NYC-Mira

New York City has a unique way of exacting a toll from visitors whether they want to pay or not. You can kid yourself and say "I'm going to go for the weekend but will take it easy, nothing crazy" but NYC doesn't play by those rules. It's going to get its pound of flesh one way or another. Last weekend was no different, I went up to hang out with some friends and as per usual all hell broke loose.

Side Note:
Last week I considered the ways in which I could get up to NYC. Train round trip was $230, a flight was $248, and I figured between gas and parking it would cost me about $150 to drive up. However, I wasn't too excited about driving because it's a pretty shitty ride, so I scratched that. Then my sister suggested the Bolt Bus, which was $46 round trip. I was skeptical but for that price how can you not give it a shot? So, Friday afternoon I skipped out of work early and caught a 12:30 bus which got me into the city right at 5:30, which wasn't too shabby.

Friday night I stayed with one of my sisters who lives in the city (with her four children). We had dinner, watched the Yankees get bitch slapped by the Rangers, then hit the hay early.

Saturday afternoon I met C-roc, my brother, some of his friends, and a couple of my college pals in the city to watch football and drink our body weight in over priced beer. We bounced around the city, moving from dive bar to dive bar until my brother and his crew had to head home. C-roc was supposed to bail with them but made a (poor) last minute decision to stick around. I had loose plans to crash at my buddy Junior's house for the night, but Uncle Charlie had also left me a key to his apartment.

C-roc and I drank our way down the west side of the city. By 8pm I was mildly out of control from a near lethal combination of Miller Lite and Jim Beam. As we left our third bar I informed C-roc that we needed to eat something or very bad things would happen. He agreed so I said "this looks like a nice place". I don't know the name of the restaurant, but it was a very fancy white table cloth affair. C-roc and I barged through the door and the maitre d' was obviously skeptical. He made a half-hearted attempt at seating us, pratically unable to hide his contempt, but I breezed past him and made my way to the kitchen. I walked through the double swinging doors to the kitchen and went over to the line where I informed the chef "I'm going to whip up a couple of sandwiches for my buddy and I, this will only take a minute." While this was going on C-roc was in the dining room trying in vain to convince the manager not to call the police. Luckily for me two dishwashers and one rather large sous chef physically ejected me from the premises before the police could arrive. Thank god fat donut-eating cops are slow.

We were just getting our stride. With the last food run having gone horribly wrong we decided it would be a good idea to get another drink. We walked about two blocks then rounded a corner, thinking walking two full blocks would throw the cops off our trail. C-roc and I bellied up to the bar which, was pretty crowded considering it was only about 9pm. We tried in vain to get the (very sexy blond) bartender's attention for about five minutes. Growing impatient, I leaned way over the bar and held out my arm, waiving it wildly. She saw me, rolled her eyes, held up one finger and said "I'll be there in a minute". Nope, that wasn't good enough for me, so I started whipping coasters at her ass as hard as I could while yelling "Nurse! Oh, nurse! I think this patient is coding down here!" pointing to C-roc, "Quick, drinks are needed! Hurry, we're losing him!!!" She was quasi-amused by our antics and didn't throw us out of the bar, and even gave us two beers.

While C-roc and I made small talk with two chubby girls I spotted a cute blond walking in with another girl. I was looking at her trying to figure out how I knew her when it hit me, it was Mira, the girl I met in Lake Placid this past New Year's. I walked up behind her and said "Hey, so what happened, you didn't want to get drinks with me?". She turned around, looked at me with her mouth open for a long time, then said, "It's you!".

You may recall that I don't like to lose. You may also recall that I mentioned to Mira that I was in the city fairly often and suggested we get together for a drink sometime, to which I received no reply, and I took very personally. So naturally I used our fortuitous meeting as an opportunity to scold her for not returning my email. Mira was kind of meekish and maybe even felt a little bad, but who really knows what her situation is. She's married for all I know. Whatever the case, after I finished giving her a hard time C-roc and I left and went to another bar. If she was on the fence about hanging out with me before, I think she's certain now that she made the right decision.

I am ashamed to admit that shortly after leaving the next bar the lights went out in NN-Land. C-roc said that one minute I was chatting up a girl and the next my eyes had rolled into the back of my head and the only thing I could say was "I don't know, man. I just don't know". I couldn't remember Uncle Charlie's or my sister's address so C-roc called my younger sister and got my NYC sister's address. He then escorted me there in a cab, dumped me off with the doorman, and made his way back home.

It was not the high-point of my life. Do I care, not really.

This weekend is obviously Halloween, the best night of the year. I'm having a big party at my house then moving the party to the bars late night.

Stream of Consciousness

There is a girl in my office who's boyfriend was recently run over by a bus and killed. She went from portly and bland to thin and attractive almost overnight. Is it wrong to think that this may be the next diet fad or that I see a reality show opportunity here? The show could be hosted by Dr. Phil, Joan Rivers, and the cast of Jackass. Dr. Phil would pretend to counsel the girl for being fat and having low self esteem, Rivers would rip apart her old wardrobe, then Johnny Knoxville and Bam would throw her boyfriend in front of a bus, or train, or tie him to a giant home made rocket and launch him into oblivion. Don't mock just because you didn't think of it first.

I think tall boots should be mandatory for girls year-round. Sometimes I make girls keep them on during sex. However, more often than not they leave vicious scrapes and chaffing on my side and hips.

It should be legal to stone drivers to death that "block the box".

I have found no place in DC where there is a higher concentration of hot girls than Chop't on 12th Street NW.

Whenever I think my life sucks I think of the attendant at my parking garage and how much his life blows then suddenly feel better.

Why is everyone dressing like it's 1982?

My dog took the loaded pistol I keep under my bed and buried it in my yard. It took me a thirty minutes, and many holes, to find the spot she buried it in. It was very unnerving digging up a gun that I knew had a hair-trigger. I probed the soil like I was searching for land mines.

If I'm having sex with a girl and she says "cum on me" does that mean anywhere I want?

If a girl lets you drink beer out of her shoe, she will let you sleep with her. Don't believe me? Try it.

If you're girlfriend asks "does this make me look fat?", and it does, should you tell her the truth?

Is this what life is about?

Jesus I'm bored lately. I literally have no excitement in my life. Am I old enough to be having a mid life crisis?

The last two books I read were Rogue Warrior and A Dawn Like Thunder, both of which are about being in the Navy. I have to tell you, it really makes me want to go and join the Navy so that I can kill people with impunity. I've always had a violent streak, maybe a government funded strafing run is what I need to get out of this funk.

The tipping point of my mood came last Saturday at a baby christening. I was sipping a Heineken and listening to this little Vietnamese chick telling me about her job in retail, her monthly trips to Vegas and NYC, and how all the restaurants in DC were "soooooo awful". She was really attractive until she opened her mouth, and once it was open all I wanted was for it to shut. Each syllable made me loathe her more.

It really wasn't even about her, though, it was about who and what she represented. Prada retail and the people who shopped there. Fuck seven dollar coffees and cars that parallel park themselves. Fuck the south Beach diet, "Rehab" at the Hard Rock in Vegas, pedicures, walk-in closets, people who can't cross a street properly, Kardashians, and yes, people who "blog". Fuck me too.

I talked to my buddy Chuck this morning and he said "you just need a new piece of ass", but I doubt that's it. I thought about volunteering, but I'm pretty sure I need something physical and/or violent, like boxing or hunting wild boar with a knife. The only downside is if the boar wins, then you look like a jerk because really it's just a pig that lives in the wild. I'll pass on that.

Then he said "you need to buy something", I said "like a sandwich?" and he said "no, like another property". True, that would help, but the banks have cut me off for at least a few more months, so that's out.

I'm just looking for some fun. My biggest thrill is my daily four mile motorcycle commute. Is this really what life is about; work five days, take two off, repeat? Wouldn't it be cool to sail around the world, or hike the Himalayas, or ride a horse to the tip of Patagonia.

I can't help but think that my priorities are out of line. There are so many cool things to experience in life and I only get three weeks off a year to do them. That's not enough time. Maybe the answer is to lower my standard of living and work less. I should quit my job and...I don't know, pick figs during the harvest season and backpack the Rockies the rest of the year.

Or maybe I just need a new piece of ass.

Judgement

I am often astounded at both how good and how poor my judgement can be. In a matter of seconds I can make both excellent and astonishingly asinine choices. Maybe I'm bipolar and there are a couple of people at the helm.

Friday night I decided to stay in. I rented a couple of movies and picked up some things for dinner at Eastern Market. After dinner I was sitting on the couch watching Robin Hood (awful) and finishing up a six-pack of Yuengling (OK, maybe it was more like a twelve-pack) when my phone rang, it was my downstairs tenant. I looked at my watch and it was just a little before midnight. I really didn't want to answer the phone because calls from tenants are generally to report that something is broken, and let's face it, I was in no shape to play the handyman role. However, this is technically part of my "job" so I picked up the call. My tenant said that she had locked herself out and was wondering if I was around and could let her in. Generally she would have been shit outta luck and would have had to spend the $100 on a locksmith to let her in the house, but since I was home I didn't mind going downstairs and unlocking her door, so I grabbed my keys and went down.

My tenant isn't a bad looking girl. She's 25 years old, tall - about 5'11", long brown hair, thin with huge boobs, but she's a slightly socially awkward and her face is just OK. If I met her out at a bar I would bang her. She's nothing special, though, so I have never considered hooking up with her given that she lives directly below me. That would just never work out.

Anyway, I go outside to let her into her place and she's sitting on her front porch with a cute blond girl and a case of Natty Light - I know, really classy (like my "I would bang her" comment). I said hello, unlocked the door then started walking back up the stairs to my door. My tenant introduced me to the girl and asked if I wanted a beer. If it was just my tenant sitting out there I would have declined because I have a strict "No drinking with female tenants" rule, a lesson I learned from experience (a story for another time). However, since she was with a friend I decided it was more like a party and thus acceptable (I can rationalize anything). She reached into the case to pull out a beer then said "Oh shit, we're out!". The blond giggled and said "I can't believe we drank a whole case". Tenant said she had tequila inside and asked if I'd rather have a shot. I told them it was OK and that I really didn't need another drink, then continued walking upstairs.

I grabbed a beer out of my fridge, plopped down on my couch, and had the following thoughts:

-Beer is good
-Girls are good
-I have beer but no girls
-There are girls downstairs with no beer
-Me's thinks there is an opportunity to greatly improve both our evenings
-Beer + hot tub + two girls = the three of us naked
-Shower
-Threesome

Now, notice how my mind made the quantum leap from "I should offer them a beer" to "threesome". My brain instinctively segued to the best case scenario. I picked up my phone and began to write a text message.

Luckily, not to mention surprisingly, while I was writing I had a glimmer of what was more likely to happen, which was:

-Invite them up for beer
-Me drunkenly making a pass at the blond and being rejected
-Me drunkenly making a pass at my tenant and being rejected
-A long awkward period of silence
-Blond and tenant quickly leaving creepy landlord's apartment
-Tenant not renewing her lease in the spring

I deleted the text message I was writing, went to bed, jerked off, then fell asleep. In the morning I was elated that I hadn't sent that text. Girls are crafty. I'm sure they ran out of beer and my tenant devised that little ruse of being locked out to replenish her beer supply.

That was NN making sound, prudent, decisions.

I must have used up all my Good Decision chits on Friday because last night I was a jackass. I had just finished cleaning up my dinner dishes when I got a text from Bear asking what I was up to. I said nothing and asked if she wanted to come over for a drink. She said yes and was there in 45 minutes.

Bear and I do get together for a drink now and again, but usually out at a restaurant, she hasn't been to my house in months. But no big deal, I really didn't think much of it. Bear came over, we had a beer and watched TV for a while, then at 11pm I said it was time for me to go to bed. There was a strange silence then she just followed me down to bed.

Bear is such a little freak, I love it. She said "I have my period, and I don't want anal tonight, so put your cock in my throat". I love it when she talks dirty.

After fantastic head Bear said "We never had that threesome, when can we do that?" She's been dangling that carrot in front of me for practically two years now, I said "You find the other girl and I'm in".

I really don't want to get back into the same groove with Bear that I do every year, it's just bad news. I regret having her over.

One final thought. Saturday night I met some buddies in Alexandria for a couple of beers and to watch football. Sitting next to us was this giant douche bag and his girlfriend who looked like an out-of-work porn star. The dude was kind of big, but goofy looking. He had on a white shirt that had blue swirls and, I don't know, eagle talons all over it. On each finger he had a silver ring with skulls and dragons and other gay mythical creatures. He was also covered in tats. The chick was striking. She was tall with long wavy blond hair, GIANT boobs, and she seemed fairly pretty. However, upon closer inspection her hair looked fake, her boobs were fake, her tan was fake, and she was kind of ugly. Her tits were hanging out of her shirt and she wanted everyone to look at her.

I'm not sure why, but when I looked at this couple I figured they were into some really crazy shit. The rings and the tats and the huge fake stripper-tits, I just couldn't help but think that they did things in bed that would never occur to me. Right? I mean, there are probably people walking around that fuck each other in ways that I wouldn't dream up in a million years. Who knows, maybe they like to fuck each other while live chickens run around the room. Or maybe he wants to fuck her while a machine shoots tennis balls into her stomach. Maybe they like to have sex in burning buildings, or while covered in Major Grey's Mango Chutney. People are so creative, they have to be doing some wild shit, right? Or maybe these two are all fucked up on the outside and have really vanilla sex while the geek in my IT department is totally cookoo in the sack and will only bang aboriginal pygmy twins after he sprays them head to toe with black Rustoleum paint.

Clean Break

I made a clean break with Tiny last night. It went fairly well, or at least as well as that sort of thing can go. I chose to do it over the phone. Cowardly? Perhaps, but I decided it would be easier and/or best that way. We talked for around a half hour and essentially agreed that we had different long-term goals in life and it would be best if we ended things now. Just before we hung up Tiny said "I hope you find what you're looking for.", which I didn't didn't know how to respond to. After a pause I said something like "Um, thanks, you too." and that was it.

So now I'm single with virtually no prospects, which wasn't much of a plan.

Heroine Relapse

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

I'm not sure how to answer that...

I'm not normally one to go to a coffee shop to read or do work, but I finished up some appointments early yesterday and decided to stop at a place called Jacob's on 8th Street to get an iced coffee and read before heading home.

I don't like to sit with my back facing a door so I found a seat in the corner of the shop facing the front window and entrance. I had been reading for a while when I spotted this blond girl across the street walking towards Jacob's. She was very beautiful, but what was most striking about her was that she was not dressed for "5pm, Thursday afternoon, coffee at Jacob's". She had on skin tight black pants, 4" black high heels and a low cut shirt. She had long blond hair with big loopy curls, and a fair amount of make-up on (a little too much). Basically, she looked like she was going out to a club.

Blondie opened the front door, took two steps in then came to a dead stop. She made half an attempt at backing out before an older gentleman sitting at table looked up and said her name. There was a long, awkward pause then she said "Heeyyyy, how are youuuuuu?" Blondie was still standing in the doorway holding the door open but the old guy stood up and was waiting for a hug or a kiss or some sort of greeting. Old Guy said "I'm great. Small world, what are you doing here?" Blondie let the door close behind her but didn't walk in any further. She said "I just drove into DC, and you?" Old Guy said he had just finished something or other (I think he said "class") and stopped in for a coffee.

At this point the only reason I am semi paying attention to the conversation is because the girl is extremely good looking. I was glancing up as often as I could and at some level listening to their conversation because, well, it was awkward and I love awkward interactions.

Anyway, Old Guy said "I thought you were in school?" and Blondie said she still was and studying journalism and then threw in a couple of non sequitur fillers: "blah blah blah, traffic was bad, blah blah blah, I get into the city once a week". Then, after all this she finally decided to walk in and give the guy a hug. Oh man, so fucking awkward. It was one of those "walk up, bend at the waist, stick your ass way out, pat on the back, I don't want to hug this person" hugs. As soon as it was over she took two steps back. Old Guy then asked "So, if you're in school what are you doing here?"

Yes, exactly what I had been thinking!

Blondie tilted her head slightly, looked at the ceiling, waited a full four seconds then said "Hmmm, I'm kind of working."

Working? Working how? Is she fucking hooking? I wanted to run over and introduce myself so I could join in the discussion.

Old Guy said "Working, what are you doing?" Blondie again took forever before saying "How can I explain this...." trailing off at the end.

Fuck my book. Please, sweetheart, tell us, what kind of work could you be doing here in DC on a Thursday night dressed like that? Old Guy and I are on the edge of our seats!

Old Guy said "Oh, you must be meeting an ex boyfriend, is that it?"

There you go, honey, that's an easy out for you, take it and run. All she had to do was agree, say "nice to see you" get a coffee and get the hell out of there. It could have been so easy, but luckily for me she let this debilitating seen continue.

Blondie said "No, no, that's not it.... How can I explain this...?" Old Guy said "Do your parents know where you are?"

What? That's a great question! I didn't think this scene could get any more uncomfortable. The old bastard knows her parents? Holy shit, she's fucking screwed. I wasn't even pretending to read anymore. I set the book on my lap, kicked my feet up on the table and gave them my undivided attention.

Stammering now and fidgeting with the zipper on the back of her pants (that, by the way, barely covered her perfect ass) Blondie said "Oh, sure. I'm trying to think how I can explain the work to you..."

I laughed out loud. Why are you saying you're working! Just fucking drop it already. There's no good way to explain to your parents' friend that you're supporting your coke habit by doing anal porn in DC. I can't believe you don't have a cover story. Any cover story! You're meeting friends. You have a date. An interview. Come on, you can't think of anything? No wonder your selling her body, there's no goddamn way you're going to get a college degree, you're dumb as a post.

Old Guy was visibly uncomfortable with the whole exchange at this point and really just wanted it to end. He said "Should I just stop asking you questions now?"

No, please God, no!

But Blondie was too stupid to let it go. She tried to come up with a plausible explanation for what she was doing in DC dressed like a stripper instead of at the library at her community college, but there obviously wasn't a single thought running through that beautiful head of hers. She just kept saying "No, I'm just trying to think of a way to explain it. How can I explain it?" over and over.

At last Blondie's phone rang. She answered it and said "Oh, OK, you're here?" She looked out the window and said "No, but I'll find you. See you soon. Bye."

I practically jumped out of my seat to see if Ron Jeremy was waiting out front.

Blondie put her phone away and said to the now completely stupefied Old Guy "Ok, I have to run, great to see you though!" Old Guy, in fatherly protective mode, looked as if he was going to follow her outside for a second then thought better of it and sat back back down.

I tried to see where Blondie went but she turned a corner and went out of site.

So, let's list all the possible explanations for what a young beautiful college student from outside DC could be doing in the city "working" at 5pm on a Thursday afternoon. We know she's a journalism student, meeting someone (male, I could hear his voice when she answered the phone) at a coffee shop who didn't actually come into the shop, and was she dressed...seductively.

a)Escort
b)Prostitute
c)Selling drugs
d)Buying Drugs
e)Porn
f)Modeling (read with sarcastic snicker)

Life is amusing.

On another front, a few minutes ago I rounded the corner on the way to the men's room and saw two LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGG legs walking down the hallway. They were on 5" heels and led up to a very short skirt. When I finally worked my way up to the body they were attached to I realized they belonged to Trouble. I'm going to put on the full court press next week to get drinks with her. The problem is that I never see her in the office, I just don't have any interaction with her.