Polygamy - WOW!

Housekeeping first today campers. My photo albums - link at left - have been moved from shutterfly to flickr. Click that shit!

Down to business now. The drama, as always, continues. Went to The Darkside on Saturday to see my favorite bartender and ended up utterly monopolized by a recently single male friend (SMF) who quite literally, despite my protestations that I wanted to stay, sit and sip (water at this point as I was quite tipsy) picked up my purse and jacket and walked out of the bar. Cute bartender understood the look on my face but was of no use (is this a theme??).

Ended up hanging at SMF's place. Fine. Sunday evening went to meet my BF Laura, her hubby Jonathan and his niece Krista at their hotel in West Orange at about 7, hung out and then took off for dinner at Mexicali Rose (mmmmm!) Jonathan and Krista went in the van while Laura rode with me. We were on our way around 8:20 when my cell starts blowing up -- SMF calling. Didn't answer. Hey, I was driving! Left celly in car during dinner....came back to 2 missed calls from SMF PLUS a voicemail.

Soooo...went to the bar to pee and grab a quick drinkie...SURPRISE!!! SMF is there! I won't rehash the whole convo but will give you an outline:

1. Why didn't you answer the phone?
2. Why didn't you call me back?
3. I'm pissed off at you.
4. Come home with me.
5. How much will it cost for you to come home with me?
6. If you were a hooker how much would you charge?
7. Me exiting.
8. My phone ringing as I get in the car.
9. SMF heading for my car while on the phone with me.
10. Me peeling out.

Guys, I dontwannaanswermyphone!! If that shit rings and I don't know the number it's going to voicemail. I'd just like to know if I'm giving off some kind of prositutey vibe because now TWO men have asked me how much it would cost them for a sleepover. Things are alllllll kinds of wrong. I flipped all of my husbands the bird at some point this weekend - two of them last night. I'm heading for "My Big Fat Polygamist Divorce" any day now. Egads!By the way, just in case you were wondering, I did manage to squeeze in a little QT with my favorite bartender. I have to, as Tim Gunn of Project Runway says, "Make it work!"

Indecent Proposal

Wouldn't you know it...I said I'd write when something interesting happened and now I've got a prime example of "be careful what you wish for." My power went out at about 5pm yesterday so I decided to go out early. As is my luck I got stuck in this crazy rain storm which was creating actual WAVES on local streets but being the intrepid and determined woman that I am I made it to the bar in one piece.

Now, I'm not going to name any names, but a certain fella (*cough* NB *cough*) came up with the brilliant idea of doing "Shots on the 3's". We commenced at 6:03 and as you can imagine we were pretty fucked up at 6:53...especially because the rules were kind of fuzzy and things went terribly wrong (or right depending on your point of view) between 6:30 and 6:40. Just the same we had a lovely time and went traipsing off to the NB's best friend's apartment with said best friend (BF).

Well, NB, BF and I continue to drink and watch movies when the tide turns. I'm sitting on the couch between NB and BF when BF starts stroking my earlobe. A few minutes later he comes right out and asks if I'd like to have a threesome with him and the NB. The NB tries to shut him up and I think he's joking so I looked at him and said, "It's not you he objects to, it's me." The BF then switches gears and says, "I will give you anything you want if you will just not go home with [the NB]." He goes on and on about how he wants me to stay with him, how we should have sex, get married, have babies, etc. The entire time the NB sits there saying nothing.

Well folks, at a certain point I stopped being able to laugh it off and the NB was being useless (told him so as well) so I told the BF to "talk to my pimp" and get back to me...I was going out to smoke. The NB didn't move and the BF followed me out, came and sat with me and told me that he wants a girlfriend, that he's been looking at me, etc. and tops it off with, "How much is it going to cost me to have you move in here and fuck up my life?" I got up, told the NB and the BF to work it out between the two of them and let me know in the morning and walked out the door.

I don't know what else to say. I don't know what was drunk talking, what was serious, what was a big fat joke on me and I don't really get the NB just sitting there. I'm not about to be passed around. Ugh! They drive me insane...this group is just too incestuous. Just to make things a little crazier my bartender friend is working tonight...oh dear!

Power? We don't need no stinkin' power!

Well, it's been a little tough to blog the past few days because these crazy thunderstorms have left us with what could best be described as intermittent power. In fact we've got a nice boomer going on here so I'm just praying that our power stays on 'cause I'm not really in a "make your own fun" kind of mood. Despite my fluctuating electrical state (I like that!) I did manage to drink 4 out of 4 days this week. There may not be any tequila left in the state of NJ and there certainly isn't any in The Darkside - I had to *gasp* shoot vodka last night!

Things are ok with the NB but it still feels a little odd. To disspel the awkwardness and lack of self confidence...well, let's just say that I spent some quality time with my bartender. Remember folks, I'm a relatively good girl so how bad could it be? The nice thing about making out with my bartender is that I drank for free the rest of the night.

Ugh! I have things to do. Need to run out for a bit. I'll add on later once something vaguely interesting happens.

Cocktails Anyone?

Ah unemployment! While I must say I've been relatively industrious in the morning hours there's just something about not being required to be anywhere in particular that just makes me want to drink.

When I became jobless I swore I would not start drinking before 5pm with the exception of Sundays (The Lord's Day after all - why not start at 3?). While for the first week or so this was simple I now hear the call of The Darkside earlier and earlier in the day. So, gentle readers, I ask you to send me some ideas of what to do with my copious free time...send web links, book titles, your mom's phone number! Give me something to do besides fight with the NB!!

Which brings me to The Fight. The NB and I have a relationship that is best described as one of Approach-Avoidance. He spends a month or so telling me how much he loves me, that he thinks about me a lot, that I'm so important and then BANG! runs off like his ass is on fire. I won't go on at length about this week's fight but what it boils down to is that on Saturday night while hanging out with him at his best friend's place I was treated to a phone conversation between the NB and The White Trash Skank which reached it's climax in "Ok, meet me at my place I'll run over there now."

When the color finished draining from my face I grabbed my purse and ran out of the apartment. The NB followed me, swore to me "She isn't a girlfriend. It's not like that", kissed me and ran off home. Two phone conversations followed (initiated by me, of course) which ended with a resolution that we would speak about it in person the next day. The next day he was unreachable. The third day he tried to act like nothing was wrong and when reminded that there was an issue he became super nasty. By that afternoon apologies had been issued but something is very different now...at least on my end. I'm staying hurt....and to tell the truth, knowing his severe allergy to shiny-skinned fruit I'm thinking about leaving a basket of apples on his doorstep.

The Penis Party

Every woman who enjoys the company of men (I don't mean as opposed to being a lesbian - just that the majority of her friends are fellas) has had the experience of having that one moment of clarity that makes her realize that she really is one of the guys. It's the kind of moment that makes you want to slam down your tequila shot and scream "Hey! I'm a friggin' GIRL!!"

Case in point: I'm at The Darkside last night enjoying happy hour with Da Boyz as usual when it begins...the off-color jokes, crude sexual comments about women (both real and imagined) and suddenly I realize I'm in the middle of a Penis Party. The guys, including the NB are laughing so hard they're nearly pissing themselves. I paused for a moment, looked down my shirt to make sure I still had tits, and thought "I've been assimilated into the Borg."

I remember the days when they used to apologize to me for making lewd jokes in my presence. The end of those days is met with mixed feelings. I love them, I feel accepted...and comfortable...and yet there's something that's just icky and makes me feel weird. I suppose it's that along with being "The Girl" in the group I used to function as the locus of sexual desire but now that's gone too and I might as well trade in my boob shirt for a flannel and a Yankees cap.

It also occurs to me that it MAY be contributing to the aforementioned drought as far as the NB is concerned....I mean, come on, he's straight...he doesn't want to have sex with one of the boys. So, gentle readers, tonight I pull out the big guns. Hair, makeup, hootchie shirt. I AM WOMAN - WATCH ME DRINK!

Paging Dr. Freud

I am a world-class overreactor. I accepted this long ago but it comes as something new to certain people in my life. If any of you have met my grandmother or even my father for that matter, you're saying to yourself, "You come by it honestly!" or even "How'd you get so close to normal?" Yesterday I bemoaned the fact that the NB was not speaking to me due to my propensity for overreaction and my instantaneous need to dial in the face of some new crisis. It ended up being a case in point.

All day I fretted about my peccadillo. I courted the NB via email with news items, Onion articles and self-deprecating humor all to no avail. At 4pm with an empty in-box I shut down the computer and flopped on the couch resigned to the fact that I would be residing in the dog house for some time.

At 5pm I decided to take it to The Darkside. I was sitting on the back stoop with Wilfredo telling him that the NB was, in fact, furious with me and I was in deep shit when - LO! - I saw him in the distance walking toward the very spot where I sat pathetically slumped smoking a ciggie. His first act? To kiss me and say, "Did you get my email? I was in Pennsylvania all day - just got back. I can't believe you thought I was punishing you!"

Yes, I overreacted to the imagined reaction to my overreaction. I need therapy.

Little Miss Drama

It's been a bit since the last entry...yes, the drought continues - BUT WAIT!! THERE'S MORE!! Let's start with the fact that I got fired. Yes, after 5 long years of giving my blood, sweat (that's actually funny as I was working for a gym) and tears to New York Sports Club, I am now unemployed.

While I am royally pissed off I also feel kind of happy-relieved-excited. I've been applying for jobs like crazy and it's getting to be kind of fun. I'm applying for stuff I don't even know if I can pull off - but hey! who cares?

The drama, my dear friends, does not end with me getting canned. My friend's former fiancee killed himself on the 4th of July and I spent Friday morning at the funeral. Last night I attempted to have my usual nice, relaxing Sunday reading the paper in the Parkside Lounge and instead ending up watching a brutal, animalistic fight between one of my exes (ok, a prize for anyone who can guess which ex) and a friend of mine. Both parties left bleeding and handcuffed in Verona PD squad cars.

Now, the more pertinent issue (ha!) is that all this drama has made me a little on the tense-anxious-weepy side. The unfortunate side-effect is that every time I get upsettish I dial a certain gentleman. I realized it was OOC when I called him last night after the fight and he said "Was it you who was calling me about a dozen times?" Now, I responded truthfully when I said that I had called once a few minutes earlier and that was it HOWEVER if his first thought was that I was a redial-o-phile I must be driving him up a wall.

He, not so incidentally, is not speaking to me today as far as I can tell. He won't return an email... even the really adorable fake press release about my self-imposed cell phone ban. What's a Drama Queen to do?

Put Out or Get Out

Ok, so I promised that this would be the title of today's blog entry and I'm not one to make false promises. Today's entry is obviously about sex, or lack thereof. I've had this conversation with several women friends over the past few days and some interesting ideas have come out of it... the one I'm going with is Sherri's brilliant FMF concept. FMF is Fuck Me First. You want to go hang out and do guy things? No prob - FMF. You want to buy a big screen TV and watch porn all day? Fine. FMF.

For all those who have been following the saga off-line - the sad tale of the - not boyfriend - as Christine calls him (heretofore referred to as The NB) continues...with some interesting plot twists. Following his greatest hits including "Drunk on Your Birthday", "I Know I Don't Show it the Way I Should but I Love You Baby" and "Pickin' a Fight Cause I Don't Want to Hang" now comes "Sex Drought."

Yes, it's been a while. We talk about it, we make appointments to do it, we insist that we're both VERY interested in it (and with each other - I'm a thorough checker) and yet no one has touched anyone's naughty parts. Other than THAT everything has been lovely. I was at the NB's apartment the other night until 3 - I was sure it was going to happen, I was licking my chops, chomping at the bit, foaming at the mouth - but all on the inside. We were having one of those long, intimate, tell each other everything, deeply personal conversations that usually goes from someone talking, to someone crying, to hugging, to sex on the living room floor. Strangely, I was not the one doing the talking in this convo.

Stranger yet, sometime during the course of this conversation The NB asked me out on a real, honest-to-God date! He wants to take me out to dinner. On Monday. An actual plan was made. I was and still am shocked. My shock quickly turned to chagrin, however, when at 2:30AM he looked at me adoringly and said, "Sweetpea" - yes, he calls me Sweetpea...and frequently - "I don't think I'm going to be very good company tonight." Wink wink. Nudge nudge.

I was a good sport. Put on shoes. Got ready to go. He kissed me and told me that he loves me. He grabbed me by the door and hugged me and said that we owe each other a little...you know...promised we'd do that soon, etc. Now, I love this man but there are some things that just cannot stand! I tolerate his not-boyfriendness, I try to go with the flow but at a certain point -- COME ON!!!! There is only so much sexual frustration I can handle. I am irritable, not sleeping well, occasionally kicking puppies and stealing candy from babies. HELP A SISTER OUT!! If this weekend goes by and I have not been schtupped - well, desperate times call for desperate measures. So everybody say a prayer to Jeebus for me. Thank you and good night.