Buy Me Stuff!!

Today is my birthday. I remain 20-something, but think I will begin telling people that I'm 19, you know, for fun. I went to PA to see my friend AC this weekend. He was singing in a wedding and needed a plus one to enjoy the extravagant open bar with. We also took it as an opportunity to finally record my Voice Over Demo, since he has a recording studio down there. All in all we had a pretty great time. It was so liberating to be out of the city. I never realize it until I'm away how much I love to ride in cars on winding, tree-lined roads, and what a sense of independence it gives me.

AC gave me my best birthday present so far (disclaimer: most practical gift that I'm terribly grateful for was the money my parents and grandmother sent me that will allow me to pay my bills). AC wrote me a song. He recorded it in his studio and it sounds fantastic. The tag line was born one night after smoking a bit and my reminiscing on this boy. GW and I had one magical night. GW and I hooked up when I was at a serious low-point, 2 weeks post devastating T-break-up. His shocking good looks coupled with interest in me gave me a new lease on life. AC's song is called 'Magical Night.' It made me laugh so hard I couldn't breathe.

The wedding ceremony was long (boring priest), but the reception was great, the food was fantastic and we danced the night away. This morning we drove up to NY and I'm at the weekend job. I got a birthday call from my brother and his kids attempted to sing happy birthday into the phone. It was half adorable, half annoying, as the kids usually are. My brother just found out he's being deployed to Iraq. He's in the Navy. He's an officer. He will be gone around 9 months. I am terrified. Ironically enough, my birthday present from my Aunt and Uncle was a t-shirt with President GW's face and the text: Worst. Ever.

Exactly.

love

I'm off to PA for a wedding this weekend.

Residual

Well, today I had the office to myself for half the day, and I got a lot of work done while playing with my boss' adorable dogs. They are Yorkies, and one is a brand new puppy; she weighs 1 lb. 3 oz. and likes to bite on fingers. After work I met JH, (whom I hadn't seen in far too long) and we had some alone time and it was great. It was great, except for teh moment when I found out from him that E is in the play I had the whole 'huge oversight' fiasco about.

For whatever reason that has thrown me into a deep melancholy and I can't figure it out. I certainly don't want to be in what I think will be a hellish 'showcase' production of Shakespeare acting scenes. Even if I did, E and I would not be considered for the same role. So, why am I suddenly despondent over this news?

Perhaps it's because every time I have to talk about E in public in a cordial manner I get mad: mad at myself that I feel anything. He deserves no stir of emotion of any kind in me. I feel regret that someone so small should get such a big reaction. That, coupled with my confusion over theater in general, makes me want a shot of the Wild Turkey in the kitchen.

I think I have to accept that there will always be a pang when I hear about theater things. It's strange, I have friends who I can listen to for hours when they talk about being lawyers, doctors, public relations experts, or whatever, and admire them, but I cannot do that with my peers in the theater. Perhaps it is because I wanted it once--the way I wanted E once, and though it's over, there is residue. Thick, sticky, midnight-blue colored residue from my needs and desire coats these topics. To come on them unprepared is like walking through a spider web, it takes time and effort to get it off.

intentions

I really did have every intention of writing something morbid. Then I had a really nice day: like my job, had dinner with a new friend that was full of great conversation, and still have my legs.

So, I guess the most morbid thing I can share (that was talked about tonight) is the entire concept that life is pain. It's always true, just today I see the pain in it's beauty. How could I try to transcend something so pretty and shiny as this pain?

blogging drunk, again

I do not have a problem.

Tonight I met a High School friend of mine who is 6 months away from getting his MD. Pharmies.

Life is wonderful, when it doesn't suck.

I'm so lucky to know (and half know for bloggers) such wonderful people. Tomorrow I will write something morbid.

Screen this!

Tonight, I was lucky enough to meet Craig Lucas, a wonderful playwright. I was at a special benefit screening of The Dying Gaul, which I highly recommend. The script, of course, is fantastic and Mr. Lucas directed it. I also got to meet the producer of Holedigger Productions that produced the film. So I got to feel very important.

he's WAY less sex-driven than you

That's how most men are listed in comparison to me on Okcupid. I'm annoyed by this. If I'm supposed to believe the patriarchy, men love sex and constantly want it, and if you also enjoy sex, then perhaps you and men will have something in common. Well, perhaps not with internet men. The majority are also WAY less politically active. I think I should just work on creating my perfect man robot.

awesomeness

I'm a little tipsy, which I think will make this the best post ever. I know in real life that drinking makes me prettier, smarter, more outgoing, and funnier. So far in blog world I've realized it makes me a bad typer.

Had a great time with JA tonight. We went to some hooka lounge in the East Village. I think I like the hooka, it tastes like apples. We were there with all her friends. I will try to give you details after I wake up, drink tea and water, eat something greasy and take Excedrin :-)

start-up the porn

I am working several days out of my boss' office. She has a fantastic apartment, and an adorable Yorkie dog named Jerry. She was out of the office the past two days getting Jerry a Yorkie sister. So yesterday I worked at her home with her live-in boyfriend who also worked from home. He's a very personable guy and we had a good time hanging out, working our perspective jobs and we watched Inside Edition, or some other crap over our order-in noodle soup that he insisted on paying for. We had a great time, and I like libf a lot.

Today libf was out of the apartment too and I had it all to myself. I went to watch the TV over my lunch. I turned the on button and what should appear but porn. Yep, a summary of Triple X version 8. It was kinda hot. I couldn't figure out how to turn it off, or even get it to play one of the tracts, which was disappointing. I finally decided that it was playing on a DVD in the bedroom and that the living room TV was connected to that DVD.

I miss sex. It's funny how much it turned me on. The thing is (and the reason I've been so un-turned on lately) that real sex and porn are very different. It takes a lot of trust to have someone just fuck you like that. Or for me it takes a lot of trust to be dirty around someone.

And that is my post on porn. I need to stop talking about it, or I'll get drunk and make out with a tool only to realize that their penis is probably not up to my high expectations. Maybe I'll just do that tomorrow instead.

All about me

I'm bailing on a friend tonight. TV is going on tour and called for a bar night at that infamous karaoke place where CC had his belated birthday. I didn't go. Not for any real reason except I'm warm and comfortable and it's hard to drag oneself out to a bar at 11:30 sometimes. If only it weren't a subway ride away. Of course, that's a flimsy excuse; it's not as if it's in Brooklyn. The place is 30 blocks and 6 avenues away from where I'm warm and cozy right now. When I write it like that does it sound more or less far away? I will see him tomorrow for a farewell dinner, and he'll be back in 3 months. I will miss him terribly.

I got a hit of dating burn-out from the internet today; that might also be keeping me from the bar scene. I didn't really think that was possible, but that silly Okcupid site has been interesting. I signed up a week ago, and so far I've gotten a bit of email and had a few exchanges. One of the boys I exchanged email with called it off today. Yes, I did say 'called it off'' about a email string. He said, 'I don't really like this whole on going email thing so either call me or let's plan to meet.' I feel bullied by that. Okcupid did warn me about this, we did have low compatibility. I only wrote him because he looked cute enough and had a Oscar Wilde reference in his profile. Why I should care at all about a second of this, I do not know. Yet, I feel rejected a little. Why you may care, I can not fathom.

Little to No

Little to No direct over-sight, kids. I'm on my own in the office! I am almost afraid to admit how much I love this job, like I might wake up or jinx it's fantastic-ness.

Saw Good Night, and Good Luck last night. It is great. Not as pointed as I was expecting, but very very good. That's the new news from the new happy yb. I'm almost to happy to be interesting!

Hey, has anyone noticed an up-surge in friendster usage? Strange.

I'm at a start-up

I'm sitting in the back office. My boss is on her way. Our first meeting for the day is filling out some paper work. I'm am trying not to freak out. I haven't been abandoned. Oh, is that her? No, I don't think so, those are the receptionists talking amongst themselves about the copy-machine-repair-guy and his come-ons.

I used to be a receptionist. I am very happy that I'm not and also terrified of messing up. Breathe, yb! (I told you I'd find time to blog at work--it's when I should be preparing for how to deal with my new job!)

Paradoxes

I have so very much to muse about and so little time to write! My new job is fantastic, and I hope that soon I will feel comfortable enough with it to blog my ass off at work, like the good old days. Until then, I think I will be reduced to quick updates. Though, maybe not. I could stay up late just yammering on about what I think I may have learned, observed, or done in a drunken stupor.

Sunday night I went to see Trailer Park! The Musical. It had good moments and should definitely be done at my high school in hometown, TN every other year. There are 5 female parts and 2 men, which is a plus, as well as a bunch of jokes that I think my next door neighbors there would appreciate. E went to see the show with me. We ended up getting dinner before and he even met me at work. He was having a bad day, and I am not mean enough (no matter how hard I try) to deny him my friendship. It also gives me that warm, fuzzy, I'm-a-better-person-than-you feeling. After the play he offered to walk me to my apartment, and I told him, 'I'm not going to my apartment, I'm going to buy ice cream.'

He ended up coming up and sharing ice cream and falling asleep on my couch when I tried to share this awesome PBS DVD I have with him. I let him stay. It was on 11 pm; he could have taken the train back to the Heights, but I didn't make him. I went to bed, and he slept on the couch and it was okay. I wasn't filled with ranker or longing, though I must admit I had pangs of each. I don't think it means anything other than in happened. That was my Sunday night.

Monday was my first day at the job and I learned a lot. I actually need to stop rambling and look over my homework for tonight. I brought the handbook home. It was lovely, and I promise I will write more about it soon.

Tonight I scored tickets to Absurd Person, Singular which is playing at the Biltmore (MTC's Broadway space). I have a friend in the show, and she is very good, but over-all, I think it's too slow, too un-British in it's timing and therefore not as funny as I was hoping. The production doesn't quite fit the style.

I went to the show with SS who is a wonderful actress and friend I went to college with. We had margaritas and a great conversation about theater, life, men, art, fear and all the things that a worth talking about. I will talk to you about all our great insights very soon.

this is Butterstick by the way. I didn't want to post an entry without a picture...

The New Girl

I did not have to talk to a tourist today if I did not choose to. My new job has given me freedom. Whoo-hoo.

We are All a Little Crazy

In the past 24 hours, some crazy things have happened. As of yet, none of them involve Bill Clinton.

Last night I went to see my friend CH in a play (AEA showcase) downtown at the Access Theater. I knew two of the actors from school and one of them as the ex-boyfriend of St. Matthew’s girlfriend, CB. I know that it’s confusing. CB dumped (or so we thought) this actor to date St. Matthew. It didn’t turn out to be that simple. She had dated the actor for a complicated decade, or near a decade, and they had both been as it seems a bit on the conniving, head-trippy, we-love-being-unhappy-together side.

For those reasons, and many that I don’t know anything about, CB and the actor had some overlap with CB and my roommate. There was much drama throughout these dark times. St. Matthew got the girl in the end, and we know he’s visiting her right now in Atlanta. What happened was after the show I said hello to my friends, mingled a bit and then said hi to the actor with a, ‘do you remember me?’ he replied with a vehement ‘yeah’ and asked to have a private moment.

So the actor took me aside and we had a long talk which boiled down to him telling me, “I’m not a bad guy.” Poor thing. Relationships are hard. People do stupid shit. I told him I didn’t know any details (which is pretty true as St. Matthew is a saint and respects other people’s privacy), but that I knew what it was like to have something huge collapse and that I would have done the same thing. The same thing being: have a heart to heart with an almost complete stranger just to gratify my own sense of justice. I wish I didn’t know what a freak he is, he’s pretty cute.

The other crazy thing has to do with a theater company founded by my college friends. I ran into one of them on 42nd the other day I was walking to work and found out he’s involved with The Color Purple (the new musical presented by Oprah). I congratulated him profusely, because that is super cool, and I am happy for him. Well, today he called me to audition for the college company’s fall production. He called about 30 minutes before the auditions were to take place. Thank God that I got up early and was at the gym at that time.

When I returned the call the auditions were in process and I explained that I had work, and plans and was not free. He just wanted to apologize for the ‘gross oversight’ of not actually getting me an audition. From there on the conversation went a little something like this:

yb: No worries.
TD: Well, I wanted to let you know, we’re thinking of you, babe.

Actually, no TD, if you were thinking of me, you would have called before now. Don’t lie now, there’s no reason. I do not feel better or worse based on how your company casts its shows. I’m relieved that circumstances kept me from the whole thing. He probably wanted to make sure I’ll be attending their fundraiser next week. “No hard feelings, babe.”

I think I may have mentioned before my love/hate relationship with theater people.

On the love side of it, I met Brian F. O’Byrne, the actor in Doubt who is truly incredible on the 42nd St. Subway Platform last night, waiting for the A. I made eye contact with him, recognized him and since, I have the most expressive face in the world, was a bit trapped after that since we had such a strong eye-contact moment. I went up, introduced myself, and congratulated him on the play. I gushed about how great I thought it was, that I’ve seen it twice, and then made a hasty escape. He seemed very nice, and probably would have talked to me longer, except that my face was turning purple. Actors make me nervous.

Celebs

Well, it's taken me so long to post because somebody made me join OKCupid.com. I better fucking fall in love with one of these internet freaks.

In other news, I maybe maybe just might maybe get to see or even meet Bill Clinton at my weekend job tomorrow. Cross your fingers for me. How cool is that?




pic from here

So Done

I have completed my final day at lousy old job. I showed up three and a half hours late. I'm so fucking classy. Seriously, though, and I'll tell you why.

Last night, after going through my friendster drama, I got drunk. I was planning on going to a bar with TV, CC (trying to be friends), AW, and some others anyway. Upon flipping myself out about E's new girl, I filled a half full 20 oz. diet coke bottle to 3/4ths full with Wild Turkey. Then I drank the whole ghetto-fantastic thing on the subway down to Alphabet City.

At the bar I managed to buy $50 worth of drinks anyway. Mostly for others, or I would surely be dead. Then I kissed a girl. AW and I totally made out. Drunkly Drunkenstein, that's who I was. I managed to go home alone, because I became totally belligerent. Or I became totally belligerent because I knew I wanted to go home alone. Chicken or Egg. I was certainly not exhibiting my most charming self either way.

Then I slept through my alarm. It was 11:12 when I woke up. St. Matthew, my roommate is in Atlanta visiting his girlfriend. I felt fine when I woke up, and since I had made thank you cards for people, I went in to work to say my goodbyes. I ended up working the remainder of the day (mostly deleting files and realizing that sometimes it takes a few hours for a hangover to set in.)

Tonight I'm staying in, listening to Joni Mitchell, and if I feel ambitious doing laundry. I might get food delivered. It's so raining.

"Will you take me as I am:
Strung out on another man?
California I'm coming home."

The bite

Well, I was hoping that it would not come. It came.

I have been bit in the ass.

E's new love interest has viewed my friendster profile. I assume this is because she saw that I have viewed hers. I can only hope that E has not been idiot enough to mention me, or my name, or hopefully even that he was dating a woman to this girl yet.

Fuck if I know. I may be about to be unmasked as the crazy bitch I am, and all over a boy who honestly, deep-down in the pit of my guts I knew was not all-that to me. I guess the answer to 'Who's Crazy?' would be 'Me.'

Who's Crazy? Who is?

This will reference Sex and the City. Just FYI.

Last night I stayed in. I was feeling sniffly and generally anti-social from a hormone/weather combination. The news will not stop talking about the super-saturation of NYC and surrounding areas. I stayed in, I napped, read and soon found myself watching a cleaned-up re-run of Sex and the City on the WB.

It was the episode (I think season 2) where Carrie gets Mr. Big to go to a wedding. It reminded me of an excellent post by the Company Bitch. Women are just a basketful of crazy sometimes. What is the allure of the Big Game ‘unavailable’ men? Why did we devour six seasons of fictionalized SJP chasing a guy who in his ‘big relationship moments’ gives her a toothbrush and shows up at a restaurant that he said he would show up at? That just sucks, and yet it is such an entertainment!

I still think far too often about E and our drawn out chase of a relationship. Even now in our ‘friendship’ phase I play the ‘what does he mean’ game with great aplomb. For example, I think I told you that he called Monday to find out the name of a restaurant to take a ‘friend’ to. I assumed this friend was a date, I assumed he was shoving said date into my face, and I assumed that his actions were for my benefit. Though I never returned E’s call that day, I did call him last night after the Sex and the City episode when ‘big game’ thoughts ran through my mind. He had called earlier yesterday to ‘say hi’ which I assumed was because he realized like a child or a puppy might, that his behavior on Monday hadn’t been appreciated.

When we did speak it turned out that the friend had been a guy. A guy who had made a special trip down to see E from a business trip in Boston. Reality and my Assumptions collided and I was forced to realize that perhaps not everything is about me. For this to become a healthy relationship, it shouldn’t be all about me, either.

Do you think that there might still be some deeply ingrained sexual/cultural learned behavior that we are all subject to. Are we programmed to catch men? Are we all responding to a collective unconscious urging women to create: create a relationship so you can get with it and create a baby? Is it simply that the imagined life is always better than the real one? What do you think, ladies?

Drama Bitches

Last night I went to volunteer at my local pro-choice organization. I love it there. Those women are so fantastic; they are so smart and passionate. After stuffing envelopes for a few hours, I stopped by a bar on W. 4th Street to see a school friend. I got some soup and chatted with him about plays, books and had a good time. Then some more of his friends stopped by.

These friends were Drama Bitches. The Drama Bitches pretended to be glad to see me, even seemed to invite me to the next stop on their whirlwind Drama Bitch tour which was so close to my apartment that I acquiesced. When we arrived, however, I felt quite unwelcome. I also felt absolute certainty that I would be talked about, outfit and all, as soon as I was out the door (or in the bathroom, for that matter). It was ridiculous. Ridiculous as in all of us deserved ridicule: me for being there, and them for being that way. It reminded me that I can hate theater people as much as I love theater people.

By the way, I looked pretty cute, so I have no idea what those Drama Bitches said after I left. Ignorance is, in some cases, bliss.

Back up

Whee!

So, I once interviewed for a higher position here at lousy old job. The job was to be the PA to one of the Operations big wigs. He is a very nice man, but I was not offered the job since I was honest in my interview. I did tell you about this. Anyway, Big Wig found out today that I’m leaving. I have no idea why my supervisor didn’t tell him when I put in my notice, but this way I got to see the shock and recognition all register on his face. It was quite awkward.

I had to tap dance around why I was leaving, not because I hate this hellhole, but because I had better opportunity elsewhere. To top it all off, T was on a Google Talk call with me. If you haven’t gotten Google Talk, get it; it’s fantastic. So over in Germany he was listening to the sounds of the lobby while I answered calls, directed visitors and pussyfooted around with Big Wig. The funny thing was how comforting it felt to have someone there ‘with’ me.

In other news, E called me on Monday and I did not answer. He left a voice mail saying he was out and about with a ‘friend’ and looking for a restaurant that he and I had been to together on one of our good dates. It was a French place with a soup specialty. All I wanted was to text back ‘New friend = New restaurant. Fuck Off.’ But I didn’t, I simply didn’t respond. I wonder how long he is going to behave as if he’s in middle school. You have a girlfriend, I don’t have a boyfriend: I get it. On the upside it does make me feel ridiculously better than him. I am also quite relieved that I have seen pictures of this girl, and know a few choice facts about her. Thank goodness I have some cards in my hand, otherwise I would have taken this call a lot harder.

There are some great posts out in blog world today. Go to Defective Yeti and Networkchic for good reading.

Friendster and Cupid

I found this picture when searching Google Images for Cupid. I'm going to go with it.

It's Sunday and misty cold here in the NYC; I'm at my weekend job on the 87th floor and can't even make out the park. These environmental conditions have lead me to spend way to much time on Friendster.

You have probably noticed that one of Friendster's new features allows you to see who has looked at your profile. Haven't you ever heard of mystery, Friendster? So everyone who I've randomly searched on Friendster now knows I have too much time on my hands. Including E's new love interest. The internet is such a double-edged sword.

I also contacted arch-nemesis/cute party boy via friendster.

Cute goat, eh? Sorta makes me think of the devil...

the scene

I went to a party last night. I wore fantastic costume jewelry and drank Wild Turkey. Enigma was there and I hope I didn't bring him down. We really didn't overlap for long and I had my own posse.

I found one of the other party boys quite cute. Cute boy is Enigma's arch-nemesis, but he's also my age, has dark hair and is a Taurus. This website says: Scorpio has an incessant need to express love through the action of sex and whilst this may flatter Taurus for a while, they will need to see your more affectionate and sensitive side, Scorpio. Taurus will only persist in a relationship as intense as this if you can offer security and support on other levels, irrespective of their sensual appetites. Scorpio will help Taurus explore their untapped love and sensuality, which can reach a peak in the Scorpio/Taurus bond.

I just wish I could find someone who will indulge my incessant need to express love through the action of sex. Didn't talk much to the arch-nemesis, since I was trying to be good. Though hopefully I sent off some subtle messages about how he might help me deal with my incessant need to express love through the action of sex.

Personal Day

I took yesterday off work, and I still have one more personal day saved up before my last day next Friday. I took yesterday off because I hate this lousy job. The subconscious reason though was that my deli girl asked if I was pregnant.

Almost everyday I go to this deli on 34th and Madison and pay nearly 4 dollars for a small cup of soup. The same girl is always the cashier. In fact, I don’t think she’s taken a single day off in the year that I’ve been going. Yesterday as I was putting up my change and in a bad mood from my stupid job she asked if I was pregnant. I responded, ‘no, aren’t you glad you asked?’ She giggled. I don’t know if she really heard the ‘aren’t you glad you asked’ part.

There was no pause between question and answer. It was like answering ‘which way is Macy’s?’ it didn’t affect me at all, until I sat down started eating my small cup of soup and getting pissed. I eat approximately 8 oz of salty water with a few morsels of chicken in it, some carrot slices and bits of boiled celery everyday. If you knew that, would you ask me if I was pregnant? I’m SO within a healthy BMI. I’m no America’s Next Top Model, but I’m certainly not carrying a fetus for the love of God.

So, I didn’t work out that night in some bizarre retaliation. I’m not pregnant and I’m not going to the gym. Fuck you and your Fascist Beauty Standards, Deli Girl. It’s just because I have bigger boobs than her. So, I took the day off of work yesterday, and found out that Deli Girl had just mistaken me for the slender, famous Katie Holmes.

baby steps

Well, I do have my legs.

Last night I went out with JH (the female) who will now be JHf. She’s fantastic: a wonderful, funny woman who has recently been through a break-up of T proportions. I met her at her work on E 4th and we went to a bar to get hit on. I thought it would be helpful. It was.

The Yankees were playing so there were boys that might not have been there for the soul purpose of nursing addiction. Eventually, these boys talked to us. My main target never made a move unfortunately, but we did get surrounded by a battalion of fire fighters. I thought that was pretty good for JHf’s first foray into the bar dating world. She got a number written on her hand, and I got nothing but the satisfaction of seeing that which was fine with me.

The problem was that I got home at 11 and was tipsy and wanted to have fun. I called a bunch of friends, chatted on the phone with T’s mother for 45 minutes, had a slice of pizza, a bowl of Special K, and a fat-free pudding cup before my roommate finally came home to save me from myself.

Keep it real Battalion 6, Division 1!!!

Today

I want to be happy, and that puppy makes me happy. So there.

So for the next few days, I'm going to focus on having my legs, having an end in sight for this job, and the knowledge that E's new girlfriend has been overheard saying that she doesn't like Sondheim.

Everything is going to be fine. It'll be just fine. I have dear, wonderful friends, and the internet is filled with porn and other people who hate George W. Bush. See: fine. Just fine.

Memory play

Happy Notice Day! My final day at lousy old job will be Oct 14th. Last year, October 14th was particularly memorable. It was the day I signed the papers to go permanent after temping since the middle of July. I called T to tell him. He told me to go ahead, that there was no issue. T and I had been in ‘relationship divorce’ proceedings since May, and for whatever reason, signing on as a real worker at lousy old job felt like the end. In my mind, it was a huge event and a finale for any possibility of T and I working out. Lousy old job was a line in the sand: I am committed to NYC even though you’ll never come here.

So, October 14th of 2004 I called T and cried. It was a very horrible day for me and I remember getting in my pajamas at 11pm just to sleep it away. I got a call from E at midnight and that was when our relationship really began.

E and I had been flirting for several weeks, but he had a girlfriend, so the safety was always on. I think that fact actually lead us to flirt more than if there had been an open possibility of us dating. I remember saying things in those flirty weeks like, “I will make him mine” and using a 1-10 number scale for how likely it was for us to sleep together. I was on the hunt. The night of the 14th (a Thursday) he called to invite me to a bar where he was meeting his roommate and other friends. I jumped out of bed, pt on something hot (but not too hot) and did my make-up.

I met him at the door to my building, as the restaurant where he was working was only a few blocks away. We got in a cab and headed to the West Village. It seemed to me something was different on that ride. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but the energy had gone from silly to dangerous, and all I knew was it was very exciting.

When we got to the bar I bought us shots so we could ‘catch-up’ with E’s friends who had been there awhile. We sat at a large table listening to whoever was playing on the open mic and chatting with the new people. After another drink or few, I leaned over the table and told E, “You are I are the same, I think. We are terrible flirts when the safety is on.” I smiled, he had been chatting with girls and I with the boys and we were both having fun. His reply was, “My girlfriend and I broke up.” I said, “You are coming home with me.”

There were other quips and other details throughout the night, but our fate had been sealed. When I got us a cab after last call, he didn’t object. It was hot and it only got better until it got worse. I still covet his body, and probably will for a lot longer. As for the non-sexual aspects of our relationship, they were a roller coaster. There was so much withholding (from both parties), so much fear, and also so much tenacity. It lasted 9 months after all. I miss the sex. Rumor has it he’s starting seeing someone else.

Notice

In honor of the official end of Brad Pitt's marriage, I have written my notice to my lousy old job. I would post it but it's boring, nothing fun, no barbed insults, no name calling, no honesty. It's just a 'business' letter. Nonetheless, I'm way excited. I've never turned in a notice before, and I've never quit a job without moving. I am, I guess, growing up.

Last night, I hung out with TV who, it turns out, is also a virgin. He told me about some commitment phobe he is dating, and I told him I had gone commitment phobe on his friend CC. We are able to work past this though he did advocate helping CC out of his state. Then it occurred to me, guys can lie about if they're virgins or not. Not that they did, just wondering why they didn't. Then again, I might be out of touch with my entire generation. This is after all conservative America.

Maybe I should stop listening to Joni Mitchell. Maybe I should lie about having read Fear of Flying. I hate puritans.

When I met TV he was with a group of friends and one was quite attractive. He reminded me of E a little. They have similar faces. I think that the statue of limitations on TV's friends is still on though. So the only thing I got from E-esque friend was more E bad dreams.

It's October

Paris and Paris have called off their engagement. Perhaps they also got good advice outinleftfield. Like Paris and Paris I was able to summon the courage to go through the whole 'just friends' talk with CC. I'm at peace with him being a cute boy who is not right for me.

Now I will get back to posting about new not right for me boys. Maybe I can find one tonight...