New York!

We had a lovely time in New York. Went to West Village Friday night, ran around to different bars, flirted with guys and drinking and then going to the bathroom and not coming back. I didn't pay for any drinks, this is awesome. We didn't really meet anyone interesting, and we noticed that we were both changing the way we talked, more "likes" and "you knows" and no big words. I stopped telling people I was a Chemistry major or that I was planning on going to grad school, I just made up random stuff. We started talking to two guys from the Cayman Islands at one lounge and we had some trouble getting away. I don't know why guys think they have to lay it on so thick. After talking for a few minutes, he's asking me what it would take to get me to fly in for the next weekend. I'm not going to pretend that I would do it, and I don't wanna argue about it, stop being such a leech. He says, "Have you ever dated a black guy before?"
"No...."
"Yeah I can tell!'
"What? What do you mean, how can you tell?"
"You're looking at me like I'm crazy!"
"Well thats cause you're saying crazy shit!"

The next night I wanted to go to the East Village. I'd seen all these cool weird bars that I thought it would be fun check out. We ran around to a few bars, but they were all full of little groups of people who didn't want to meet random girls. I can't really blame them. We decided we didn't feel like paying for our drinks so we went to the hotel bar. I felt a little lame for going to a hotel bar but it was really pretty and I sort of liked how hooker-ish it felt to hang out at a hotel bar in a slutty dress getting 35 year old out-of-town guys to spend money on us. While we were there we met some very good looking Federal Agents, in town for the Iran Presdient's visit to the UN. This is a good demographic- sexy, succesful, fun guys who would be married if they weren't too busy rocking the shit out of their jobs. Hmm I know a guy like that...

The next morning my dad came to see us for a little while. He was in Long Island, with his mistress. Yeah. Earlier last week he asked if I would be ok with meeting her. I said no, I wasn't comfortable. He's only recently moved out of the house, and I'm in no hurry to meet the woman who convinced him to adandon his wife and kids. We come down to the lobby and guess who is with him! Great. In spite of all the shots of top-shelf liquor the night before and my disgust at being ambushed like that, I managed not to vom all over her leathery fake-baked face. Instead I focused on the little turquoise box sitting in front of her. I was well behaved and polite and appreciative, even as they talked about how much fun they had picking it out together at the Tiffany's in Long Island. Gross.

Other than that, fantastic weekend.

I'll be 21 in like, 10 hours. I'll be in New York in about 18 hours. I've been looking up bars all week, debating which of 6 supercute dresses to wear... I have never been so excited in my life. Oh my god I feel like I'm going to explode!

Bars

I work in a bar this semester. I'm not 21, not till friday (more on that later...) so I've never really been in a bar. I work in the kitchen so it's not like I actually interact with drunk people, I just make drunk food. I actually like it a lot. Working in the kitchen is really unlike every other part of my life. i'm dirty and smelly and I have no makeup on and I probably have some sort of sauce in my hair. I don't see a mirror for 6-8 hours. I know that's a lame thing to think about, but I see all these pretty girls prancing around in heels and skirts looking turned out for a night of bar hopping and I look like someone vommed on me. I'm a little bitter.

Friday the power went out, so the kitchen shut down but the bar kept going. I went out there to wait for the power to come back, and I have never been hit on so much in my life, by a wide range of men. I had more drinks sent to me than I could possibly drink. It didn't even seem like they were being ironic or taking pity on me. Guys were coming out of no where to talk to me! The pretty girls were actually getting mad that they were being ignored. I can't stress enough that I looked like shit. The lighting was bad, the power was out and we were lit by candles and flashlights and emergecy exit signs but you could still see the stains on my shirt and the sweat on my face, I still looked a damn mess.

I'm not super hot, really. A 6 or a 7. I don't stand out, I'm not the girl guys try to talk to at the party. (I usually try to tell myself that this is because, like many "curvy" girls, I look a lot better naked than in clothes.) But apparantly I was shit-hot when I was rocking greasy hair and a dirty wifebeater. What the hell man? I'm not complaining, I love free drinks from sexy boys telling me I'm beautiful.

But what was going on? Was it that I looked very approachable? Did I look more "real"? Did I just stand out in a room full of turned out sorority girls? Did all that french fry grease give me an alluring glow? Did I look like I needed someone to rescue me?

This weekend my best friend and I are going to New York for my 21st birthday. Gonna get dressed up and go to bars and clubs I can't really afford. I'd really like to just have fun talking to random guys in bars, but I think I might have less luck with that when I'm all sexed up and pretty in a bar in Manhattan than when I'm dirty and sweaty in a college bar here.


BTW: Any New York bar or club suggestions are appreciated, my friend and I are not very cool.

Staying in For a While

Back at school, I've been very well-behaved. I haven't been going out, or drinking, or smoking, eating like, fish and vegetables every day, going to the gym constantly. I decided to stop being so lame for one night and actually went to a party, looking all leggy and tan and blonde with a water bottle filled with Target Sauvignon Blanc. After a few rounds of flip cup, my bottle of wine, and a variety of shots, I ended up across the street and somehow wrapped up in a very sexy boy.

How does this shit happen? It seems to be independent of my intentions, circumstances just align that way, a perfect storm of looking good, having just the right kind of buzz, and that random burst of flirtatiousness. Where does this come from? Do I have no self control? We just kept making out, and then ended up in his car. In retrospect, it wasn't very secluded, but once I got started I couldn't stop. (I'm really bad at making out without kicking it up to a higher level.) My hand wrapped around his dick, and once you do that there's no going back. I'm hooked.

"I want to take you somewhere....tell me where to take you." For some reason, everything this boy said was making me want him. He grabbed my hips and pulled me into him. "I really wanna fuck the shit out of you." And see, for some reason, that killlled me. He must have realized it was turning me on to an irrational degree, cause he said it about 4 times between the party and my house, as I was half directing him but unable to get off his dick. This boy was addictive, everything I did got more and more of a reaction, and I'm a sucker for positive feedback.

When we get to my house, I see the flashing red and blue lights out of the corner of my eye. I straighten up and the cop comes over to the window. "You made some wrong turns, are you lost? Have you been drinking?" He takes my boy away as I look on, stunned, thinking, 'but I want you to fuck the shit out of me!' I figure out that that's not happening and I decide I should cut my loses and get my drunk as inside my house.

No such luck. Blocked by the woman cop! "Have you been drinking?" I figure it's best not to lie. yes. "How many drinks?" "3 or 4?" "We're gonna need you to take a field sobriety test." This is where I went wrong, I should have said no, I should have not brought my ID with me, I should have not given her my ID. I failed the standing on one foot test (it's hard, ok?) and I blew a 1.85. Awesome.

"Officer, this is my apartment, I'm about to go inside. I'll be 21 in 2 weeks, I don't have anything on me, I'm about to go home and go to bed"
"But you're outside, you stepped out of the car, of your own free will. You're under arrest for being drunk in public and underage possesion of alcohol" I'm handcuffed and pushed into a car with a little more force than I thought was necessary.
"Are we going to the police station?"
"No missy, I'm taking you to jail!"
"Shit, really?"
"Yes, really."

We drive for like 40 minutes, I can't stop talking, mostly I'm telling her how bad I feel for the poor boy who thought he was just just getting some road head and some good hard boning. I didn't say that, although I thought about it. "You see, if he was swerving it might not have been cause he was drunk, it might be because he looked about to blow a load all over his steering wheel." I at least had the presence of mind not to add Lewd Behavior to my list of offenses.

At the jail they take all my shit, they take my hair out of the braids and won't let me have my hair tie. I look disasteous. She asks for my earrings. "I'm not wearing earings" "Yes, you are." "Oh yeah, these! I'll get em back right? I love them" Yeah I'm a little drunk. She makes me wear a giant smock thing, with some comments about my revealing outfit. Bitch it's like 85 degrees at night, and I look hot as shit. They take mug shots and send me to a room with some other derelicts. We are not to talk to each other. after 2 hours we're each locked in seperate cells with a seatless toilet and a bench. It's the coldest room I've ever been in. They let us out at 11 am to get some water. They keep me there till 4. I got 3 new zits and no sleep. I never saw the sexy boy, I don't know what they did to him but it's breaking my heart that he's got an underage DUI because of me.