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

NOTHING SAYS YUMMY LIKE CANDI (WITH AN I)

So if you follow the twatter I have you may have noticed the introduction of Candi. with an i.

This chick is a southern belle with a heart of gold and a liver of steel. She can go shot to shot with any cowboy and is always down to dance on a bar or cause some ruckus.
Boys beware because she will destroy you.
She's pretty much hilarious.
I just wanted to let you know about her because generally whenever I have a ruckus night filled with drunk jenga, stripper poles, sex dice and copious amounts of liquor she will be there.

Usually egging me on and surreptitiously refilling my glass with something stronger.

Y'all will love her as much as I do, I promise.

A NEW COMPUTER AND AN OPPORTUNITY MISSED

So I've been MIA for a while.

This is less than shocking since I am not the most reliable updater.

But I have a decentish excuse this time.

My computer was pretty old... like 5 years. And If I think about how much wear and tear my poor little body has endured in the last 5 years and how it's a miracle that I'm not broken at this point then it makes sense that my poor little computer protected by nothing but a cracked plastic case finally met it's end.

At the end of it's life it had one working usb port (the other was packed in with bits of crap from my purse) it wouldn't charge, it had a battery life of 25 minutes, the case was cracked all over, the screen was about to pop off, all the keys are sticky and I was missing the 5 button.

Which is my second favorite number.

So it was a big deal. And it was a total pain in the ass to use. It crashed every time I opened a word document and opening a webpage made it run so slowly that I could have grown myself a fine beard in the time it took me to post a blog.

BUT

I hauled my ass to the istore and after aimlessly wandering around lost in the glimmer and glare of fancy electronics finally a kind man from the genius bar plucked me out of the crowd and in 20 minutes we'd picked my computer, software, protection plans and I had skipped the line to check out.

Of course Apple is the devil and doesn't accept like 99% of credit cards so I then spent 40 extra minutes juggling calls from my dad and the card company before I could actually make the purchase. But I walked away with a shiny new macbook pro that isn't cracked or slow or a total pain in the ass.

It's awesome.

And beautiful.

And I loaf it.

So hopefully because I love to play with it I'll be able to update y'all more consistently. Because my life is just sooooo interesting.

In side news, no, I never heard from PBA and I'm working my ass off to make sure I don't get wasted and skype him like usual. Because that leads to more promises of carnal bliss and more disappointment. But he can't get under our skin too much because I have a new project. A boy project. Tell you more later but for now I'm going to go back to watching SVU and vegging on the couch. The gym regime starts again tomorrow.

Ha.

xxKK

SEEKING: CASUAL STRESS RELIEF SEX

So I slipped in that PBA was coming to town a few posts back.

Well he gets here today.

So PBA is the man who has a reputation for suggesting sex and then failing to follow through. And I had totally sworn him off for good but as always he's found a way to waltz back into my life...
...it usually occurs when I'm drunk and horny and have access to Skype... might be time to set a new drunk-proof password.

Anyways so we've been sometimes talking lately and the other day we were just talking about mundane things and he slips in that he's coming to NYC on business next week (which is now this week) and that we should meet up and have some casual stress relief sex.

Just that like that.

Slips it in between his flight plans and what he had for lunch.

Just  a little casual stress relief sex. No big deal.

So I'm like... okay. Sure. And I start to think about how it wouldn't be so bad to have a little quality human interaction this week. Even if he has been a D-bag in the past.

So after we agree that at some point we're going to meet up and have sex suddenly he starts pulling those promises back in again... The excuses start pouring out of his mouth.

"But I do have to go to Boston one of those days so it's not like I can be there every day..."
"I have to see my business partner too you know, I'm not just free all the time"
"This is a business trip not a social one"
"I'd like to actually see New York as well you know"

I'm like... slow the fuck down. I'm not some rapist who carries around sheets pre-moistened with chloroform to knock out her victims and take advantage of them. I'm not going to chain you down and refuse to let you leave. In fact I'm not even going to call you. Because past experience has shown me that you're the kind of man who wants what he can't have and as soon as I'm all "omg I want you!" you're gonna be like "meh no thanks"

Don't bring up sex and then immediately back pedal. I don't need your excuses, I don't need your dick (though it would be nice) and I don't need you to look out for my feelings. I get that you don't want to sleep over and make me breakfast and be my boyfriend.

Newsflash: I never wanted that from you either.

So while I still do hope that I'm getting laid this week I will be completely unfazed and unshocked if PBA decides to crawl into a hole and not bother calling me. He may think that it makes him sexy to be so unavailable but it's really just annoying. And he may think he has the power in this relationship but hey... if he's a disappointment then I'll just throw on my Fuck-Me dress and go to a bar and find  a real man to make me happy.

Sorry PBA, I'd love to play but you are not the be-all or end-all. There are plenty of people on sexcations looking for some sexcapades with a girl like me. So enjoy your business... Maybe I'll hear from you, maybe I won't. Either way I'm still going to have an awesome week.

xxKK

THE PLOT IS HATCHED

So let me tell you a little something about MugWug...

For  man who completely objectifies women (while hiding behind his holier-than-thou Jesus loving bullshit religion crap) he does not understand that women are not just there to be used but also have needs.

Sexual needs.

As in, orgasms.

Yes, I am saying that people NEED orgasms in their lives.

And just because I haven't had sex in a *ahem* loooooong time doesn't mean I'm not fully making my quota. I do not discriminate between the orgasm a man can give me and an orgasm gained through electric means.

Or in my case... battery powered.

Meet Senior Margarita.

He's my vibrator. He's pretty amazing. He never leaves the seat up or asks me to pay for dinner. He never forgets to return my phone calls yet he's never overbearing or needy. He doesn't snore or roll onto me in the middle of the night. He never forgets to clean up after himself and he only cares about what I want...

So pretty much he's better than any man.

MugWug is extremely uncomfortable with the idea of a woman having sex with the sole goal being an orgasm (he believes that is just for men... women should be sweet and innocent and want love and babies) So the idea of a woman buying hardware to please herself is just such a foreign idea...

It freaks him the fuck out.

He can talk for hours about how gross it is or how immoral or how, whatever negative word you want to pick, it is.

So when I told him that I recently acquired a battery powered love device he had a conniption fit and started to gag.

So tonight when he gets home from his lady friends house (lady friend being the girl he's wanted to have sex with since freshman year, not his actual girlfriend [and yes he has a girlfriend]) I plan on getting Senior Margarita out and totally going at it.

Now I doubt he'll be able to tell since I have my own room with a permanently locked door and Senior Margarita is extremely quiet and discrete but it will be happening regardless and the emotional toll it will take on him when one day I slip into conversation that I've been getting off 20 feet away from where he sleeps while he's been home with a rubber battery powered cock... well that will just be so rewarding.

I'm really not even sure what well get me off faster tonight... Senior Margarita or the taste of revenge.

Never cross Kitty... she has sharp claws.

Sorry MugWug... maybe if you were a smidge [read: at all] respectful to me or a semi decent roommate I wouldn't be plotting such cruel and graphic revenge.

Uh oh...I hear the front door opening. Time to get out the spare batteries.

xxKK

KITTY IS SAD/FRUSTRATED/PISSED THE FUCK OFF

And it's probably mostly my own fault.

I take on too many things sometimes.
I inflict myself with so much stress that it's a surprise that my blood pressure isn't higher (but it is already pretty high)

MugWug continues to reek havoc on my life.

Like yesterday when I left for the gym and told him I'd be back in an hour and a half and when I got back, an hour and a half later, he had decided to JUST get into the shower. Where he stayed for 40 minutes.

First of all, I don't take 40 minute showers and I have long hair to my ass.
Secondly, he's a gross boy creature... how can he care THAT much about getting clean
and Most Importantly... I NEEDED A SHOWER AFTER THE GYM. YOU KNOW I'M COMING HOME. It's not like I surprised you... I gave you a concrete timeline...

It's just frustrating.

And then today he drops the news on me that he hates all of my other friends (which is funny since a) he doesn't know most of my friends because he refuses to hang out with them and b) he's tried to get in the pants of 90% of the friends he has met)

And his friend hates me.

And that makes me seriously questions how much friend is left in our friendship. If we pick our friends because we have something in common with them/we relate to them/ we have fun with them then what does it say that he hates the people I choose to surround myself with?

It means he can't really like me all that much either...

And I've only met the friend who "hates me" twice before so if he has a negative impression of me it has to come from what MugWug has been saying...

Makes me really wonder about how my new roomie really feels about me.

In other news unrelated to MugWug but related to my misery my internet and cable have been out for 36 hours now which means that not only can I not distract myself with bad reality TV or Xbox Live but I have to travel to Starbucks (where I get hit on by the only man in the world who seems to want me - the creepy barrista) or all the way downtown to my school... even though I'm graduated.

Which is where I am now. It's 9:30pm and I'm sitting in the lobby of my ex-university alone in Summer. My life has reached an all time low. But I've been here working since 4pm so I think it might be time to pack it in and go home.... even if my roommate is there waiting....

So before the building guards start audibly judging me I'm going to go... I'll have to update you on PBA and Ninja another time.

xxKK

WARNING: DOES NOT PLAY WELL WITH OTHERS

So you all know MugWug under one fairly generic title: Best Friend.

Well he's about to get a new one... "Roommate"

Yeah... he moved in with me...

Now before anyone jumps to any conclusions, no, it's nothing past roommates. He sleeps in a nook in the living room and I lock my door every night. (Out of habit not because I'm worried he's going to break in and read my diary or anything scandalous)
He's only planning on staying a month or so and I do love hosting people. I am such a Mama Kat sometimes.

But here's the catch: despite loving to host and my inexplicable (and apparently unconditional) love for the kid, I DO NOT PLAY WELL WITH OTHERS.

As in I like my space and routine and order.

Rearranging the living room to make room for his nook was emotionally scarring for me since I don't like change.

Here's an example of how neurotic I am about change... I will refuse to walk down a street, even if the sign says walk and that's the fastest route, if it isn't one of the two streets I use to get to the subway. And there are certain streets I'll only walk west on. And I always catch the subway car that stops in front of the broken telephone at 49th Street. And I arrange my couch cushions, not in an aestically pleasing pattern or format, but by color. I don't like trying new food. I will literally be reduced to tears of frustration if faced with a menu that doesn't contain something that I know I like.

I'm not very good at decisions so it's easier for me to just cut out the options.

Well... that being said... he moved in and now everything has changed.

He switches the shower from handheld to stationary every time he uses it (I'm short and the hand held is lower and has better water pressure) He uses an electric toothbrush which means there's this machine contraption on the sink, which is so not the neat empty way I like my sink. AND he refuses to hang his towel on the hook on the door, choosing instead to drape it over the shower, which doesn't even make logical sense since it dries quicker on the hook and it means I don't have to move it every time I want to shower.

AND THAT'S JUST THE BATHROOM.

Needless to say I have a lot to get used to and it's very jarring.

Tomorrow we're putting up a curtain around his nook so that at least the change and mess and differences from my real life and now can be contained and somewhat hidden.

I have to admit that sometimes it's nice to have him around. Tonight we had a nice little roommate moment in the kitchen. We made snacks and talked.

I feel like he and I stopped really talking to each other a long time ago so maybe this move is what our friendship needs to continue past college.

That, or it'll completely destroy it.

Meanwhile I'm going to use all this awkward nervous energy I have from having my schedule/routine change so drastically towards getting up early and hitting the gym every morning. Hopefully my legs won't fall off before I run out the uncomfortable feelings.

Regardless I'm going to need a few drugs to get through the next month.

I'm sleepy and have work to do so I'll sign off but I still have to update y'all on PBA and Ninja so don't let me forget. And hey, look at that, two posts in two nights. Maybe there's hope for this blog after all.

xxKK

HOLY FUCK IT'S JUNE...

And it's fucking hot.

I don't know where the rest of you kids are but I'm in the big apple and it's mother fucking melting over here.

I can't believe it's June already. So much has happened and I havent had a single moment to sit down and compose it into one cohesive train of thought.

School is done. I graduated. No more homework or 8am lectures. Which is nice. But also sad.

Working on becoming a US citizen now.

Been getting into the usual drunken trouble.

Fleetweek just passed which was supposed to bring the glory of many a good lay but unfortunately Mama Nature has been after me ever since I accidentally murdered all of the lillies in my neighbors yard (I was 9) so I had an unwelcome guest in the form of my freaking period during the majority of Fleetweek. I still went out and winged for my girlies NP and shiv but it was sad not to hook a sailor.  On the last night I was finally finished surfing the red sea and I nabbed the hottest little seafarer at a dark bar. After beerpong and ass grabbing I was sure we were headed to my apartment (conveniently located a block from his ship) but thats about the time the excuses started pouring out of his mouth. He couldn't leave the bar, he only had 40 minutes left, the other marines might worry. Clearly his only solution was to propose bathroom sex.

Excuse me?

Bathroom sex?

No.

I am not a five buck fuck in the back of a strip club.

When he wouldn't let go of this idea I mentioned that we didn't have the proper equipment (read: condoms) but instead of leaving the bar to go to my house where I have a stockpile of 9 (don't judge me, I'm just prepared) he decided to go to Duane Reade and buy a pack to bring back for bathroom sex. Despite the fact that the time he would spend in line would take three times as long as walking to my house.

Anyways.... Mikey the sailor was hot but as soon as he left me at the bar to buy condoms I downed my drink and left.

Dear Mike, if you read this, you are a smoking hott catch of a man and I'm sure that your tragic flaw is that you are painfully aware of this fact. Despite you being hott and me being ridiculously in need for a good bang I do have standards and they include not fucking where people regularly piss. Yours, Kitty.

That pretty much sums up all of my Fleet week adventures. In the middle I hosted some crazy boys who thought that by causing my many grey hairs and making so much noise that my neighbors now cut their eyes at me when I walk by makes them bad ass. They played basketball inside my house, did "parkour" (i.e. they jumped on shit) in Times Square and fell asleep at a bar while going beer to beer with me and NP. According to the rumor mill I had sex with one of these over sized children but that's been put to rest. When someone accused me of denying the truth I pointed out that I would be very happy to get laid but I don't like taking credit for things I haven't done.

My mama raised me better than that.

Anyways... that catches you up on the last few weeks. Everything else is less interesting and frankly I'm too tired to keep typing.

Things to address in the next post:
- PBA coming to town next week... wants "casual stress relief sex"
- Ninja still playing with my heartstrings and I'm playing with the idea of telling him I still love him
- MugWug moved in with me. I don't like to share and I don't play well with others so this is quite a stressful bit of news.
I'd go on but it's late and I already set my alarm for 8am so I need to get in a catnap.

Love to you all.
xx KK

NUNCHUK TO THE HEART

So ever since he roundhouse kicked his way back into my heart Ninja has been a ball of confusion.  We talked for two days straight for hours on end. We talked about what we've been up to, how scary/exciting graduation will be, what we're planning on doing after said graduation, his upcoming wedding to Tori, their potential offspring, whether we should have to give up our dreams for the people who are important to us. And then I grew some lady balls (but only because Siobhan made me) and I asked him why he had contacted me.

The answer was thoroughly underwhelming... He just noticed I was missing from his facebook and wanted to know why.

That's it.

No ground breaking love story. No desire to see what I was up to and if he still had a chance.  Just a random encounter and god given curiosity.

MugWug was right... Ninja doesn't still love me he's just a decent human being who was being nice.

But that doesn't stop me from dreaming. You see he never actually said that he loves his bride to be. He said that choosing between her and his dreams was extremely difficult because since she had been in his life so long she had become important to him. They've been together for almost 8 years and he can't say that he chose her because he loves her? I mean... he was willing to leave her for me after 4 years with her and 4 days with me. He told me he loved me before we'd ever even kissed.

This is a bad bad road I'm going down.

Mina and Coley, who have never been mentioned because we don't get into very much trouble together but who do know me well and spend far too much time with me, are happily plotting my breaking up of his engagement. They're convinced I should be actively pursuing him despite the ring he put on Tori. And boy am I tempted. But I'm not.

Partly because I want him to choose me without prompting. I don't want to break them up I just want to be there when they do break up....

I want him to be happy. Don't get me wrong.  I love him, still.. four years later I know I love him, but I love him so much that I want him to be happy even if it's not with me.  So, yes, I want him to leave her for me. But more importantly I want him to leave her because he doesn't seem to be happy... And if I'm wrong... if he really really is happy with her then I wish him all the best and I'll quietly dream of an alternative world where he says "I don't" and comes back to me.

Ugh let me stop thinking about this and go do some real work. The kind of work that is giving me a 24-7 headache and stealing all my sleeping time away from me.

xxKK

THE NINJA THAT SNUCK UP AND STOLE MY HEART

So someone just walked back into my life.  Someone who used to be really really important to me.

Let's call him Ninja.

Now to be clear, when I say he's walked back into my life I mean he sent me a facebook message to reconnect or whatever.  And usually I'm all for reconnection and making friends but we have a...complicated...past.

Back in high school after Charlie and I broke up (oh my poor 16 year old heart) some really harsh words were exchanged and I felt like crap for a long time.  Ninja was one of my friends at the time.  We had spanish, english and homeroom together. We weren't all that close, just playful teasing and running in the same groups.  But after the break up I was pretty distraught and it brought us closer together because he was the only boy I knew who didn't know Charlie and could give me an unbiased mans opinion on the situation.

Anyways through the bonding over how awful my ex was being we started to talk about how unhappy he was with his relationship too. And our playful teasing suddenly turned into something.

Something wonderful.

I found in him the man I wanted. I found solace in a man who made me feel special and beautiful and loved.

Charlie came back into my life around then and things actually got worse... so I was driven even closer to my Ninja.

I loved him.

Like... a lot.  But Charlie was telling me about how I was such a slut for having another boyfriend (not ninja) when I was broken up with him so logically I felt I should get back together with him and make it up to him....

Because that makes sense...

Anyways I got back together with Charlie and Ninja was really upset and he asked me to leave Charlie and he would leave his girlfriend of 4 years and we could be together.  Which is the most romantic thing anyone has ever asked of me to this day.  I said I needed to think about it and he gave me 24 hours.  In which he broke up with his girlfriend (who never knew about him and I but still hates me now...go figure) and I decided to stay with Charlie.

Bad decision.
Worst mistake.
Biggest regret.
Ever.

He got upset, got back with his girlfriend and we graduated high school with drama between us and not talking.

The next year I was at college in NYC and he was on Long Island and we started talking.  Talking three hours a night, every night, for months.  I rarely slept.  Then we made plans to meet up and right before I was going to get on a train to go see him he told me not to. Because he was still with the girl from high school and I was still with Charlie and it would be wrong because we weren't just friends. We still had all that love between us.

Conversations came to a halt.

Add 8 months, repeat. We talked, he had moved from LI so there was no meet up options but we still talked a lot. Then it stopped again because it was unfair to our significant others.

Cut to 6 months later, I have that horrible scarring breaking up with Charlie in November and run into Ninja in December. We hang out all night and then it's just... awkward because I still love him. And he still doesn't seem happy with his lady and there's just nothing to say. So we part and other than the occasional accidental run in we never speak.

Then he proposed to his girlfriend which sent me to the bar for three days. Because I still love him. And it's pathetic.
When I go to stalk the shit out of him and his engagement I realize he's blocked me on facebook.  So to stop me from continuing to check on his page every day to see if I've been un-blocked I delete him from my friends list.

Cut to 12 months later (now) and all of our friends are taking bets on how long the marriage will last and I'm trying to be civil to his fiance who hates me when I see her, but she still wants to rip out my eyeballs. And then out of nowhere he messages me. "Hey - I see I've been deleted, por que? Hope you're doing well"

....

Por Que? Porque you gettin' married to a lady who hates me and won't let you talk to me, who probably told you to block me on facebook and who would rip my hair, which happens to be one of my best physical features, out of my head with her teeth if she found out he messaged me.

And while I miss him as a friend there's no possible way we can BE FRIENDS.

BECAUSE I LOVE HIM.

And I realize it's been 4 years now since we had our small affair, if you will, but I honestly still feel like an idiot for letting him go and I honestly think I still love him and could make it work with him.  We just fit each other really well and I was always the best version of myself with him. And I miss him.  A lot.

So I sent him a message back because I'm clearly not the kind of girl who would ignore a message that was probably meant as an olive branch of friendship (I'm more the type that stares at the olive branch message for three hours and freaks out about it before responding with a detached noncommital "im totally over you but maybe not" sort of message) and now I'm literally not going to sleep until I get a response. Because I definitely left the ending on a happy-ish "I'm totally willing to talk to you" sort of thing.  Because I'm hoping he noticed I was missing from his friend list because he went looking for me because he misses me and wants to be friends again... and i dunno... all that implies with us. And not because I came up in his "people you might know" group...

I am way over thinking this.

But that's what you do when you love someone and care about what they think of you.

Anyways I thought I should tell you the story of Ninja since he's probably going to make multiple appearances on here and my tweets.

It's late so I'm going to go...make coffee so I can stay up an wait for his response.

Not like I'm sad and desperate or anything...

God I hope he's emailing me to tell me he called off the wedding and he wants to be with me....



Don't judge me for saying that.  I'm just being honest.

But don't get me wrong... I'd rather him be happy than with me. I'd love for him to be happy with me.  But if being with her, if being her husband makes Ninja happy then I will send him all the good juju I muster and keep back my regrets and bitterness over love lost.  Because I love him and I want him to be happy. No matter what.

xxKK

WHILE THE KAT IS AWAY THE MICE WILL PLAY...

So about 2 months ago I came home one fateful night and when I walked into my bedroom something small and dark dashed across the wall and under my bed.
Naturally I thought it was a roach because I fucking hate roaches and they always seem to find me.
So I bombed my house, sprayed a shit ton of baygon and nearly asphyxiated myself.

I also slept on my couch for the next three weeks. Partially to avoid complete asphyxiation and partly because I'm a big ass chicken who has a history of sleeping on my couch to avoid bedroom inhabitants and/or messes.

But then one morning I was sleeping on the couch and the motherfucking mouse ran across my floor.

So I went back to sleeping in my bedroom.

The next time I saw the mouse (at 2 am) I engaged in all out warfare for an hour and a half until I had it trapped in a tiny corner by the door. Opened the door and whoosh, swept it outside. I saw it scrabble around on the landing before hauling ass down the stairs.

Cut to two months later: I'm sitting on my couch, feeling pleased as punch, watching a little My So-Called Life and then I hear it.

Scrabble. Scrabble. Scratch. Scratch. Squeek.

I fuck you not.  There was a squeek.

And you'll never guess where it came from.

The motherfucking oven.

Yes. Mouse in the mother fucking oven.

So then I'm like wtf? And then I'm like Imma roast the motherfucker. And then, after a little google research, I realized how bad of an idea that was so I just started making noise to scare it.  On and off it scrabbled and scratched and squeeked.

I mean, I left traps, dropped poison, installed 5 of those little sonic things and still it scrabbled on.

Then... nothing. No noises for a few days. I finally started using my stovetop again.

And now I can't be sure if it's the 4:46 on the clock or an actual sighting but I'm pretty sure I just saw another furry run out in the corner of my eye.

Well I'm heading out of manhattan for some debauchery with Miranda Bellevue (she likes fun) and I'm hoping that while I'm way the mouses will decide this house is not for them and I will come home to a furry free residence.

I'm also hoping that while I'm away Miranda and my two new favorite boys, Sebastiano and Juliano, will keep my mind off the mice with copious amounts of alcohol, installation wrecking, trespassing, glitterati* and fetus cakes for breakfast.

If that sounds wrong just wait till I blog about what actually goes down this weekend :P crazy times. Last time was too R rated for even this humble blog.

Anyways, I'm off to get a power nap in before school.

xxKK

*glitterati - an amateur (i.e. with yo friends) photo shoot consisting of ridiculous faces, costumes and, obviously, glitter. Also a term for the trio of Miranda, Juiliano & Sebastiano.

SICK KITTEH

Finally, a moment to sit and contemplate life and write.

If only this moment didn't have to come at the expense of my immune system.

My immune system saw how helpful and productive the rest of my body was being with the working and the gyming and the general being awesome at life so it decided it could take the week off.

Now I'm a little freak of nature who gets sick quite often and whose resting body temperature is somewhere around 95°.  Which, as you little genuises have probably already figured out, is about 3 degrees lower than you.  What's three degrees though, right? Well consider the difference you feel between your normal 98.6° and the oh so sick feeling of 101°... well that's only two and a half degrees. Anyways, if I hit 99° on any given day I'm already feeling pretty crappy but this weekend my immune system didn't just take a day trip to the cape but went on a full blown leave of absence.

I hit 102°, which is like 105° for you normal people.

So needless to say I wasn't gyming or working or doing anything at all.  In fact I couldn't even play video games because I couldn't concentrate on the moving pictures... and I couldn't stay awake for more than an hour.

Anyways. Thats about all you need to know about my sickness. Unless you want the gross details.  But I don't feel like sharing those just now.

Well since I spent 48 hours in bed doing nothing I don't have a lot to report on.  My life is pretty boring right now.  Not much change from before. Busy busy bee.

Fuck now I'm tired... back to sleep. When I get back from yet another nap remind me to tell y'all about my fucking mouse problem.

HOLY SHIT IT'S BEEN 2 MONTHS!

Holy shit!
How is it possible that two whole months have gone by without a blog posting?! Especially when that last post centered around public peeing.

Well I can actually answer that...

You see, when you spend your days in a whirlwind of get up, do makeup, make coffee, get to class, be productive, listen, take notes, go home, do homework, play xbox, try to work on the movie, try to finish writing my movie, get to sleep, actually sleep and wake up and do it again, it's pretty hard to then find time or motivation to log on and write some more.

And recently I've added go to the gym between take notes and go home and xbox is now xbox kinect so I'm fucking tired by the end of my day.

But don't get me wrong, despite the work and the ever-nagging presence of writing in my daily deeds I could still talk about myself for hours.  So really I need to somehow find time to fit this in so my poor friends can stop listening to me bitch all the time. 

Not that anyone but my friends read this blog but at least this way I can get it out in one posting and be done with the issue... yah... that'll totally work.

Well let me catch you up a bit.

School and work have me so stressed that I have a minor panic attack when my blackberry dies because I fear being out of contact during crucial moments (you don't want to see me when I think I've lost it)
Graduation is quickly descending upon me like a dark cloud of doom that threatens poverty and deportation.
MugWug and I are fighting. Well, fighting is the wrong word to use... we just don't talk. So we can't really fight if there's no talking.  Part of me wants to slap myself and say look at all the past drama, haven't you learned anything? It's probably not a big deal at all. And part of me thinks that going 17 days without talking to or seeing your 'best friend' isn't normal and there is something decidedly big dealish about it.
I desperately need a massage because of the tension knot growing in my neck.
I need some therapy because vodka and shoe shopping isn't cutting it anymore.
I probably need a doctor for my face tumor (more on that in a later post)
And I need a fucking facial because working out everyday has been clogging up my pores no matter how hard I exfoliate afterwards.
Oh and I need a tan because I look like a ghost.

"Men?", you ask.

Well... No.

No men. Which means no sex which means I definitely need that massage and gym time because I ain't getting no tension relief anywhere else...

I've got a flight in the morning so I bid you all adieu but I will try to fit 'write on KKC' somewhere into that schedule.  I'm sure it'll cut into my sleep time but I'm not very good at sleeping so it's pretty much a lost cause anyways.

Love you all.

xxKK