need to be happy.

Ponies.

Princes. 

Pink Bicycles.

My Size Barbie. 

Littlest Pet Shop.

Giant boxes of teddy grahams. 

These things are scared and special and near to every little princesses heart. You can only hope and dream that one day these things will find you in life. 

You know what's not on that list? 

Stalkers. 

Stalkers are not something that people want in their lives. In fact I believe it is something that most people would prefer to avoid completely. But this Kat just isn't that lucky. 

Meet Dead Man Daniels. 

A man so old that it seems that one sneeze you push him right into the afterlife. A overweight, old as shit, dinosaur of a man.

Who is obsessed with me. 

He comes to my bar every single day and sits and orders Jack Daniels. 

And orders

And orders 

And orders.

I believe the record thus far has been me serving him 19 shots in a day. 

But he doesn't shoot them... oh noooo... he sips on them. 

Shots of Jack Daniels are not sippin' dranks. 

No sir. 

Anyways. At first I thought he was just an eccentric regular. Spent some time talking to him and learning a bit about him. 

Then suddenly he goes from regular to borderline obsessed and then to full throttle stalker.

Phase 1.

He begins coming to the bar in threes. Once at 11am (as soon as we open) Again by 1pm and again around 3pm. 

THRICE. 

Phase 2.

He starts to relocate himself to align with where I am. Like he'll sit at the end of my bar and if I move he'll move with me. Or if I'm on waitressing duty he'll move to a table... even though he's getting the same lonely shot as he was sitting at the bar. 

Phase 3. 

He brings me presents.

Yes presents. On my birthday he overheard me telling my manager that it was my birthday and he left only to return with a book almost as old as himself. 

Later that week he showed up with a bag of food. 

I fuck you not. 

A bag, Of. Food. 

It was 4:45 and he claimed he'd brought me it for lunch. My curiosity hates me so much for turning it away without seeing what was inside first but I was afraid to accept it. 

Phase 4. 

He starts telling me intimate details of his life. His father has a stroke, his mother has emotional issues. He has 5 sisters. He used to fly airplanes in the army. He hates snakes. Things I neither asked to know or even brought up anything even remotely related.  

Phase 5. 

He shows up to work. I try to dissuade our... friendship (?)... by paying him less attention and he asks me if we're in a fight. Literally asks me if we're fighting. So weird. Then two days ago he sits at my table and tells me that his mom says hi. Like his mom would know who I was. Like his mom has heard about me in a way that makes me seem like more than his bartender. Like in a creepy he thinks I'm his girlfriend way. 

Phase 6.

After two weeks of the cold shoulder he is now trying to win me over with money. Of the 65$ I made today 25 came from him because he threw down a  25 dollar tip on top of the $1.50 included grat on his 6 dollar jack daniels. 

Like... thanks? But I still don't want to be your girlfriend. 

Anyways. I'm waiting to see how far this will escalate before I legitimately need to be worried. 

Booyah creepers.

But I thought I should introduce him to this lovely ragtag mix of characters since I'm not having sex (so I can't write about that) my social life is dwindling (so I can't write about that) and the only thing I do is work/deal with Dead Man Daniels and sleep. 

It's sad. 

An 80 something year old crazy is now officially the only one who is interested in me since Will has officially fallen off the face of the earth. 

Oops.. did I forget to mention Will? Stories for tomorrow.. 

xxKK

WOW IT'S STARTING TO LOOK LIKE I HAVE NO LIFE...

...as I post a second day's blog for the second day in a row...

But as I sit here on my couch.. don't judge me, it just happens to be where I like to do my writing... and my TV watching and thinking and netflixing and (occasional) sleeping and...

shut up.

Anyways. As I sit here I realize how I have reached what might be a new low.

When I moved into this apartment I chose to live by myself. I have one bedroom. One bed. One couch. One desk. One bookshelf. One of everything.
Except in the kitchen slash dining room.... There it's like I tricked myself into thinking I had a husband and 6 kids because I have 8 of everything.

8 plates, 8 mugs, 8 bowls, 8 forks, 8 knives, 8 cups, 6 wine glasses (it used to be 8 but after a few too many glasses of vino I may or may not have broken two of them #myB) 8 mixing bowls, 8 place mats, 8 big spoons and 8 little spoons.

That's a lot of eights.

So if we count the big spoon and little spoon families as one big category then I really have 16 spoons in my house.

Not including the various mixing and measuring ones.

So someone please tell me how I am out of spoons and reduced to stirring my delicious, herbal, skin detoxifying, slendering, influenza fighting, sunshine out my ass tea with a plastic spoon.

PLASTIC SPOON.

photographic evidence. 

This is a bad turn of events.
First I lose everything I mentioned earlier and now I lose all my spoons!

What next??
Are the socks going to go on a safari trip and leave my feet alone in the cold?!
VIVA LA SOCK REVOLUTION!!!

...

Too much?

Anyways.. I will leave you (again) with this nugget of wisdom:
The rhythm of life is when you experience your own body, mind and soul.

Alright I stole that from my Yogi teabag.

G'night loves.
xxKK


and if you make fun of my john deere mug I'll run you over with my tractor.

WELL AIN'T LIFE A PEACH.

So the boy I thought I loved is getting married. And the boy who told me he wanted to spend the only 8 hours he had in NY with me is now not talking to me. My boss announced that noone is getting time off work for Christmas, and since I haven't spent time with my home friends or family since last Christmas, that means that come December 25th I'll probably be out of a job. I haven't spoken to Marie in several weeks because I'm always at work and she's got school. This same reasoning is stopping me from talking to pretty much all of my friends. Except for Liz and that's only because she works and lives with me. No escape for her.

So I'm losing my family, friends, love, sexcapade opportunity, job and probably my mind.

So many issues.
So many things going missing.

So I guess I'm just going to continue dosing up on dayquil and eating my weight in teddy grahams until I feel good enough to get on with my life.

xxKK

AND AGAIN.

TWO POSTS???
Whaaaaat?
Crazy.
But true.

So I have a lot of time on my hands because I'm home sick and it's a sunday and I'm bored slash too sick slash tired to do all the cleaning that I promised Liz I would do while she was at work.

Time on hands means more blog for you.

Which is good since I realized I left out a pretty big thing in the last post.
And it's a doozy.

So if you remember Ninja you'll remember that the last time I spoke about him I was head over heels in love with him. Like jump in front of a moving bus, sell my soul to the devil, romeo and juliet in love with him.

God I am pathetic.

Anyways. I let it sit for months and months and I preoccupied myself with meaningless one night stands and an obsession with painting and throwing myself into my new job. Then I decided (a few weeks ago) that I was done sitting and that I was done waiting to know if there was anything there or if I'm just a fucking loony bin who's made it up in my head. So I made a plan to tell him. I was going to just tell him that I thought I still loved him and let him know that I wanted him to be happy and if that meant being with Tori then I will be happy for them. But if there was the slightest possibility that he wasn't happy.. or that he wanted another option then I'd be there.

God I am so stupid...

Anyways that plan was shot down last week when I found out that he's getting married to Tori on the 8th of this month. As in this Saturday coming.

I really am happy for him... I know how much marriage and family means to him so I am happy.

Just also confused. It was only a few months ago that he was complaining to me that he wasn't happy and he wasn't sure if this was the right thing for him. Musing over his lost dreams and what he was giving up for her. Reaching out to me... a person who he hadn't spoken to in months upon months.

I guess I just thought he wanted to reconnect or something. I guess I gave myself false hope. I guess that I just wanted to know that someone wanted me. And not just for an 8 hour layover sexcapade. Not just for one night or old times sake. Not a pity date or a drunken mistake.

I just wanted someone who loved me.

I'm not a home wrecker and I'm not a total bitch so I'm not going to do anything about Ninja except to congratulate him and his new wife the next time I see them. And to do him the favor of keeping away from him and his happiness.

On to happier tales.

So I'm sick (shocker) and I'm sitting on my couch looking at the wreck that is my living room wondering how it got this bad and if it would be totally pathetic to pay someone to clean it up for me...
The answer is yes. And I really don't like people touching my things so I guess that wouldn't really work for me.
But it just seems so overwhelming. Like a giant tornado came through but instead of breaking things it just sort of mixed them up into a random bundle of crap and strew it across my floor.

I wont even go into details about how my bedroom looks...

I work so often and the only days I'm off I either waste catching up on sleep or spend so sick that I can barely order my turkey sandwich at the deli.

YES I GOT ANOTHER TURKEY SANDWICH.
I never said I was proud of myself...

So I will yet again vow that tomorrow will be the day I clean up my house/my life/my act and spend the rest of this day buried in turkey and netflix.

Send me your healing well wishes and good morrow to you all.

xxKK

A TURKEY-TASTIC LIFE

So as I lay here on my couch on my first proper day off in many many days (and by proper I mean I got out of bed before 5pm) I realized that I haven't posted since my oh-so-somber b-day rant.

Truth is a lot has been going on but it's hard for me to write about because I've always tried to keep my life a little separate from the blog. It's not like I want all my friends and family reading about my various drug and sex-capades.

Can we say awkward?

Anyways. I have this awesome job where the people are a mixed bag of awesome, crazy and straight up stupid. Where I lose my shit at least twice a week and come home feeling like a bag of meat pretty much everyday (because I work pretty much every day.) Maybe I should write some of that craziness. I dunno. It is a big bag of drama. And we here at KKC do love some drama.

Aside from work and the lack of a social life I have a few other things jumbling around in my head. Like how the only person who actually wants to have sex with me right now is already involved with someone else.

Ugh and that I can't or shouldn't go into because sometimes he reads this blog. Makes it hard to figure shit out. I mean... I know there's like this whole idea that full disclosure and honesty is good for people but I'd rather crap out without the person I'm figuring out inside my head.

In other news Liz has temporarily moved in with me which has resulted in our house looking more like a frat house (my fault not hers) and a new love of turkey sandwiches. Yes this former vegan and then vegetarian and then vegetarian (with the occasional drunken desire for hotdogs) is now a meat eater. And by meat eater I mean turkey sandwich eater.

A 22 year old meat eater with no foreseeable future career past slinging liquor and serving mini hamburgers.

Go me.

xxKK

BLOW OUT THE CANDLES

Today is my birthday.

Or at least it became my birthday 66 minutes ago.

It's 1:06 in the morning so I'll be going to sleep soon but when I wake up I will be going to work. I will be going to work where I purposefully did not tell them it was my birthday and did not ask for the day off. I will do the same mundane tasks I always do from 10am til 2pm when I'll get my first rush in. Then from 3-4:30 I'll go back to the mundane tasks. Maybe mix myself up an illegal cocktail before I get my 4:30 - 6pm happy hour rush and run my ass off.

This is my job.

And I love it.

I'm a bartender (I do god's work) and I love my regulars and I love my mundane tasks and I take pride in every single dollar I get to take home.  I love what I do so I'll be doing it tomorrow.

Because you know what I don't love?

My birthday.

I don't have a great track record with birthdays. When I was 6 I had a pool party with a funfetti cake (the best fucking cake in the history of all cakes) with funfetti icing (the best fucking icing in the history of all icings) and fake icing crayons on the sides and crayon candles. And the 6 random friends I thought to invite had a good time and someone got me the Berenstain board game and I LOVED the Berenstain Bears. So that was pretty awesome.

But even in all that awesomeness I still managed to throw up in the pool and on my dog.

Ever since then my birthdays have always been filled with hopes that this year will be better than last, this party the most epic, these memories the happiest.

And every time it is not so.

9 days before my 12th birthday a plane crashed into the building my dad was working in. Needless to say we did not celebrate that year. (He was okay in the end but it was a dark and scary time)
On my 16th birthday my boyfriend of a year and a half stopped talking to me and he broke up with me a week later.
On my 17th birthday my mom wasn't feeling well. Less than a month later we found out she had cancer.
9 days before my 18th birthday my mom died.
The day of my 18th birthday my boyfriend flew to new york where he then decided to leave me but then decided against it, choosing instead to just not talk to me all week.
On my 19th birthday I wished he had because I found out he was cheating on me.
On my 20th birthday I wanted to throw a huge bash but realized I didn't have any friends to invite so instead spent the night crying into a glass of vodka.
I celebrated my 21st birthday twice. Once at a bar where the boy I thought was my best friend in the whole world made me feel so judged that I went home early and slept on my couch and at my official birthday party, which only 6 of the 34 people invited showed up to. Oh and where that same "best friend" was such an asshole that I spent an hour crying in my bedroom.

...probably should have taken mugwug out my life long ago...




And now here I am at 22.
Brushing my hair and laying out my things for work tomorrow.

I don't tell you all this to be all woe-is-me. In fact I still love birthdays in theory. I love other peoples birthdays. I love throwing parties and buying gifts and getting gifts and having one day where I'm the special one.

But this year I'm not planning to feel special because if I plan to go out and wear a tiara and be fabulous I'll probably just end up at home with a bowl of popcorn watching greys anatomy reruns.
And that'll mean I spend ANOTHER birthday crying.

So instead I will go to work and do my mundane little tasks and make small talk with my regulars and tease the cook and take pride in every dollar I make and leave at the end of the day content with my life.

But it is still my birthday... so send me some good juju if you get a chance.

:)



In semi-related news the reason you haven't heard from me much lately is because of the job. I get home and am so brain dead and tired that all I can do is sit and eat a sandwich while watching mindless tv.

I love the job but I hate how tired I am after. I don't have the motivation to do anything let alone update the blog.
But I will try.
Because working as a bartender has opened my life up to a whole new hilarious and drama filled cast of characters that really need to be shared with the world.

Goodnight.

xxKK

THOUGHTS ON IRENE

I won't lie. I don't read the news and I don't watch the weather channel and frankly the closest I come to current news is reading the trending topics on twitter.

So imagine my surprise when two days ago my fajah and family are all sorts of freaked out about this chick named Irene coming to New York. They were all like "Oh no! Are you ready for Irene??" And I was all like "Yo.. I don't even know anyone named Irene!" But then after seeing the frantic mobs at the grocery store and the sudden demand for batteries and candles I realized there was a storm coming.

Plus it was a trending topic on twitter.

I looked into it and it turns out that the general consensus on Irene is that she's a bad ass mother fucker who ain't looking to take no prisoners.

So I went to the grocery store and bought a ton of soups and ramen and various non perishables. Then I bought a couple buckets, a fistful of candles and as much redbull as I could carry. Decided that instead of hauling a few heavy cases of water up my stairs with a recovering, but still gimpy, ankle that instead I'd fill up the many empty wine bottles that have been cluttering my counter top.

(I figure with that ingenious recycling and the avoidance of plastic bottles should gain me some points with mother nature.)

So I packed my fridge full of water (wine bottles, brita containers, various tupperwear... you name it, I've filled it with water!) And put aside bathroom water and dishes water and strategically placed my candles and lighters all over the house.

Pretty much I went GI Joe on my house and went into survival crazy girl mode. I spent all night getting ready. I double taped my windows and got all my shit in order.

And then I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And the whole day went by without anything happening. I went for a walk because I was so bored. It wasn't even raining! Since my deli was still open I went and got lunch and gossiped with the neighborhood hoodlums before heading home to dwell in my boredom. It finally started raining but it's not even that bad and it's not windy at all.

I'm going to be super pissed if I got all survivalist bitch for nothing.

Anyways, I'm hoping the storm picks up tomorrow so that I at least feel justified in my preparation and boredom rather than just annoyed. Fingers crossed this storm doesn't do too much damage but double fingers crossed that it starts being more interesting.

Because right now Irene just sucks a big bag of dicks for being such a teasing bitch.

I'm told the power grid is being shut down in the morning, which will suck for technology-using and cable-watching purposes but I'm not worried. I have books to read, paintings to finish and all of my vibrators are battery powered so I know I'll still be having fun sans electricity. (Don't worry I stocked up on batteries)

If the power's still on I'll probably update y'all tomorrow but if not... talk to you after the hurricane!
Be safe and happy.
xxKK

I DONT WANT TO GO INTO DETAILS....

...but MugWug will not be appearing on this blog again. Unfortunately he chose to pursue a course of action that makes being friends with him impossible. We've had issues for a long time but he was always my brother...

...until the day he let me lie on the floor for an hour with a potentially broken ankle.

That was the day he ceased to be my brother. But there was still hope that one day we'd manage to find our friendship again. But today he chose to make an irrevocable error in judgement and he has lost me as a friend forever. He's made it impossible for me to be his friend, family or business partner.

Goodbye MugWug.
It's horrible that you threw away 4 years of friendship but if you can do that to me then I don't want to know you anymore.

xxKK

GIMPY McGIMPSTER

So I went out the other night.

Shocking news, I know. 

But I went out. 

Candi's baby sister was in town so we clearly had to get her wasted. So we went out. And we got wasted and we needed to sing out our little drunken hearts so we went downstairs to sing some karaoke. And while I was up there crooning out a mediocre version of "Use Somebody" some dumbass guy decided to mop the floor. 

Mop the floor so that when I triumphantly pranced off stage in my 6 inch heels I slipped and fell all the way down. 

Oh yes. All the way. As in I was flat on my back.

And I felt a little twinge of pain that progressively got worse but the 9 drinks I'd had helped me numb that pain. Cut to an hour later, two more drinks and a shot of jager and I was teetering my way out the door. Went to Duane Reade, got snacks and trashy magazines, went back outside and made out with a random Irish man (much better looking than Samwise) then walked Candi to 10th ave to get a cab. Then went home.

Cut to the next morning when I wake up and try to get out of bed to get some much needed water and Boom. Blinding pain. 

I find that I am completely unable to bear weight, or any slight amount of pressure, on my right foot without blinding pain. So I, being my crafty little self, manage to use the many piles of crap around my bed to get onto the floor on my knees and I half crawl, half drag myself out of the bedroom. 

Mugwugs in the living room watching TV and I lay on the floor (because it hurts so bad that I literally can't go any further) and start crying and telling him I think I broke my ankle. 

He doesn't even get off the couch.

He looks at me. Lying on the floor in agony and actually laughs. Because he thinks it's so funny. After what felt to be an hour of me lying there I finally realized there was no chance in hell that he was going to get up and help me so I asked him to at least roll me my office chair. Managed to pull myself up into it with a substantial amount of pain and roll myself closer to him. 

He shrugs off my pain and starts watching a marathon of Locked Up Abroad. 

Which isn't even that good of a show. 

And he lets me sit there for 6 hours in agony until Siobhan can get off work and come get me to take me to the hospital. And it's not like he was ignorant of the pain. I can handle a lot of pain.. I have a lot of practice with all the injuries I've had and my fairly chronic joint pain. But I was in pain. I was so in pain that I was willing to go to the doctors. Now I am not someone who likes doctors. In fact I hate them. I would rather stay in bed with a 105 degree temperature than go to a doctor. I'd rather wait three days before going to a hospital to get my fractured wrist looked at. I'd rather take an advil than go see someone about the everyday pain I have. I don't like doctors. I don't like hospitals. I don't like them. 

So when I say that I need to go to the hospital it means it's serious. It means it's bad. It means I feel so horrible that I will put aside my extreme hatred of all things doctorly to get whatever's wrong fixed. 

It means I think I've broken my ankle. 

So I tell him I need to go and I need someone to take me (hint hint) and he doesn't move. Doesn't offer to help. Says he'd put me in a cab and let me go alone. 

Dear MugWug, if I can't get into a cab alone how the hell am I supposed to get out of it and into an ER alone?? Are you really this much of an uncaring fucktard of a human being? 

So I sit there. For six hours. In pain. 

He left to get lunch and gave so much lip when I asked him to pick me up something. I shouldn't be surprised. The boy wouldn't help me and my potentially broken ankle off the floor, why wouldn't he facilitate more pain through starvation? Clearly this is not someone who gives a shit about me. 

So the very wonderful, incredible, awesome, super powered Siobhan got off of work at 4:30 and came over. She helped me out the door, down the stairs, into a cab, out of a cab, into a wheelchair, into the ER and, even though she was cutting into her very sparse free time between her jobs, she sat with me for an hour and a half while the doctors took my stats and felt my leg and she kept my mind on things other than how much my ankle hurt. And even though she had to leave before I got discharged she waited until she knew I was okay, I was going to get crutches and until the last possible second. 

So I got x-rayed and poked and prodded and the doctors asked me all sorts of wonderfully awkward questions and then I got the results. 

No break but a very serious sprain with some torn ligaments. I was told that it was good that I came in since putting any pressure on it for the next 7 days would be detrimental and would stop it from healing properly. So I have to stay off the leg for 7 days. Then gentle and gradual increments of weight can be applied. And they gave me crutches, but anyone who's had crutches will tell you... they are not fun. So when I'm at home I use my office chair to get around. It's got wheels and goes quite speedily along so it's easier. Plus I can carry things in my arms while I roll around.

Pretty much I'm a genius. 

I'm saving the crutches for when I leave the apartment... which I haven't done yet because the stairs are really tricky and my foot is still too swollen to fit into any of my shoes. (except for my bright blue wilderness slippers which Siobahn and NP and vehemently told me they'd disown me if they ever caught me wearing them in public.) 

So I've been home. For 51 hours. And I still had people over for Sunday Family Dinner yesterday (even though it had to be delivery pizza instead of home cooked goodness) which was nice but now it's just me. Me and hours and hours of Grey's Anatomy. 

Oh.. and the asshole who couldn't help me off the floor. 

So it's really fun times. 

Really. Really. Fun times. 

xxKK

TIME TO DISH ABOUT TRYSTS WITH BILLY - aka THE BOY WHO BROKE MY VAGINA

As goes the way of my life and the way of my forgetful, lazy brain I had something to tell you several weeks ago and then I totally forgot/ ceased to be a decent blogger.

I forgot to tell you about Billy the Bartender. 

Now please note that this happened a few weeks before Samwise Gamgee (who, by the way, after refusing to leave my bed, making me give him my number and ringing my doorbell unannounced and insistently like a gentle stalker, has not called me) 

So Billy works with my good friend NP. She doesn't get nearly enough coverage on this blog because frankly she is way more responsible and level headed than the rest of us. She still gets hers but she does it with way less drama. Anywho. Went to visit NP at work and spot this bartender. 

Lets get one thing straight: I love bartenders. 

You can take a decent looking guy and I'll let him by me a drink but stick him behind the bar and I will do all sorts of shameless things to get his attention. I have had my breasts pushed up to my clavicle, spilt drinks in opportune areas, left my number on a napkin... all shameless shameless devices. Because I love bartenders. (Case Study: Main Squeeze. Total douche but I was all about him for quite some time) 

I also love tattoos. 

And men who have muscles. 

And who are cute.

Bonus points if they make me laugh. 

Well Billy has tattoos.

Billy has muscles.

And Billy is cute. Short but cute. 

(and who am I to judge short... I'm barely 5'2" and I need a full sized ladder to hang curtains) 

So clearly I saw him and I set my mark. 

Now usually I try to restrain myself with my friends coworker (sometimes it doesnt work so great but I do try) But with Billy I just went for it. It was the 4th of July so I pushed my boobies up in their american flag tank top and I batted my sparkle covered eyelashes at him and I ooh-ed and ahh-ed over his tattoos. To make a long... looooong wooing story short I ended up getting in a cab with him. 

We live in the same direction so we were going to "split the cab" 

And I was disappointed but hey, I had a vibrator waiting at home. No biggie.

But then he starts kissing me and kissing me good. And his beard is scratchy but not in that annoying Samwise Gamgee sort of way but in a sexy tattooed bartender sort of way. 

So he stops and asks me if I'm going home. 

I take that in and tell him NO. I am not. I am going to his house. 

Take that world! Kitty still has a few lady balls left. Sometimes I feel like all the bits of me that were badass and fun and ballsy fell out of me somewhere between the first class I failed and graduation. But there I was telling this smoking guy that No I was not going home I was going home with him. 

So we get in his house, we fool around. Theres a lot of touching and he's very... attentive. But then I'm like okay... ready for the main event! And he's like

"No." 

so I'm like... 

"No?..." 

"Yeah... my dick doesn't get hard when I'm drunk." 

Just like that. So cavalier. No shame. Just... my dick doesn't get hard. Like it's a totally okay fact. Most men would meet that fact with embarrassment or a sense of failure but this kid just dives back into his other means of satisfaction. Which was nice for a while. 

But then his beard started to really scratch my... more sensitive areas... so I make the executive decision that I'm drunk and have had enough so I'm leaving. 

But no... he wants to cuddle in bed and talk about our lives and where we are and what we want to do and his cats (did I mention the cats? They live under his bed and they smell like poo.) Honestly what is up with these men lately? I'm not prepared for men who have long conversations in bed and want to cuddle and sleep over. 

In the talks he very casually slips in that he's green card married, he wants to move to Aruba with his cats and he sometimes has sex with men. 

Now I'm not judging any of that information but it's a little heavy for a one night stand... And it's a little heavy for naked cuddling chit chat. And it's a little more information then I really wanted to know since... you know... it's.. well... awkward. 

Anyways, he did not feel the same way. He thought it was great that we were sharing our deep dark secrets and it gave him a second wind. 

A second very forceful wind. 

He was still unable to.. you know... but he went at it with other means and I was like okay.. but I'm sort of tired. But he still keeps going and then it gets like... a lot rougher. And I don't know if he's also partially deaf or if he thought my "OW"s were "Ohhhhh"s but I ended up having to fake a very loud orgasm (Sorry Billy's Roommates) to get him to stop. Then, pleased with himself, he asked me to sleep over. 

Okay... 

Or at least it was okay until I woke up the next morning: he seemed to have very little recollection of who I was and was covered in my glitter, I seemed to need to throw up and it was about 10 mins post wake up that I was redressed and excusing myself so I could throw up with grace and dignity in my own apartment. 

Get home, Vom, so much advil and more vomming. But then I realize that while the advil has made my hangover headache go away it has done nothing for the throbbing coming from my lady parts. Then I make the mistake of trying to pee.

So much pain. I didn't know that someone could manually break a vagina until Billy broke my vagina. I literally laid on my couch with an icepack strapped to my crotch for 2 days. I could barely walk and it was very uncomfortable. But hey... in hindsight it was funny. When I picture myself, begging MugWug to go buy me Jamba Juice with an icepack strapped to my vj with ace bandages I have to laugh. It was a pathetic and ridiculous sight. And it was a pathetic and ridiculous night. 

So thank you Billy, for giving me a great story and trying your very best to make me happy but I think what would make me happier is to find a tattooed bartender who wasn't green card married, wasn't moving away in a month, preferably didn't occasionally have sex with men (because I don't like the competition, not because I have an issue with bisexuality.. or any sexuality) and who wanted to wake up to me every morning.. not just the hungover ones. Who wanted to go on dates and get to know me and won't break my vagina. 

And who doesn't have cats. 

One Kat is all a relationship can handle. 

xxKK

INTO THE FIRES OF MORDOR

So as my life goes as soon as I start complaining on the interwebs about how I'm lacking in a particular area of life BOOM interweb jesus decides to fix it for me. Which then makes me look very hypocritical and flaky but whatever. So in my typically ironic life as soon as I'd finished typing about my boring sexless life I got laid.

Me and Shiv were out and it was a fairly quiet night but we were hanging with this Irish boy (very very adorable and cute but I'll let Shiv name him since... well... that comes later in the story)

Anyways we're hanging out with the boy at our favorite late night Karaoke spot, singing a little Britney, drinking a bit of Magners. The usual. And I pop off to the bathroom and come back to a very very cozy looking Shiv and boy.

So I detour to the bar where I am stopped by another Irish man. This one is shorter in both height and attractivity (yes I know that's not a real word) than Shiv's but he's Irish and I'm a sucker for an accent. He asks if he can buy me a drink. Clearly I'd just bought myself one so.. no. Then we talk about my two friends who are now sucking face on the dance floor.

Then I signed out my tab (since it was 4am and the bar was closing) and leave. Shiv and boy come with. As does other Irish man. Lets call him... Sam.

So I say goodnight to Shiv and boy and start to head home before Sam pulls me aside. We kiss a bit and he invites himself home. Now I hadn't had enough to drink to be slutty enough to go without some convincing but when he made it clear he wasn't leaving I was like, eh, what the hell. Might as well.

So I take him home. And the entire three block walk from the bar to my house he complains about how far it is and every third of a block he, quite roughly, pulls me aside and starts to kiss me.

See... usually a little force would be a turn on but like... it was a bit much. And a little annoying. And frankly a little more forceful that I would like. To the point that I started to regret the decision before I'd even gotten him home.

So just as a precaution in case he tried to murder me post sex I texted Siobhan he was a potential killer so she should maybe call the cops if she didn't hear from me in a few hours and told Sam that I had two roommates who would be home at any moment (total lie. only have MugWug and he was in Cali for the weekend) so he better be nice and quiet (and please not kill me)

Anyways I get him into my house and I was sort of expecting something great... like.. he was so freaking pushy on the street I expected him to be controlling and manly and sexy in bed but... no. He was decent but he was not well endowed and not much of anything. Like don't make me think you might be a killer if you cant even get me off.

Okay that sounds bad. Like I might have my priorities a little screwed up. But hey.. I'm just saying follow through!

Anyways the kissing was bad, the sex was meh but everything else was nice. He had the accent and he didn't care that my room looks like a laundry bomb went off in it and he was quite happy to make up for his sexual shortcomings with a little manual labor, which I appreciated. And he was adventurous. Like I haven't ever had sex in my own NY apartment before and with Sam I had sex all over my apartment. I definitely made up for two years of sexless habitats.

You might be wondering where the title of this post comes from. Mordor and sex? Since when are the Lord of the Rings a sexual thing? (Well... when Legolas or Aragon are speaking or on screen it was pretty sexual for me but I have a thing for glorious manlocks and men who fight with swords on horseback.)
Okay.. enough of the side track.
In the middle of my (mediocre) bang I couldn't help but equate my irish lover to a hobbit. He was sweet but short and skinny and irish and seemed a little clueless about what he wanted. But he wasn't as cute as Merry or as funny as Pippin. He definitely wasn't the main event like Frodo so I guess he was like... Sam. Samwise Gamgee.
Sweet but annoying. Not the hottest. Not the ugliest either. Just... Sam.

Anyways, in the morning (and yes he was still here in the morning) we did a little more making out and he gave me some glorious back rubs* but then he like... wouldn't leave. Like at all. He was glued to my side. And I was like.. wow. You really are Samwise Gamgee. What next? Am I going to run away from you in a boat but have to go back because you almost drown trying to swim after me when you can't swim?? Are you going to start stalking me and claim Gandolf told you to watch over me? Am I going to start wanting to hang out with Gollum instead of you?

Like give a girl a break.  I need a little space here, stranger!

No man should ever overstay his welcome and I would have been perfectly happy if he'd left the night before. But he lives in the Shire, I mean, Queens. So that would have been a long trek from Hell's Kitchen so I was fine for him to spend the night. But then get up and leave in the morning. Or get up, have sex again and then leave.

DONT stay in my bed until 2:30pm when I literally have told you I need to go somewhere for an HOUR. Have some dignity man. Pick up those little hairy hobbit balls, that have clearly fallen off, and get out of my bed!

Anyways. Sam was annoying. He made me give him my number before he left so I might have to dodge some phone calls but I doubt he'll make a repeat appearance. Especially since he gave me stubble burn. His stubble was so hard and rough and he kept rubbing his face on mine like a deranged cat so I literally have a rash on my face from him.**

Thanks for the memories, Sam, but I think I'll be jumping into the fires of Mordor before I let you talk me into taking you home again. Oh and thanks for not turning out to be a killer.

Yours,
Kitty.


*which gain him mad points because I can forgive a lot for a good back rub. Back rubs are orgasms for your skin.
** However, skin orgasms are quickly counteracted by skin rashes and stubble burn. So I retake those mad points and give them back to myself. Because I'm awesome and clearly deserve them. Meow.

IN COMPLETELY UNRELATED NEWS...

I just got the most amazing Mac n Cheese delivered to me. I fucking love this city.

CONVERSATIONS WITH THE ENEMY

So a while back PBA missed out on the opportunity of a lifetime...

By which I mean having sex with me.

But c'est la vie. Life goes on. Sexless and boring but it goes on.

Anyways when he blew off in NYC to run around and be boring with other people I decided it was the last  straw. After I realized that for the one millionth time he would NOT be following through on his promises of great sex and days spent in beds with handcuffs and soft sheets and lovely lovely dirty things, after that I decided that it was time to cut off PBA. No more Mr. I-really-would-love-to-see-you-and-do-dirty-things-to-you-but-WHOOPS-too-lazy-or-stupid-or-"busy"- to-actually-see-you-and-do-dirty-things

Sorry. That was an over use of the dash.

But seriously. For YEARS now he and I have been talking and talking and talking and I am tired of talking so I cut him off. No more sexy skype sessions, no more empty promises. No More.

So why did I just spend an hour talking to him on facebook? After months of being wary and careful and staying off of the skype when drunk and horny he pops up on facebook chat.

"hey sexy"

Oh no. Oh no... in two words I went from getting on with my own life to being sucked right back in.

Sucked back into sexy talk and promises of what we're gonna get up to when he stops over in NY on his way to LA. How we're gonna tear it up next summer all sexy and wonderful.

Now before you go and get all "you're an idiot Kitty!" just know that I let him make all the plans. I didn't agree to any of them and I didnt add to any of them. I just didn't say no either... And you don't have to tell me I'm an idiot. I already know.

So now we've had one conversation which could either lead to more... and that might be bad. Or it could lead to no more... which could also be bad because I might get all girly and emotional about him not talking to me.

I hate when that happens.

Anyways. I have been holding on to so many stories to tell you guys because I'm lazy and stupid. But I thought I'd get on and rant a bit about PBA. More stories later. If I can stop being lazy and stupid.

xxKK