All the reasons I have moved since living in NY...

1) You were nuts. You were the kind of girl who bites the heads off kittens, regurgitates them, and the wears the results as earrings. You got your brother to hunt me down two years later and badmouth you, so if I agreed you'd have a reason to kick my ass. He was pretty good at it too.

2) I miss you guys, you were awesome. If only one of you hadn't decided to start banging my bf, who took over the room while I was relocated to Florida. She decided to...

3) Move us in with some ADD control freak chef from work, who as a housewarming gift bought us a hairless Siamese (ew, looks like an embryo!) cat ( I HATE cats. And worse, they despise me. And love to show it by puking in my bed). And to gild the creepy off-white baggy fleshed lily, painted the apartment an extremely attractive shade of turd brown. With accents of Lindsey Lohan Tan-a-rama Orange.

4) Let's live with eight guys! That'll be fun! (Actually it rocked) but...

5) Grew up. Moved to Queens. Nearer to work.

6)Actually, forget the rest. I have three more moves but they're boring. I don't even know why I'm thinking of this. I'm probably drunk.

Random stuff about me

I believe most people have good intentions but stupid actions - so I trust nobody including myself!

I cannot say philosophy, oreganato or horse.

I am friends with all my ex-boyfriends except the first.

I make friends easily but I am horrible at keeping in contact with old ones.

I hate talking on the phone and I haven't checked my voicemail in over six months.

I know at least one thing about each of my close friends that they haven't told anyone else. I am queen of the 3am confessional and sometimes that drives me nuts!

I have a tendency to romanticise self-destruction - I can think logically but can't for the life of me act that way, so I bring a lot of unnecessary drama my way.

I've moved house 12 times.

I have broken my leg on 3 separate occasions before I actually got out of bed that day.

Since I was a kid I've been sure I'm going to die when I'm 30, I don't know how or why I'm so sure but I am.

I have ZERO impulse control.

I don't think I believe in love.

I am growing more and more sure I do believe in God - in the Catholic sense - and that both reassures and scares me because if I embrace it I'll have to re-evaluate my life.

I don't think people listen to each other at all.

I am a little unnerved by silence. I am a lot shyer and much more guarded than people realise.

My favourite thing in the world is the beach or Staten Island Ferry in the rain.

Self pity and self doubt really annoy me in other people even though I'm often guilty of both.

I am getting dumber on a daily basis.

If I had three wishes I would wish for a great singing voice, to be able to speak any language, and to never have to think about money. Not to be rich but just never to have to deal with it.

I am a terrible dancer, I practice in front of my mirror so I know!

It truly upsets me if I think some-one doesn't like me.

I confuse friendship and romantic interest all the time.

I wish I was closer, in distance and relationship, to my family.

I always have an intense, embarrassing. teenagey crush on some-one but will usually lose interest after the first kiss.

I used to be a fairly mellow person but now I have no patience with anyone. But I will forgive people anything, we've all done things we regret so can't judge anyone more harshly than we judge ourselves.

I believe in karma and that positive thinking brings positive results, but I never admit to it because my official line is I hate all that self-help/new agey stuff.

I don't understand people who don't read.

I kept a diary every day from 5 to 15, until my parents read them and then I couldn't be honest with myself anymore. Starting again though.

I am horribly disorganised and chronically late.

Wow... Upperclass guilt

So I just moved into a GREAT, AMAZING building,and it's extremely unsettling. On one hand, I feel like I'm living in a movie - or even Sex and The City (I should explain, I'm not even a big fan, but lets just say I live in a Charlotte building in a Miranda neighbourhood, and you'll get it) - I get up, I go to my private bathroom, I feel like I should be taking fresh squeezed OJ (non-existent) on my terrace with an AWESOME view (okay, exists, and I luuuuuurve it) in my marabous (that's the British term for those feathery slippers, um, excitable housewives wear, I don't know if it translates) and then just lolling on my couch rejecting my multitudinious gentlemen callers with a languid wave of my lily-white hand. That is how f...... AMAZING my place is.

But I feel - well in all honesty I don't know. It is brand new, and like a movie. But I started this post 'cos as I came home at 5:15am, my doorman was asleep. I have a key, I used it; he woke up and RAN to the door, all 'I wasn't asleep, I wasn't asleep!' It's not like I'm going to tell anyone - before I moved in he surely had at least four hours uninterrupted from three til seven. SLEEP - I can open a door myself.

Having a doorman is so weird, it's almost like having a surrogate dad. They know what time and with who you come home... You get away with nothing.

So The one friend who has seen the place (Divorced Guy), when I spoke to him about my doorman thing, was like -'you are rich. it's a fact of life. you don't even see them'. I absolutely NEVER want to be that person.

I will make them my allies. And I will make George let me in myself so he can sleep.

I am SOOO not rich by the way. But I am living like a rockstar.

I'm gonna be a STAR!

Well, possibly. And not so much a 'star' as a member of the audience at 'Comedy Central Presents...'. But the camera guy was ALL UP IN MY FACE for the whole taping, I guess me and the new roomie make a very photogenic couple(!). It was so weird, in going to this thing I wanted nothing more than to get my ugly mug on screen, but trying laugh naturally when you know you're being taped is almost impossible. Well anyway fingers crossed I cam call my mum and tell her 'Look at me!'

We saw Brian Posehn, who was okay. He's so mopey and downbeat, it's hard to get caught up in the funny. And another guy, Nick Thune, who I've never heard of but who was hilarious.

The rest of my weekend was, I don't know, a little strange. I hung out with the new roomie Fri, we stumbled into Karaoke by mistake but we toughed it out. Saturday I went with him to his friends' friend's 30th birthday. I was so out of my element it wasn't even funny. That's good though, it made me realise how little I go to places where I'm not already a rockstar!I always go to the same bars with the same people, where I have a drink in my hand almost before I get through the door... It's not good for me. I need to get out of my comfort zone more often.

Alright that's it, was kind of an uneventful few days. Hopefully something interesting will happen tonight...

Karaokyurrrrgh

I just started working the karaoke shift at my bar and I must say. It sucks ass. Despite the pros (regular public nudity, some cuteness that doesn't come in on my other nights) it is, and legendarily has been, the most feared shift of the week. Here's why.

- Broadway babies mangling 'Suddenly Seymour'. I don't get it.
- Hordes of girls trolling for free drinks and taking up space nursing water
- It's loud as hell, dude. Especially when hearing 'Black Velvet' for the trillionth time.
- Why does some white-bread khaki slacks guy always have to do "Baby Got Back" at precisely 1:17am? (Although I secretly enjoy this part)
- Lots of underage/agressive/flat out nuts that we have to weed from the crowd.
- The pay doesn't match the hassle by a long long way.

Lets use tonight's nutbag as a stellar example. Some guy I hadn't seen before nursing beers at the bar, but you could just smell the crazy so neither of us working were really making conversation. Then I happened to wander out for a cig while he was out there. Now my outdoor smoking time is a cherished free moment, and you talk to me by invite only. I walked a couple of steps away, and he muttered at me 'Oh so I guess I'm nobody....again...'. OH-kay. He mustered up his courage and approached me.

- Hi, I'm Nikolai, Victor of the People
- Huh?
- Oh, that's the name on my birth certificate, I was named after a communist leader. You can just call me Nikolai though.
- Oh, thanks...
- Yeah, I'm from around {thank you for the super helpful information} but I live in Harlem now... you should check it out, I have a queen sized bed....

I don't even know what this meant. Did he grow up sleeping under bridges, so a bed is a matter of pride? Was it a come-on? WTF?

His credit card was declined in the end, and he tried to bargain his tab for a book of quotations on Buddhism. We took his guitar in lieu of payment, and he was pissed. So pissed that three hours later he was still sitting on the street across from the bar, waiting for a new bartender to start the morning shift so he could claim the guitar he 'forgot'. This dastardly plan he confided to my bouncer - who believe me looks exactly like a bouncer and nothing else.

Oh well, another night in karaoke hell is done.

Let's see if this sticks

I keep trying to catch up the last couple of months, but between apt. hunting and NOOOO INTERNET ACCESS this fell by the wayside. Settled now though so let's catch up.

FB - Wow, what a jerk. I had him dangling on the line a bit. But when he found out I stayed at The Ex's place a couple days when I had to move, he went nuts, calling me a slut. I couldn't even get mad 'cos it was at work, he's a semi-regular, and no=one knew we were hooking up; I had to tell him with a smile "I don't think you're in the right mood to be drinking". This was like 2 months ago, he kind of apologised and is back to being just another guy in the bar - albeit one who's seen me nekkid!

My Fake Boyf - Had to cut him off completely, and kind of cruelly. The text message declarations of love were out of control. I told him it would be kind of pathetic for his entire life to revolve around my bar, and it kind of calmed down a bit. However a possible new prospect just told me when he asked why I was off one night MFB said - Why, are you in love with her? and got all territorial - Oh holy crap he literally texted me right this minute saying 'I still luv you, do you still luv me?' We haven' had any outside work contact, I hardly speak to him at work anymore - I don't know what else to do.

Hot Teacher - My willpower lasted three days, and then we had lots and lots of awesome sex. However he is either an enormous asshole, or just the only guy I've ever dated who's been truly honest with me. More on him later.

So for the new stuff. I got ridiculously lucky on Craigslist. My sublet guy decided to come home early so I had to move mid-month and I hadn't even looked. I'm still unnerved by how well it came together. Everyone wanted like $900 to sleep in a closet, so I just posted an ad looking for a share. The first reply I got was the place I took. And it is AWESOME - doorman building with gym and sauna, washer dryer in the apt.!, private bathroom, walk-in closet, huge terrace with Manhattan/Triborough (I think; some bridge anyway) view - unbelievable. And the roommmate turned out to be one of my regulars' boss so she could give a glowing recommendation. And he's ahead chef at a Michelin starred restaurant - yum. (He's pretty cute too but there'll be no shenanigans, I love this place too too much.) I just moved in a week ago but everything's great so far. And it's weird, I feel like I have to act better to reflect my great living situation - dress better, better posture, less drunken idiocy? I don't know, it's all good anyhow.

Mwah ha ha!

I found a place to move to! It's only for two months but that gives me lots of time to look for a REAL new place, so awesome. It belongs to one of my regulars, he's going back to Montana for a couple of months. And even awesome-er, his company pays his rent, so it's free. And he has a Wii!

He also has an extremely sexy roommate... I have feeling he'll be coming up so lets call him Hot Teacher (HT). Yes I'm aware that's kind of an oxymoron, anyone in service industry will tell you we HATE teachers. But he is hot. So moving in prob not good, but the only other option I had on short notice were The Ex and My Fake Boyf - worse. HT hits on me all the time, tells me what an asshole he is when it comes to the ladeezzz, and macks on every single woman who ever walks into my bar. He's a jerk. I am so totally going to bang him it's ridiculous. Sure to end in tears..

It's nuts to me how boy crazy this whole blog has become! That's not at all who I think of myself as. But like I said, I lost a shitload of weight - I weigh less now than I did when I was twelve - so I've never dealt with this level of interest before. It's a novelty, I'm sure I'll get used to it. It sucks in a way, a lot of my girlfriends have moved home over last year or so, the climate not as friendly towards illegal Irish as it used to be. I used to make girlfriends in a snap, but it seems they're more receptive to the fat chick than the skinny top heavy one. I have guy friends, but there's always that undercurrent of sexual interest (it runs both ways, don't get me wrong. I think it takes at least two years to go away. Two of my best mates guys, and we have NO interest in each other - but in the early days whoever was drunkest would always hit on the other one). But there are certain things - like painfully large, um, endowments - i won't talk to a guy friend about. We can be explicit and whatever, but I'm not giving anyone a flipping inferiority complex.

Anyhow. That's me for today. Dude, I am so looking forward to moving. I didn't even realise how uneasy the last few months of silent animosity from the crazy roommate were making me. Now the prospect of one that I can watch a goddamn movie with, or share a bottle of crappy wine, or even just not feel so uncomfortable that I leave the house whenever they're home - I can't wait.

Sweet. Mother. Of. God.

Right well I clearly have pissed off someone up there, this week was INSANE. I still can't believe even the half of it looking back.
Here are the highlights.
There was a CRAZY bar fight at my place, I called 911 three times because I thought my security guy was getting killed. And my stupid security guy was the one who started it!

I had to call my cop connections, for the first time in my life, to squash it. And even he couldn't get rid of it.One of the fighters had shown me NY ID, that turned out to belong to her sister... I had to have a meeting with some scary Queens DA and kiss some ass.. I rocked it of course. I expect a marriage proposal from him within the month..


And in the most totally batshit insane development, my crazy roommate had a full on psychotic break and BROKE INTO MY ROOM to break shit... I was there and tried to calm her, just made her more crazy - then she decided she wanted me out of the country and called the fucking INS on me! This was over a pair of shoes left in the living room. INSANE. I had to leave at 4am with whatever I could carry and go back with a police escort to get the rest of my stuff. Maybe I should have seen it coming, she was always strange. But this was some serious off her meds schizo stuff.
Frightening.

To cap it all I stupidly hooked up with My Fake Boyf. I was stressed, he was there....whatever. I know it was a dumb DUMB move and he's totally sweating me again. Sigh.

I'm a big fan of 'do it for the story'. But can I make the choice? Will someone please stop the drama coming to me?

Oh NO! Ex Sex!

Everybody does it I suppose, but I'm so mad at myself.

I had plans to meet up with FB last Friday, and as I've still been bitchslapping him around and not giving it up, I knew he'd actually be there with bells on instead of calling two hours late to tell me he's on flipping LI. Then The Ex started texting me. Are you free tonight? (Nope, have plans.) Can you get out of them? (Not really, what's up?) I really need you. Broke up with Stupid New Girlf, need a friend.

If I'm totally honest I knew right then where the night was going to end up.

I dumped The Ex, but I was still totally devastated by the breakup. First Love and all that. He just kept fucking up, to the point where I think he was doing that cowardly guy thing of forcing me to dump him rather than him dumping me. He swears not though. Even after I broke up with him, we kept hanging out at least once a week, and that quickly turned into sleeping together, until we were basically dating again whilst still officially broken up. Until one day when he was coming to my house for a sleepover, he called me first and told me he had a date the next day. I was pissed. This guy has been coupled up since he was fifteen - if he had a date that meant within two weeks she'd be his new girlfriend. He'd been talking to her and calling her for two months whilst sleeping with me. I felt like I'd been dumped, even though we were officially off anyway... just blindsided.

I was right, the two of them got serious ridiculously fast. That's his m.o., after the first week we met I don't think we spent a night apart, and I've NEVER been like that with a guy before. My previous boyfriends tended to bitch they were forgetting what I looked like as they'd get to see me so little. To make matters worse, this new girl was a dope. She swears blind her name on her birth cert is Princess (um, no. It's not.) She's a freelance fashion consultant (read, unemployed, daddy has money). She's a 'practicing Wiccan' (yurk) - just the type of girl who makes me want to go for gender reassignment surgery. Our mutual friends hated her. The first time he took her to meet them she spent the entire night whining 'Baby, I'm cold.' 'Baby, it's too crowded in here.' 'Baby...' and not even attempting to make conversation with anyone else.

The Ex And I still spoke a lot - he called me at least twice a day, and this bothered her. It would drive me nuts too, if a new guy I was dating needed to talk to his ex that much. So in the interests of settling her mind I told him, you know, we're all grown-ups, let's meet up one night so she knows who you're talking to. We still move in the same social circles so we're bound to bump into each other eventually, lets do it properly.

I took FB along (our first date, incidentally) and I had him well prepped. I was so insecure about meeting her, I was expecting one of those Manhattan, ubergroomed, tiny little blond chicklets. And that I would look like a big hulking brown blob beside her. I did look fucking hot that night if I say so myself, And also I'm the skinniest I've been since I was about twelve - I lost 35lbs in last 4/5 months!- so I was feeling okay about myself. outside the concert venue me and FB were having a smoke and I saw The Ex come round the corner. I started to wave, he just widened his eyes and gave a tiny shake of his head. Then Princess came careening around the corner, wearing a tiny tee that said 'Hands Off My Man' (what are we, fucking fourteen? Also HE calls me, I don't call him). FB, god love him, said 'Jesus is that her? She's like a...a plumber! Oh he fucked up. He gave up you for Super Mario over there?' Hee. This is why I still forgive FB his subsequent blah behaviour - I needed him then and he came through.

I think any girl will sympathize with me, and I guess guys too - you always want to be better/cuter/funnier/smarter than your ex's new squeeze. 'Princess' WAS teeny and blond - but also built like a brick shithouse and just kind of raggedy. I was definitely hotter. And not as insane/immature. The Ex was probably right to keep us apart, if she was jealous without meeting me she'd be nuts if she actually did. Jesus I sound like a conceited bitch, huh?

Anyhoo. He broke up with her Friday over her general insecurity/insanity, I cancelled my plans and took him for dinner, we got wasted and slept together. He was the best sex I've had which is why my will of steel (ha) went out the window, but I truly regret it. The dope will most likely be back with her within the week, and I also don't want him thinking there's even a small chance we'll get together again. I'm loving my skinny single life right now.

I'll be 26 on Saturday. Maybe once I've officially crossed into "late" twenties I'll start making better decisions....

My Roommate Sucks

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This good for nothin' mop will hype you for your gold

Hee.

Reasons that I am American

The first man from my village who moved to the States called home about a week later with a ridiculous fake Yank accent. This was at least 40 years ago, but is still the talk of the town. When I was moving over here at least 10 bajillion people (yes, that's right, more than the population of the planet) said, 'Jaysus, ye won't be like auld Jimmy McCreefe will yeh?' or 'Give it a week and "sidewalk" and "garbage" will be coming out of yer arse' - the thoughts of that nearly made me stay home - or simply 'If yeh start spouting that Yank shite we'll feckin' disown yeh.'

Like a lot of new New Yorkers I ended up living in a nabe heavily populated by transplants from the old country - so much so that I was viewed with suspicion and mistrust because of my British accent, and was constantly having to whip out my passport to prove my blood ran emerald green. My accent over time became more Irish, partially due to the constant exposure, mostly because as a bartender it's good for business. (Apart from the six months I worked in Williamsburg where I totally played up my cockney, they lurve the Brits.) But now I live in an American nabe with a roommate from the MidWest and a 99% American clientele. 8 of the last 10 people I texted were American.

Six years in, I was just talking to my little brother and he told me he was birded off. Huh? He then told me I didn't understand because I'm a total Yank now. He is correct, and this is why.
- I invite friends to the 'bar for a beer' not the 'pub for a pint'.
- I no longer think a man with a wineglass in his hand is automatically gay.
- I haven't been in an area of green larger than Central Park in donkeys years.
- If a bar tried to charge me extra for Coke to go in my Jack I would break shit up.
- I threaten to break shit up.
- I use MySpace 14 times as much as I use Bebo.
- I go on 'dates'. Irish people do NOT do this.
- Apartment, deli, garbage, cellphone, store, cocktail, soda, cop, retarded... all part of my daily vocab, all words that will get me laughed out of Ballyoblarney.
- I think $200 is an acceptable amount to spend on shoes, purses or a night on the beer.
- I just said purse instead of handbag, and on the beer instead of on the lash.
- I no longer giggle at the use of 'pants' for non-knickers items of clothing. I will always find the American use of 'fanny' hilarious though.
- I don't know what's happening in Eastenders or Home and Away.
- I know that Victoria's Secret kind of sucks, actually. At home we imagine it to be a magical wonderland of knicker-related fabulosity.
- I haven't said 'knickers' in so long that now I can't seem to stop.
- I have never spent a Euro.
- I say ass more than arse, even though arse is clearly better.
- I haven't used the word 'cunt' as a term of endearment in a long time - really, it's acceptable at home as long as preceded and followed by 'ya' - "C'mere, yacuntya!'
- I no longer think it's gay if a guy has candles in his home. Well, not TOTALLY gay.
- I watch way more baseball than soccer. And I say soccer instead of football.
- I have no food in my refrigerator and don't think it's ridiculously extravagant/slatternly/showoffy to eat out for every meal.
- Square hamburgers no longer freak me out.

So that's it. I am a Yank. Knickers knickers knickers.

Yum

I saw him last month actually, walking down 8th Ave across from Scruffy Duffy's. You know how when you see a celeb in NY they are usually recognisable by the palpable aura of 'please please don't notice me' they emanate? The Hoff was, predictably, the opposite - sauntering down the street, hitting on the ladies, shooting at the guys with his imaginary finger guns...He was one small step removed from yelling 'I AM THE HOFF MOTHERFUCKERS! BOW BEFORE MY TANGERINE SKIN AND RADIOACTIVE TEETH!' It was the most awesome thing I have seen this year. Or probably ever.

Parades of retardery

I'm sorry, but it's my current favourite phrase. And tonight truly was one.

Warning - bitchery, of interest to no-one but myself.

Goddamn Salvation Army was sitting at the bar when I walked in. We haven't seen him in a few months, thought we were through; this guy fantasizes about being military/fire dept when really he's a (whatever professiom you hate the most) fron fucking NJ - not that I have that much against NJ, but how the fuck did he end up a regular in my bar? I was working with the New Girl for first time, and she was crazy flirtatious as is her style - I told her she would hate him within 90 mins. And, as always, I was correct. The idiot managed to tell me that whilst in Germany last week (BUH-leeeve) that he wasn't allowed to leave his (imaginary) base as the terror alert, on him personally, was more than red. WTF? But I am down with the idea of people wanting to shoot this guy, he will NEVER shut the fuck up already. With his fake and boring stories about being in service. Come on, if you're making it up at least make it interesting and dramatic you boring fuck... Jeez, I guess I'm feeling particularly venomous.But I am super stressed.

.

So again I would like to point out I LOVE my job and my customers. But it's usually the bad stuff you need to get off your chest, which is why I end up ranting and raving so much. Part of the night was hilarious, I brought water pistols in and we had a massive staff v customer water fight between 3 and 4am. And one of the guys left us this which was hee-larious. And New Girl knows how to work a crowd, I was useless after the cell pic incident but she hustled and we made pots and pots of cash. Still, it's six am, and I am hopping the walls.

Diet Coke Plus!

Seriously, Diet Coke Plus is probably the best idea ever. Now the deluded souls who want to fool themselves into thinking Diet is an acceptable substitute for delicious full sugar, full calorie goodness - or indeed that Coke of any kind is worthy of licking 7up's balls - can get some niacin, B12, B6, zinc and magnesium with their beverage. Yum! Take that Vitamin Water! Also, my friends across the pond tell me there's a big Coke boycott after an 'expose' on the 'news' that Dasani (Coke brand bottled water) is - brace yourself - tap water run through a Brita.

The bottled water thing is amazing really. 10 years ago only the gays and the french (two pretty much interchangeable terms in the UK anyway)did the bottle thing. Today I woke up (ahem) a little dehydrated, and rather than staggering the 10 feet to the kitchen in my skivvies, I went through the whole getting dressed nonsense and walked an ENTIRE BLOCK to my deli to get water. Tap water never even occurred to me.

So what was with all the people in my deli buying beer at 11.30am? 9pm, yes. 7am - usually a bad idea, usually have had too much already, but sure. But lunchtime? And gay beer too - one of the guys bought a six pack of Smirnoff Ice.

In fact I think this week was official gay drink week and someone forgot to tell me. The following is a list of drinks I have served - to guys - this week.
Smirnoff Ice
Pina Colada
Malibu Baybreeze
Baileys
Tequila Sunrise
White Russian
Malibu Pineapple
Amaretto Sour
Midori Sour
Some disgusting concoction of milk, Kahlua and Baileys
Santorum on the rocks (okay not really)
Gay gay gay.And can anyone order a White Russian without at least acknowledging The Big Lebowsi? Well apparently they can but it makes me hate them a bit.



I just found this pic on my cousin's Bebo page. Apparently you give this guy $50 and he'll show up like this - at any bar in town. Awesome. Too bad my cousin lives in Oz, I totally want that guy at my next night out. - This is from my high school friend's page. Fucking scary, right? If I knew my kid could look like that, even through the wonders of photoshop, I'd never sleep again.

Just did the 'what the fuck did I do last night' text check. Not bad at all, but apparently I gave my number to someone (maybe the random guy holding me up in the pic below?) as I have a couple of missed calls and a text from a strange number. The text is Your legs speak for themselves. Sigh, I wish they did. And I wish what they said was, go home already, you drunken retard.

Here is a photo from last night

Yup, that's me. And nope, I don't remember.

Breaking up is apparently contagious

I kicked The Ex to the curb about four months ago now for the following reasons.

1. I make a lot more money, cash, than he does, and he was treating mine as his. Now that was fine being in love and all, but it got to the point where he was spending about $500 a week of mine on the four nights I work, and completely unable to explain it. Not going to bars, he doesn't do coke...so where was the money going?

2. I found a list of girls he'd banged, written at least a year after we got together. It was explicit, gave marks out of ten with comments like 'sweet fuckable ass' and 'fattish waste(sic)'. Luckily for him I wasn't on that list. Unluckily, his best female friend was. And she got nine out of ten. He met this girl the day before he met me, and always swore he'd never slept with her. He went out drinking with her and back to hers on a regular basis. I am not jealous or possesive, but if I knew he'd slept with her there is no fucking way I'd have let him in her apartment drunk at 2am. He cried and begged, and I chose to believe his story he slept with her the night they met and never again since. It was over really at this point, but I stuck it out a little longer.

3. I began looking for a new apartment, knowing we were doomed, and I noticed someone was visiting the 'Casual Encounters' on Craigslist. So I checked the history on our computer. And I found his ad on AdultFriendFinder looking for an older woman for NSA hookup. Moron. Who does that on a computer they share with their girl? Or doesn't bother to delete the history? Anyway, bye bye. I found out where all the cash was going too - phone sex lines running up his cellphone bill. He tried to guilt me into sticking around to help him through his 'sex addiction'. Um, thanks, but no.

We are still friends though, he was my first love blah blah so I didn't just cut the ties. He still hits me up for a 'loan' (read - gift of free money) at least once a month too.

So since we broke up, every single girl I work with has ditched their guys too, at the rate of at least one breakup a fortnight. I just got a call from the last coupled up waitress saying she's done with her guy for good. While this has made work resemble a therapy group for too, too long, it is also awesome. Single girl summer ahoy! I can't wait...

I'm still drunk from last night

And that totally sucks, as I have to be in work in 90 minutes. Also my bedroom floor is covered in a hail of quarters. Where did I get so many? And WTF was I doing with them?

Taking Retards to the Zoo

I was ambushed by cocktail waitress the second I walked in. 'Hey, sugartits, the ladies want two apple martinis and an orgasm.' Huh, don't we all...you know, if by 'apple martini' you mean 'real drink'. But the first order of the night being for gayass drinks is never a good sign. And sure enough, within a hour I was kicking out 'Overly friendly and inappropriately touchy-feely random', a customer got into a fight with a bike delivery guy outside, unfortunately whilst I was out there smoking and obliged to intervene, rain killed my trade, and I was full of waterdrinking campers for the Yankee/Red Sox game. Despite all this, not a bad night. I was ON FORM bitches! Scored some new regulars with my charm, wit and fabulosity, caught up with some who've been MIA for a while, had some chuckles, made some dough. I am a happy bunny.



Is it just me, or are the Red Sox the acceptable hipster baseball team? It seems like 90% of my ironically full-bearded, guitar toting, Brooklyn/Sierra/Smithwicks drinkers are Red Sox fans. I guess it makes sense with the whole not winning for a bajillion years thing... But shouldn't true hipsters be rooting for, I don't know, the Montreal farm team or something? I use true hipsters as opposed to the truly cool, who of course root for the Mets.

Bad bars make me sad

I recently moved to the neighbourhood I work in, and I'm hunting for a new local so I don't end up drinking in my own place all the time. There are so many bad bars around here it's unbelievable. There's the nearby dive that, whilst I like dives, is so scuzzy I want to shower in bleach after just walking by. There's the local hotspot that has a, well, generous ID policy - I feel like I'm prom chaperon every time I go. There's the local where you can never get a drink because the bartender is always sharking on whatever young blond is in that night. But the two I tried last night took the biscuit.

My regular told me about a new place, 30 tap beers, great food, near the movie theatre. Sounds fab. I checked out the menu before going in, and they offer peppercorn sauce with burgers - I'm sold. Everything is better with peppercorn sauce. My Fake Boyf got there first and ordered a burger. I arrived, with a raging thirst of course and only 30 minutes to slake it before the movies. There's no-one behind the bar.....still no-one........no-one....'maybe the bartender's actually cooking your burger'... After ten minutes he wanders in from wherever, pours me a beer and a Jager, wanders off again. I'm saying to My Fake Boyf, I like this place, wonder why it's not busier? I didn't like the beer I ordered, and plus, only half an hour before the movie!, so I pawned it off on My Fake Boyf and decided to order a Manhattan. The other bartender comes behind bar, I try to catch her eye but no luck, she left again and sat in a couch making out with her guy. Bartender 1 is nowhere to be seen. I wait and wait, timing it this time. After 12 minutes I went for a smoke. I get very antsy and irritable when made to wait for liquor, nicotine was necessary to stop me from breaking some shit. I went back inside, waited some more....Hey, a bartender sighting! He took my order, then - hey, bartender 2's back there too! So they decided to have a little chat about something whilst not making my goddamn drink already. From deciding to order to getting drink took 24 minutes. That is ridiculous. But now I know why the place isn't busy. I won't be back. Plus if somebody orders Jager at my bar I know there's a good chance they're a fast drinking lush like myself, and I'm all over them. As a customer I was thirsty and annoyed, as a pro I was baffled. Someone wants to spend money in a place but can't get service - with two bartenders working? Place is doomed. Also it was a terrible Manhattan, tasted inexplicably like a Bloody Mary.

Second bad bar defies belief. It's a local dive. People were smoking indoors at 9pm which is the true dive bar test in my opinion. If you don't make people go outside at least until 11 then you really just don't care. No Maker's Mark, okay it's a fairly standard liquor but I'll make do with Jack. This is what knocked me on my ass. The bartender (Irish, mid 40s so clearly either a lifer or an owner) asked me "What's a Manhattan?' What. The. Fuck. I'm sure she doesn't make many, I can't remember the last time I made one other than for myself, but come on. It's like Bartender 101. It gets worse though, she was baffled when I told her sweet vermouth, apparently never heard of it. Then when I asked for a plastic cup for cigs, she handed me a highball glass off the shelf and told me to use that. The same glass that some poor fool is drinking vodka tonic out of today. Come on, even dive bars have to have some standards. I had some jerk kid the other day who kept putting cigarettes out in his drink glass despite having an ashtray right in front of him. So I made his next drink in the same glass, butts and all.

My bar really is the best bar in the neighbourhood. That's great, and makes me proud, but it sucks when I need somewhere to do some incognito boozing. Guess I'll still be hanging around the old nabe a lot.

Speaking of Stuff that Sucks... My Love Life

So I was wasted again last night, but, you know, wasted like a normal person not like a homeless man. And I brought somebody home! And then changed my mind and kicked them out 15 minutes later! I suck!

The Ex flaked on me - his brother bought a boat. Just think about that for a second. A boat. Bought by a construction worker. In Queens. It makes all kinds of no sense. Anyway they had to go pick it up and park it or whatever the hell it is you do with boats. My friends just opened a wine bar (ick) on the UES (double ick) so I decided to show some love. Asked FB if he wanted to come along but he was at Met game. I was pleasantly surprised, not the parade of retardery I expected (although of course, this being Friday, the entire UES stuck in traffic on the LIE) but a nice, mostly service industry crowd. Food was good, wine was great. I'd told FB I'd meet him after game, but no answer when I called him about 11:30.

So I took myself back to my bar. We got a mention in Time Out New York this week and I wanted to show it off. Of course who is standing outside but FB. I truly don't get this guy, his entire being lights up when I walk into a room but he still acts all meh about me... maybe he truly is emotionally unavailable. We chatted, but I started hanging out with a new guy I find cute. I'm going with the unavailable and apparently a total bitch thing. FB was leaving and I was chatting to Long Island Guy (LIG). He texted me just after he walked out asking me to come over. I replied basically, nope, you had your chance earlier, now I'm hitting on someone else. Wow. I am a BEEEYATCH. But again, apparently it's working, as I got a message from him at 9am (and who is up at 9am on Saturday? I told you, OCD) asking to meet up with me after my date tonight...
This is a pretty apt description of what goes on with me and FB.



So tonight's date is with my fake boyf (MFB). He is nuts about me, but I am not into him and he knows it. He's a handy movie date though, until about once a month he tells me he loves me via text and I have to shut him down. I was kind of crushing on him for a while, then we slept together. And it was Not. Good. He's the one I was whinging about a few days ago who somes into the bar and glowers at every guy I have the cheek to talk to. I was considering cutting off the movie dates, but he's unemployed and a bit lonely too, so I'd feel bad stopping. Maybe I'll hook up with FB after and have hot, emotionally unavailable, no kissing sex. My love life sucks ass.

Speaking of MySpace - stuff that sucks

When you send a friend request to someone you were close to in high school, and they don't add you. Teen angst all over again. I thought you were my boy, Gibs!

When someone you've been casually dating and went to dinner with three damn days ago decides changing his status to 'In a relationship' is the best way to let you know he won't be calling anymore.



When someone you've been crushing on for a while adds you, and you see that they blog, a lot, pseudo intellectual lameness with titles like 'Ulysses. A Beach Towel. And The Freudian Concept of Saturday Night.' which totally puts you off them. I guess better early than later right?

When you have regrettable ex sex after he cries on your shoulder 'cos new relationship doesn't work out, only to have him go home and 2 hours later comment on the supposedly gone girls page on how much he loves her. Not that that's happened to me or anything.

When your exboyfriends new girls name is 'Puppycakes O'Cutepink' and her interests are 'Pink EVERYTHING!, Paris Hilton, giggles, cuteness' and other ick, and that she's a practicing Wiccan. You think jeez, I dated someone who'll date that? Time to re-evaluate my taste in men.

Knowing far too much about exboyfriends

I guess all those MySpace posts calling me evil have a point...

Jesus. Last night turned into a clusterfuck of unholy proportions.

Met my buddy Marine at my bar to pregame. We always do this, and usually it's the best. Unfortunately last night we both had our drinking hats on. Approximately 47,000 Jacks and Jagers later, we show up at the game an hour late and totally out of our trees. All I remember is asking him 'What's the score? Boo.....What's the score? Boo....What's the score?' You get the idea. Oh and twice forgetting where we were sitting after bathroom/cigarette breaks and him having to come find me. Hee. Bet he had an awesome time. Which, I found out today when I apology-texted him, got even awesomer -

NO NEED FOR SORRY... I BURNT DOWN MY KITCHEN. FIRE DEPT AND ALL.

Holy crap. He woke up to a horde of sexy, sexy firefighters (sigh, I wish that was how I woke up every day) and an apartment so filled with smoke he couldn't see his hand in front of his face. They wanted to take him in for smoke inhalation, but he toughed it out. The apartments a disaster, bad smoke damage, so he has to crash with the parentals on the island for a while. I guess that's what happens when you party with the pros...

Incidentally I am 0-4 for Met games attended this year. Time to start staying home, I'm clearly a jinx.

I have been halfheartedly hooking up with this guy (FB) for a while. I say halfheartedly because clearly neither of us is that into it. He's a regular, a bit OCD suit and tie Blackberry addict guy whilst I am a l lazy spaz and averse to hooking up with customers. But I shamelessly whored myself out for transport and free hotel room for an out of town gig I wanted to see, and whilst nothing happened that weekend, we got on very well and I decided to give him a whirl. He's also a very private guy so I knew we could do it without the whole goddamn bar finding out. But, first off, he doesn't like to kiss. I mean come on, everyone likes to kiss! And sex with minimal or no making out makes me feel like a hooker, and not in a good way. Despite this, I drunk texted him whenever I was horny, not having any other prospects at the moment. This was problem three. The drunk text kind of annoyed him (I say some very random stuff in drunken text. I also have a tendency to send them to the wrong person, which luckily hasn't gotten me in trouble - yet) and we weren't hanging out together at all, just 2am hookups.

I kind of grew to like him a bit, and the fact that were only honoring the fuck side of our fuckbuddy pact and not the buddy part - like, can we go for a beer together sometime or what? - was irritating. Actually it's probably why I like him, emotional unavailability is hot y'all. He was decidedly meh about me. I am saying this fully aware of what a douchebag it makes me sound, but the guy should have been a little happier to be banging a hot piece of ass like me! So I pulled the plug. Not officially or anything, just stopped calling/texting.

And it seems to have done the trick. He texted me last night - I hear you were at the bar, still in neighbourhood? Whatevs, drunk and horny I presumed, but wierd as it was always me who initiated contact. I was toasted and at home so I didn't reply til today - Sorry I missed you, called it a night early. He called me back in a millisecond(!) to let me know he's around all weekend if I want a beer. Huh. And also, play the game, dude. Who says they're free all weekend? I'd make stuff up if I had to. Actually, I made up dinner plans for tonight on that call (I'm actually hanging with The Ex, not a good thing to tell the new). Anyway, this is a radical departure from normal. We only communicate by text, only at 2am, and only when one of us is drunk. I guess unavailability IS hot.

So we're going for a beer tonight or tomorrow. I'm still leaning towards just being friends. Hell, maybe he is too and just wants to make it official. We shall see.

BTW, someone at Time Out New York loves my bar! Good, I just wish I knew who it was. Time for some supersleuthing methinks.

Cops, Crazies and Still More Frat Boys

You know, I set this up this up to give myself something to do when I get home at 5am, rather than stalking myspace crushes and leaving them half drunk, vaguely insulting comments - posting at 5.17am seems to really scare the 9-5ers - so I really thought it would be more work related hence the name. I think Monday just kicked my ass - my ring was higher in first hour of shift than it usually is the entire night - and everybody seemed to forget how the fuck to behave! It was like bartending to a class of 5 year olds, you know, if 5 year olds drank outside of Michael Jacksons private jet. This was one of those weeks when work felt like actual work rather than just good times.

So a little late, but can I just say I HATE YOU NEW YORK POST FROM LAST SUNDAY! How is it 'news' that bars allow people to smoke late at night? Anybody who drinks outside of Happy Hour knows that, and those that don't know don't need to. I get the Manhattan thing, too many stupid lifestyle Nazis, but leave my beloved outer boroughs alone! Everywhere's been running scared for the last week and it sucks. Whatevs, things will be back to normal by next week but boo anyway.

The Frat Boy cuz of my regular was back Monday, and ended up downstairs AGAIN with a different chick! This time I busted them as the bar was packed and we needed the restroom, but jeez. This guy, while cute, looks 12 i.e. cute in an adorable puppy kind of way, not in a 'take me now' way... maybe I just like my guys old and balding and therefore so, so grateful.


In a related note, had two hots girls totally macking on each other @ the bar last night, I wander off to serve someone and while my back is turned they disappear. Huh, guess they couldn't wait any longer and took off, I muse... hold on a second, where are their drinks? Goddammit! Yup, in the downstairs bathroom getting nekkid. What is the deal with taking your flipping drink with you when your hooking up? Call me naive, the only bar bathroom I ever had sex in was my own, after hours, with my LTR of the time, so maybe I just don't get it. I just know while having hot monkey sex reaching for my beverage, alcoholic or not, is never a priority. Generally I'll have reached for far to many beverages beforehand though... if you need it during, you haven't had close to enough before. Also, dimwits, it makes it impossible for me NOT to bust you (if I'm not playing favourites of course), unless I want to look like a blind stupid fool. Which I do not. Leave your stupid drink on the bar and I can pretend I think you're just outside smoking or something. Jeez.


Last night some cops from the local precinct stopped by for a beer. One of them was so, so cute. And single. And interested. Unfortunately his douchebag partner, Mr. Gigantotwat, was also single, and interested. And HOUNDING me. I could not get away from him for a second. One of those guys who thinks loud and persistent = funny and interesting. The cute one and I just had to settle for exasperated looks and sending 'shut the fuck up' thoughtwaves that didn't work until they swept him off to some strip club. Sigh. I hate it when the fine thing is outshouted by the macho one, happens way too often. Come back and see me alone! I am, as a general and occasionally (ahem) broken rule, against hooking up with customers. Either they turn into stalkers and your heart sinks when they come in, because they'll just sit in a corner glowering at every guy you talk to, or smile at, or you know, walk past; or it inevitably ands and I may lose a customer. But cops never hang out in the precinct they work in, the were just showing us some love, so he doesn't count okay! Oh well, I'll probably never see him again. Unless... the precinct is only 4 blocks from my house, I'm sure I can find 40 reasons a day to wander by until I accidentally bump into him.....

Two little rants.

1. What is it with the guys lately who, when I'm behind the bar and I'm talking to them, respond in grunts, but as soon as 4am hits they run over to join me and unleash the floodgates on whatever shite they've gone through that day? Therapy when I'm on the clock only please guys! And by the way, I'm counting here! Don't get whiny I'm not paying you attention, I tried to for last 3 hours! I can get my end of shift done in 15 minutes if you leave me alone, closer to 45 if I keep losing count because you need advice/attention/rehab. It doubly mystifies me because I work weeknights, I love dedicated drinkers and just off shift service industry regulars (who doesn't). I leave the weekend underage/karaoke/amateur hell to my younger, less burnt out coworkers. This means that usually between two and four am, there is enough space at the bar that if you pick your seat carefully we can talk in private, and I will have enough time to devote significant attention to your woes, certainly more than when doing paperwork.

2. I love my job, I love my bar, and I love 90% of my customers. Why oh why is it always the other 10% who happen to be wandering down the street when I go outside for a cigarette, and decide to stop for a chat about how men just want to fuck everything all the time (eew, shut up, you're older than my dad). Or how that bitch Miranda from Burger King told Tom you're in the mob and now your cousin's going too.. whatever I don't care, shut up too. You, my friend, are crazier than a bag of frogs. Or just stand all up in my space, stare creeeeepily whilst saying 'Well' every minute or so. Leave me alone! I'm begging you.

Oh and that barbecue I went to last Sat? My rookie cop friend texted me the next day saying 'Feel like crap. Good day though. House a mess.' Well obviously. Last night I ran into his roommates. Holy shit. Somebody got sick on their neighbours front doorstep, punched a hole in their ceiling(!) uprooted a tree in their front yard (WTF, was this thing attended by giants?), and that was just the uncensored stuff. I guess my friend is master of the understatement.

That's it. Off to the Met game, yay!

My Gay Ex

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All this frat chat reminds me of my gay ex-boyfriend...jeez haven't thought about him in ages.
Me and this guy hung out in the same bar every Friday, and I thought he was pretty damn cute. He was always in the same raggedy green sweater, and I had no idea what he did for a living apart from picking up the odd bartending shift there. It's totally against my code to date a bartender, but he wasn't a REAL bartender, just filling in - or so I rationalised.


Anyway. It started the week I bought myself some princess rollerskates, you know, pink wheels and white boots, so cute! I went outside,put them on, and immediately slapped myself off the sidewalk - to the applause of some porchsitting pensioner. Jerk. It hurt like hell, I thought I broke my wrist, but it ebbed after a while so I forgot about.


That Friday was the big night with my gay ex (MGE). He was a little drunk and finally got the courage when we were outside smoking to tell me
'I think you're really cute.'
'Really? Oh, I think you're really cute too!' (Okay I was drunk too)
'Really? That's so cool. I think you're really cute too!'
And we went on in this nauseating vein for a while, believe me. So I gathered my friends, and he gathered his, and we hit another bar. At some point I was making out with him outside a bar and I heard my friend come outside and start all hah ha, kissy kissy. So I turned to give my friend a well deserved slap upside the head, but he moved and I backhanded the doorframe with my wrist.
'Oh. My. God. MGE I just broke my arm.'
'Don't be stupid. That's impossible.'
'It HURTS!'
'Jager will fix that up nicely. Back to the bar!'
MGE came home with me that night, we were both WASTED. Woke up in the morning, made out a little bit, he tried to get a little boobage but I wouldn't let him. NB this is the most action I ever got from him. My arm was fucking killing, after a while I was like, get off me, I'm going to the ER. He teased me about being a big wussy girl.


I was almost happy when the doc said 'Yup, it's a broken wrist alright' (original damage on my pretty princess skates, made worse at bar) just to prove all those doughnuts from the night before wrong. Six weeks off work wasn't so cool though.


I went to the bar that night to show off my war wounds. Of course everybody knew MGE and I had hooked up, and there was predictable wife beating slagging. Which he totally took to heart, he got mad when I told his cuz he pushed me downstairs when I wouldn't give it up... which was bad I suppose but jeez dude, he knew I was joking.
TBC...28-May-07 4:02:26 PM


I ended up at his in the city that night. For a guy who, as far as I knew, survived off of fill-in bartending, his apartment was, well, too nice. Kickass view of the bridges over the East River, huge, just way out of what I presumed was his league. I liked it though - not enough books maybe but what was there was good, just the right amount of boy mess, and he had a great junior school photo in prominent display, where he looked like someone had just farted a decomposing body in front of him. Awesome. I presumed parental cash - maybe it's a European thing but over there people who grew up with bajillions often dress like this guy i.e. like hoboes. And as I've mentioned before, as long as a guy buys me a beer once in a while I don't really care what he's got.


So for a few weeks we fell into the habit of hanging out a couple times a week, usually in bars, usually with at least one friend/relative of MGE. He was affectionate and all in public... but at home, nada. Maybe a halfhearted kiss but he never tried any more. It was frustrating, I have needs godammit! Also if I stayed at his we'd always have to go somewhere early morning where he knew someone - in retrospect this screams LOOK, an actual girl! Stayed over! He did mention some day job but I didn't recognise the company, and he never seemed in a hurry to take off when I stayed over midweek.


Then. One Saturday morning we woke up in my place. I was putting the moves on(!) but MGE made me get up and come to the city as friends were in town. Back to his. He goes to change, comes out of the bedroom..... oh my God. Hair with, I don't know, stuff in it. A PINK, popped collar polo. Khakis. And the crowning touch, a sun visor sported backwards and upsidedown! WTF? You're a preppy in disguise! I should have just gone home then, but I went out with him and his friends, who were all in the same uniform and all behaved as the uniform suggests. It was a strange experience to walk into bars and have the bartender in damage control mode from the second they saw us because they knew the guys would act like douches and sadly they did. MGE was actually a nice guy but this crowd. And again, all over me in public but nothing in our alone moments. That's when I figured out I was his beard. Clearly this crowd would not be cool with a guy who likes guys. And that was the end of MGE.


The day job by the way turned out to be some ridiculous Wall Street bajillionaire job.


In the interests of fairness I want to acknowledge maybe he just wasn't that into me... but come on. What guy has a rather fabulous young lady like myself stay over multiple times and do nothing?

29-May-07 2:45:51 PM

Frat Magnet

(Sorry, I've been singing that to the 'Rock Lobster' tune all day...)

Okay, once was fun as I haven't experienced it before, but shoot me if I've begun attracting these people! (Although I suppose yesterdays guy is more accurately a preppy, but the whole atmosphere there was frat).


My regular brought his relative in last night for birthday celebration. He was a nice kid, to me anyway, but...FRAT BOY. Even my regular (let's call him Peter) who usually dresses, well - are we still allowed to say metrosexual? -was rocking the backwards baseball cap. I nearly dropped dead when I saw that on him. His cuz was sporting the same but looked way more at home in it and a tee with slogan 'Think Long And Hard'. Nice. They were telling me about his birthday party the night before. The guy lives in a converted frat house upstate with a working fully stocked bar, beer on tap included, a pool, 2.5 acres of land, and shares with 5 firefighters. Now that's a party house. The party highlights included 20 kegs in a refrigerated truck ( and to think I was excited about my first), a couple having sex on a lawn chair in full view of everyone until the chair broke, and a roommate getting so drunk and aggressive he broke down a locked door, gave two people black eyes, and was asked to move out the next morning. Woo!


It was quiet, holiday weekend, but I had two girls at the bar, one was pretty drunk. She kept interrupting her conversation to yell 'DWIGHT YOAKAM' at me whenever I walked by. I haven't the foggiest why but it was flipping annoying. Peter and the cuz made their moves... Eventually the cuz and drunk girl disappear downstairs to the bathroom. Now I always break this kind of stuff up, but yeah I play favourites, and Peter's one of my faves. So I pretended not to notice his cuz get a little birthday action. After they were gone for a few I noticed the guy brought his goddamn beer down with him! Awesome. That's dedication, let nothing interrupt your quality beer time!


Wow. I didn't mean for this to be all about the frat boys but that's just the way my weekend turned out. Forgive me for finding this so interesting/amusing but it's pretty alien to me. I did grow up with 'the Lads' which was all about beer, bitches and your boyeezz, but I was honorary female member so...THAT'S why I love this crap, it reminds me of my misspent teenage years! Hanging around with the Lads though, and hearing how they spoke about birds they pulled, is the reason I stayed a virgin til I was 19 and safely stateside...

Enough. I'm getting far too serious. Here's hoping for some shenanigans tonight!

I am so totally a Yank

Went to two slightly wierd and uncomfortable parties yesterday. The second was a wedding party for two regulars I don't know very well, civilised, not too exciting. The first though may well have been the crowning achievement of my six years in the US - my first where I was the only Irish person there, MY FIRST KEG! WOO!, and my first beer pong! So American I can hardly stand it y'all.


I was even hit on by some overgrown frat dude (pastel polo - from Burberry no less - popped collar and all) in the following manner.
'You're Irish? Cool, me too, my last name's O'Neill.'
'You think I'm goodlooking? I'm huge too. Huge.'
'I'm on track to make a million this year.'
I'm not kidding, these were the first three sentences this asshat spoke to me. Still at least he was speaking to me - I only knew the three guys who threw it. There were about 30 frat boys and rookie cops, and about six girlfriends. And me, apparently the only single girl there. There was only so much babysitting the hosts could do, and the girls were fine but not too friendly. The guys were mostly taken up with the beer pong league, it was early i.e. male bonding time. I left before it got late i.e. bro, are there any chicks at this thing or what time. I meant to come back after showing face at the second. Come on, I was the only girl and rookie cops - yum! Not to date maybe but there were some fine looking boys at that barbecue... However didn't eat all day as I am a moron and the margaritas I was drinking knocked me on my ass.


About frat dude - that money thing drives me nuts. I can pay my own way thank you, it is the biggest turn off when some twat tries to impress with his salary. My friend is a social worker, he's cute, funny and blah blah blah, and when women hit on him in the bar he says 90% of the time their eyes glaze over and they're on to the next victim when they realise he'll never make more than 50 thou. O'Neill there, when his words didn't make me drop my knickers immediately, asked me why Irish girls don't like American guys. We do, sweetie, we just don't like scumbags in general and YOU in particular. (Guess where he lives? UES, what a shocker.) Rather awesomely, his friend wandered over at this point and told him 'She's Irish? You're shit out of luck, dude, they don't care about money, they're all about the personality'. Hee, even his friends know he won't get laid on charm alone.