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Hi. A lot of us men try very hard and treat dating or impressing a girl like a chore. All this does it make it a chore for the girl as well.

My first piece of advice involves what to say when it's your first date with a girl and before you even get two minutes into sex you cum all over the place.

Do not apologize or act like it never happens. Tell the girl that this happens all the time, even if it's not true. If she doesn't lol, then don't call her again. Well, I'm spent. That's about enough advice for tonight.

one of my family members impersonated me in an attempt to access one of my accounts and withdraw money. i am so fucking angry right now that i don't even know what to think.

it's easier when youre in front of other people, or it's just not as intense as it is when youre by yourself. when youre alone nothing can distract you, nothing can slow your thoughts down and make light of the situation. you just keep fucking with yourself until you burst into tears.
fucking bullshit ebb and flow. chaos; structure; chaos; structure. i hate people and dealing with them. i want my own little secluded area where i can hobbit away and come out when i get bored, which doesnt happen very often. a place near water and only certain memories. a place with no mirrors.

View from front porch when im in the hood



My favorite bodega


best chicken joint


Nothin makes me feel better than when im on the block beatin that sidewalk with the bottom of my feet, Somethin about it just gives me energy and the will to keep goin on,



How much time did i spent here.....It goes so quick.....

So I will keep walkin on thru the hood in the city that i love best and will always call home no matter where i go,
Any time i come back I feel like Im comin alive again. Nowhere does it for me like here. I hope some of these pics will paint a picture for you from all the words Ive wrote in here, now you have a illustration. Every place i put a pic of Ive spent time at in the past or do now. These are my places, Ima keep em anoymous on here, but anybody thats ever been to p town might recognize some of em. Come thru next time youre in the hood and maybe you will see me on one of these corners. I cant post no more than 4 images in here so maybe next time I will include some more but for now enjoy and let your mind wander and maybe you will find yourself passin me by as you take a walk in your daydreams.

two of the hungarian churches in cleveland are closing. this prolly doesn't seem like a big thing, but i spent a fair bit of time growing up at these places. and when i go back home, they are places i know i can go to get certain foods. aide from being houses of god, they were cultural centers.

it makes me really glad i learned my grandma's recipes and how she cooked before she went senile. other than my uncle, i am the only person in my family that can cook traditional dishes. and apparently i do it pretty well

the funny thing is, i hated all things hungarian when i was growing up. i tolerated the food, went to the ethnic things begrudgingly and was generally embarassed by stuff. but now i embrace it all as part of who i am and try to learn more about my heritage. its weird how much you can change.

i couldnt imagine doing what he does over and over. i cant handle just seeing it happen continually. it's making me hate him.

all he has to do is be here. that's all. not that hard. be here when you say you'll be and dont call that day with a bullshit excuse. i learned a long time ago to not even tell her he's coming. she would wait for him and he wouldnt show, then id have to feel like the bad guy and try to hug away her tears. all she knows is that he's not here.

it's not like he's incapable of being a father. i wouldnt want her with him if he wasnt. he just doesnt want the responsibility.

but she's so fun to be around. she's loving and sings all the time, she has imaginary friends and believes everything you say, she dances and wants to learn everything. i love her more than life itself yet he has no idea.

and it's always been this way even before she was born. i'd be pregnant and at home waiting for him and he would be out playing pool. it's my fault for not standing up for myself then. that's why he said the other day that i was easy to manipulate. im not, i just dont waste my time explaining his bullshit and why it's obvious.

he's become a burden on my mind. he brings nothing good to the situation. i talk to him on the phone more than he sees her. i dont want to talk to him anymore. i dont think we can be friends because i disagree so much with how he chooses to be a father, or rather, doesnt.

im just going to let it be. i wont call him to ask when he's coming for her and im sure he wont take it upon himself to make the call first. ill focus on being both for her because it's what she needs. i cant waste anymore time infuriated at him. i cant help what he does or make him do other wise.

It's crazy, but ever since I quit my active pill addiction almost a year ago, I have discovered these untapped wells of empathy inside me. Was this always there? I mean, I have always been able to "put myself in the other person's shoes", and have always been a "good listener", and as a human being, of course have always cared about the poor/downtrodden/sick, abused kids, animals, etc.

This feels somehow different, like I have this driving need to put my feelings into action and do something, do all I can, to help my fellow man. To this end, I am seriously considering entering a program at the local university here in Mobile to become a Physician Assistant. My dream is to work either in an E.R., or maybe work with a doctor who specializes in addiction. The latter is one area I know I could add a lot of value to, as I of course have walked that particular walk all my life.

This is something I really want to do; however, to make it happen, I will have to take a lot of preliminary steps before I can apply to the actual program. The college degree I have is sorely lacking in the biological sciences, chemistry, anatomy, etc., so I'll have to take those classes first off. Luckily, my undergrad GPA is above a 3.0, which happens to be the cut-off for the PA program here at South Alabama. I am probably going to start slowly and just dip my toe in the pool at first, maybe take one, two classes at the most the first semester. It is going to take a year and a half to two years to make up all these prerequisite classes, but I look forward eagerly to taking them.

I will have to obtain a letter of rec from a practicing physician which will not be a problem.

Then, I'll apply to the program and pray! The program takes about two years or a little more to complete, including clinicals.

Is anyone on here a PA? If so, I'd love to hear any advice/experiences/caveats you have to offer.

I hope that working in this capacity will be a good outlet for my desire to "save the world", LOL!

The other day, my friend and I were getting in her car to leave work, when a woman came walking over the hill calling to us, "Excuse me! I need to ask y'all a question!" We waited for her to come up to the car, and she asked us which churches in the area were known for helping those in need.

Well, as anyone who has ever lived here in the South can attest to, there is a church approximately every five hundred yards, , and the small suburban town in which I live and work has its fair share. Also, I happen to be acquainted with several of the ministers of said churches, which comes to play in this story, as I really think I could have done more to help this girl.

Anyway, she was slightly overweight with bad teeth and a polyester sleeveless top. She just had that run-down rural Alabama look I see on so many faces here, a look which makes my heart want to break. She had tears in her eyes as she told me the story of how her cousin and cousin's husband had been arguing and had asked her to leave their house, which is evidently where she had been staying, and she had been out on the street for two days. She once again reiterated that she needed some help and was hoping a church could assist her. I told her that the Pathways church close by is very large and well-known for their outreach to the community. She told us that she was hoping to get enough cash together to rent a motel room downtown so she could ride the bus line to get to other places she needed to go; the busses don't run this far out in the 'burbs.

She thanked us for our time and was on her way in the direction of the Wal-Mart, still crying.

I could have done so, so so much more to help her. It was after work, I was tired and had ridden in that day with my friend, but it's no excuse.

if I had it to do over again, and had I been in my own car, I would have:

1. Taken her to my house so she could sit down in air conditioning and had something to drink. This is summer in Mobile, Alabama, and it has been an even hotter one than average. Temps have been close to 100 degrees, with ridiculous humidity ever since the beginning of June.

2. Let her use my cell phone to make some calls, or even made them for her, as I happen to know some of the local ministers and church folk in this town.

3. Given her some cash and a ride downtown.


None of these things would have cost me much, but would have made a world of difference to this poor girl. I pray I do the right thing next time. Usually I do, so why not this time? I have picked up people I have seen walking in the rain, have helped stranded motorists, have offered shelter in my home to people needing a temporary place to stay. The way I figure it is, what is life really all about if not to help one another? Being a spiritual person, and always having had an abiding faith in God, I believe it is our imperative as humans to offer aid and succor to those who have little.

I may not "have it all", but since getting clean, I look around me and it's like, wow, I have so much that could easily be taken for granted. A nice house, enough money, a decent enough job, (for now), the benefit of higher education, a middle-class upbringing, a loving family, a healthy, happy, successful kid. My life has been blessed.

Going through withdrawal and being so horribly dopesick for what felt like forever taught me more about myself than almost any other life experience. I feel like a stronger, more capable person and my self-confidence is much higher than it was prior to ever using, (or God forbid, when I was in active addiction. All my good feelings were so false, and contingent upon my supply of hydro. What a shitty way to go through life, at least for me.)

My prayer for today is simply this: God, thank you for all the gifts you have bestowed upon me. Please help me find a way to use my talents to help other people, and please do not ever let me pass by another opportunity to offer a leg up to anyone who needs it. Let me be ever thankful for all the good I see and ever vigilant about remaining true to myself. Amen

Thanks all y'all for reading this. It's a great outlet for getting thoughts out in the open, and I appreciate anyone who stops by and takes the time to read my words. Bless all y'all...I get so much out of reading your posts, hearing your experiences and knowing that I am not alone in what I have gone through/continue to go through.

Peace Out...


JAC

"The only consistent feature of your dissatisfying relationships is you." ~ unknown

www.be-at.tv

online clubbing community!

I had a good day yesterday. Man it's so fuckin nice not to have to work Tuesday afternoons! As I was halfway home, my phone rang. Oh great. Who the fuck could this be at this early hour? It was Johnny. I had completely forgotten about him. He had called last night wanting to know if I'd hang out at some motel and party with him, and that he had shit. "Sorry," I said. "Got to leave for work in 30 minutes." He said he might be calling back after work was over, but truthfully, I pretty much lost this crazy horniness that hit me like a ton of bricks for a couple months. It's weird the stuff I'm finding out about myself. I've been given numerous offers to hook up with various guys, and I just don't seem to want to do it. Perhaps I'm sure whoever I hook up with will only be a disappointment, and often times with someone I really don't know that is the case.

So, I did about 5 shots, kicked back, enjoyed myself, didn't go anywhere or do anything. I think what I love the most about drugs is that while on them, I'm constantly entertained. I can stay holed up in a single room for days with nothing but the PC or the radio for amusement. That's because most of my entertainment is showing me it's own vids in my head. It's weird how that happens, but it's true. I got 10 million phone calls it seemed like yesterday, but didn't feel like talking to anyone, especially creditors. I haven't run up any new debts, but the probation dept keeps calling. I know it's them because their number is always blocked. I dread having to deal with this shit. I want to get the most out of this vacation for sure. Too bad Erik doesn't live down the street like Aimee and Linda. I thought about going to see them yesterday, but the problem sometimes in doing that, is that I can't just offer Linda a line without Aimee and Don as well. I want to see them though, maybe tonight I will. I'm glad Erik got my card. Hope he was satisfied with the quality of Tina.

My grandfather recently died and we found his journals and essays. This one is about his mother and gives a peek into life in Mla when Lolo was young.

March 24, 2007


Today is the birthday of my mother. She was born in the year 1898, meaning if she were still living, she would be 109 years old. But she died in 1975 at the age of 77. And I have missed her sorely since then. I guess I always will. I don not think I will miss anyone as much as I do my mother this day.

Simeona Calalay was born to Don Juan Calalay and Dona Sixta dela Rosa. He was from Intramuros and she was from San Miguel, Bulacan. Sixta was the second of three daughters and was tall and beatiful, according to Mr. Juan Nhello Reyes, a friend of the family who used to write poems in Spanish. Don Juan was a lieutenant in the Spanish Army with three ribbons or medal decorations. His sword and medals were lost during the Japanese occupation.
In the latter years, the family stayed in a big house on San Marcelino, where the Meralco building stands today. This is where Sixta and Don Juan died. Whatever happened to this property and others reportedly owned by the couple is a mystery.

When they were orphaned, Simeona and her two sisters were taken in by the sister of Sixta, Teodorica Medel. who had a large family of her own. As normally happens, the orphaned sisters had to work around the house and serve their cousins who were all studying, until Simeona and Josefina got married. The youngest, Felicissima remained with the aunt until claimed by Simeona.

My oldest memories of my mother are vivid. Mama took a bath everyday. I remember her in her bata de bano and her sitting and drying her long hair in a white towel and massaging her hair and scalp for what seemed to me an inordinate length of time. Maybe about 15 minutes and then massage her hair tonic of choice, TRICOFERO into her scalp for another 15. Which may perhaps explain why my mother had a healthy and lustrous head of hair without any dandruff and any white hairs until he was in her 60's.

She also went to the wet market (Quinta market on Azcarraga) everyday. In those days, food was cooked for the day.We had a large eight compartment icebox made of wood, lined with some insulating material and then covered with a thin metal sheet. This was cooled by the two large slabs of ice which was delivered daily arrived covered with palay husks and wrapped in a brown jute sack. These were then icepicked by the maid or the houseboy into smaller chunks which were distributed into the eight compartments. The icebox was used mainly for cold water, which was an absolute necessity during the hot humid summer months, and to preserve food which would otherwise spoil in that weather.

Mama would bring me to the market with her at times and we would ride a horsedrawn vehicle called a calesa, For the short 5 or 6 block trip to Quinta market, she would pay the cochero ten centimos.

Mama had her coterie of "suki", a Chinese coined term to denote a regular and special customer which term also applied to the regular supplier or vendor. She had a suki in the fish section. others for the meat section, which had different vendors for pork, chicken and vaca (cow meat).

Mama would pick the freshest of the fish of choice available, really actually breathing specimens. These maybe of course bangus for sinigang or paksiw or fried and the vendors would clean the innards and the hasang and cut the fish according to instructions-- butterfly cut for daings; five piece postas for frying or stomach cut for rellenos. Her favorite or really Papa's favorite fish,were of course, Dagupan or Bonoan bangus, pampanos, sapsap, spada or swordfish, dapa or , lapulapu, dalag or codfish, hito or catfish, banak. Her favorites which her suki would reserve for her, was apahap, something similar to a striped sea bass, without the stripes. These were seasonal or rarely available, therefore commanded a higher price.

Chicken then were sold alive and in wooden cages. After making her choice, the chicken's feet would be tied up and put into a bayong. The maids at home would kill the chicken by slitting their throats. The blood spilled would be collected in a bowl for cooking. The carcass would then be dipped in boiling water, supposedly to make it easier to pluck the feathers off. When properly denuded, it was then cut up, depending on the intended use. Can you imagine anyone doing this today, with all the chicken available whole and cleaned and packaged or cut into parts such as thighs, drumsticks etc.

The ones Mama bought were all range grown, i.e. loose, not caged and fed bagged feed fortified with all sorts of vitamins and antibiotics. They tasted much better, specially since they were cooked in low fire over a long period of time.

Mama ran a tight ship. She made sure that the house was squeaky clean and food was properly cooked and served, laundry was washed and dyed and starched and ironed properly for her family of seven girls and two boys, by a work force before the war of as many as five maids plus a couple of houseboys. Laundry was normally farmed out, counted out and paid for by piece. We did not have that long a clothesline to hang all the school uniforms of the girls, for one thing.

She did find time though to play "panggingue" , a card game similar to rummy with my godmother and some other friends, once or twice a week in the late afternoons, when Papa and the family were away.

During Papa's busiest business season, July to October, Mama would man the front office and attended to "indoor" sales, i.e. of Lapidas for cemetery tombstones. Sales became more brisk as Todos Los Santos neared and I think their quoted prices also increased commensurately, since work would pile up and the workers started to work overtime and weekends too to keep up with the orders.

During this season, I made it a habit of going to the office after class at the Ateneo for Mama would send me across the street to Ang Tibay's Soda Fountain for my merienda of chicken sandwich and chocolate milkshake and did my homework. Then at the end of the day, she would have me count the cash from her voluminous pocket from the day's sales. I would segregate the bills according to denomination, count and write the totals on a sheet of paper which I would turn over to her and she turned over to Papa, I guess. Invariably, she would ask me how much I filched. I would answer, not much. and that was that. I would pocket enough for the next day's expense for then we would eat lunch outside campus at various restuarants in the Ermita area. I remembered that she trusted me not to take too much as this would queer. What was really a very nice deal and maybe treated it as commission due for counting the money. Papa never noticed or cared as he was making a lot more money with the construction side of the business and the office sales were probably considered Mama's bonus.

Mama was the spokesman for all the members of the family and the bridge through which all goodies were coursed. Anything we needed, we went to Mama and she would bring the request over to Papa.

She was an accomplished advocate and would always catch Papa at his most vulnerable and generous mood, normally after a sumptuous dinner of his favorite food and much laughter and stories in after dinner banter. She knew when to tap Papa for her children 's needs and would argue and fight with him even until she got her way. But always for her children, never for herself.

As such, she was always in the middle of the joys and the pain involved in these transactions. Papa, being a man of few words, would express his displeasure and even anger over anything involving the house and mostly the children to Mama and it was up to her to handle the complaint with the erring child. And minister the penalty which sometimes included in my case a severe case of spanking on the behind while she lectured the offending party on the reason for the punishment. In extreme cases, when she noted a less than contrite attitude, she would instruct Liloy, the family's general factotum, to pack the clothes of whoever was prostrate on the floor and to carry him/her off to the "Hospicio de San Jose" an orphanage run by the nuns located on an island in the middle of the Pasig River. The howling becomes louder at this point accompanied by all sorts of promises and oaths of repentance, contrition and changes etc. etc., Which was all grand drama, of course, because to my knowledge, not a single case of eviction to the Hospicio ever happened. I can imagine how she would regale my father with the story with chuckles and laughter about who cried and shouted the loudest among the culprits spread out on the floor.

I've just been out to let my dog pee and ended up full on gardening late at night. I love the soil and looking up to the moon.

Even the karaoke outside my house singing "Careless Whisper".

It's a good day to be alive and to start this blog again.

don't have the time for tears

It’s just a little bit colder without you
My nights are a little more restless
My days are groggy and sore

I miss the warmth you once brought
But it’s just not the same without you
Swimming through my veins

I think about you everyday
Sometimes you even come up in conversation
But that don’t cure the sickness I feel for you

I need you here
I need you now
A life without you

Isn’t a life at all

Hello everyone!

I've really been slacking on this lately, but I think that it's time that we give this Blog monthly Theme another try. So here are my thoughts on how it could be done:

• Suggestions for themes can come from anyone, either via a PM to me or as a response to this entry (I'll be subscribed so that it new suggestions will get to me even if the post is buried)
• Either toward the end of the month prior, or at the beginning of the current month, a theme will be chosen by vote (as counted by replies in a dedicated post)
• The theme will then be used as a 'talking point' during the month

If this method sounds all right to everyone, what say we open the floor to topic suggestions until, say, 9:00 Monday evening (GMT-7, or 4:00 AM GMT), then I'll make a post with the suggestions and people can reply with their vote? Keep voting open until 9:00 Wednesday evening, when the winner will be announced, and we can start with the topic on the 2nd.

Depending on the number of suggestions, maybe a selected list will be presented for voting for each month rather than the complete list, and as the topics are used up more will be added from the bank of suggestions. Or should it be done more like the SO photo contest, where open suggestions are taken, and they're just cycled through? Perhaps a month is too long, and a weekly or bi-weekly theme would work better?

Any thoughts? Suggestions? Gripes? Let's see if we can make this work! Assuming of course if anyone actually wants to

Who is this man who follows me?
This blue-eyed boy who wants to be
This worthy cause of humankind
This pawn set up by time

Like a bright light on the horizon
Shining so bright

He'll get you flying
He'll get you flying
He'll get you flying
He'll get you flying

This open book yet to be read
This second look
This leper head

The hope I held inside
With you was kept alive

Like a bright light on the horizon
Shining so bright
He'll get you flying
Drive you awake
Drive you insane

He'll get you flying flying flying
We're here to stay
We're here to stay
We're here to stay

CHAD
3,4-dimethylamphetamine

TROY
3,4-dimethylmethamphetamine

MICHELLE
3,4-dimethylethamphetamine

The first is not new, and they are less toxic than the corresponding plain amphetamines.

Bon apetit!

Today I sit at home. Missing, MISSING it like HELL. Missin it like damn, I cant go back. Not like I cant go back cuz it wont be the same. I cant go back becuz there is a legal order against me steppin foot on their grounds. Damn.

I just want one more time. One more chance.

And today a letter came in the mail. The full case file from my old school about why I got expelled.

And there, on a complaint sheet of paper -

In Miss Lisas handwriting -

I want to break into tears, I want to kick her and punch her and pull our her weave.

"She came to me and said she had been shootin up. "Shootin up" not shooting. Only miss lisa woulda wrote shootin'.

She came to me and said she had been shootin up in the bathroom and missed the shot and her arm was in bad shape. She said she was worried and didnt know wat to do. I told her she should get it looked at.

Miss lisa, Why you did that to me?

How you could do that to me?

After all the private conversations about your boyfriends, and the teachers on your ass saying you dont do enough work, you too personal with the students? And me and my girls always defending you, saying you a GREAT teacher, we love you, and you teach just fine?

I thought I could trust you miss lisa. I really did.

The whole time after i got kicked out you acted like you thought it was fucked up, i talked to you a few times on the phone, and you seemed sad it had to happen that way.

You went right to them. you went right to them and you threw me to the fuckin lions. I knew those old administrator bitches minds wasnt that sharp, that they wasnt on no detective shit, that they couldnt piece together everything without something solid.

And you gave them the solid piece that fit in to the rest of the alleged puzzle and made the whole thing real.

Why did you do it?

I want to cry but Im over shedding tears. Just thinking how this coulda been different, how I coulda just took medical leave and handled shit, came back clean and on probationary terms but back, to my girls, to Debbie the Mannequin and her cold blind blue eyes colored black by my marker, arched eyebrows and black lip liner to match me.

Back to spanish rice and massage class, back to everybody knowing my name. Back to the sun in my eyes, that warm october like the second coming of summer.

Kicked out of class sitting in the projects with the sun on my face, nothing out of place, knowing it was only a temporary time before I would be back, back before you know it, back on track, not steppin on the crack this time.

Back to the beginning, if i had paid more attention, been more discreet, not let my addiction tell me it was fine and nobody noticed me in the bathoom ten minutes at a time.

I loved that school. I miss it. Yea I miss it and I wish i could go back. A year gone by, and i am exactly where I started. It hurts me, not my heart, not my mind, but somewhere down, down, down dark where shame lives, where regret lives, the feelings thatll pull you apart if you dont push them down and keep a weight sitting on top of the lid to that hole.

Today I seen the papers. Read the report of my own personal Judas. And my feelings sit on the horizon like a fat black line simmering over the things I should be seeing in front of me. I never trusted nobody, why did i trust her? cuz I felt bad for her? cuz i thought I had the upper hand, and she wouldnt go back on me just like I wouldnt tell the bosses that she spent entire class periods as Oprah sessions, devoted to asking us wat she should do about her now ex boyfriend?

but fuck her and her betrayal, Becuz I want to see it like it was before all that, before the truth hit my future like a mack truck at 90 mph. Its like a funeral for my education, the one shot I had at getting somewhere, killed when the bud was barely beginning to open and bloom. Carelessly stomped on as the shoes walk away, not even realizing wat they done.

So I think about my memories and good times, never thinking they would get tore away from me suddenly and unexpectedly like a scrap of paper out of your hand with your long lost best friends phone number in a tornado. Somethin lost that can never be found.

I tuck it away in my memories, folded and slipped into the cells of my brain, trying not to think about it. I dont want to wear them out, dim them, make them fuzzy and unsure. I want it all clear in my mind like it was yesterday, part of the opposite world, the parallel world, that world of another place and time where things worked out different. The world where every what if is a reality, and it dont follow the rules of real life, the real life that rips and tears and shreds up things that are happy and true, and reduces them to bitter cynicism and cold hearts. The place where it follows the way of your hearts secret desires. That seperate life you create for yourself where all your dreams come tru, and everything that could have been plays out like a perfect movie behind your eyelids while you sleep.

That life exists, miniature and frozen in time, inside a snowglobe inside my mind. real people , places and things, reduced to memories, tiny dolls arranged in the ways that the future could have been. Never moving, always there for me to look at and never forget. I made them mine to hold onto eternally. Trapped under glass as the snow of time quietly slowly falls and burys them.




Here is me in the bathroom after a shot. I will live in that picture in my dreams, years from now I will still wish.

Charlotte's Web by E.B. White

yes, you're older now, and you're a clever swine, but they were the only ones who ever stood by you

&

he said, "return the ring"
he knows so much about these things
he knows so much about these things
he knows so much about these things

I should have got an ugly flat mate as I seriously want to fuck him senseless.

But I wont even try. Hes too good a person and flat mate to risk that and I doubt I would feel better if I did.

Besides, I am more wanting to cuddle up to someone I love instead of sex with a cute friend.

Isn't it funny how what we fear most will often appear in our lives? One of my biggest fears is being Rejected.

I went to a work mate's party yesterday. There's a new chef at work, gorgeous Brazilian guy that I've had my eyes on for long. I never hit on guys unless I'm pretty sure that I won't get no for an answer. I told one of my close friends at work that I liked him, and they had a conversation about me a few weeks ago. I can't remember exactly what he said, but the general impression she got was that he thought I was hot. He was at the party, and I caught him looking at me a few times. A few drinks later, I started hitting on him. He was reluctant, so I got more obvious. Practically stuck my tongue in his mouth, but in a (slightly) more classy way.

And he rejected me! I was like To make it worse, it seemed he wanted two other girls at the party - one of whom I've had sex with in the past - let's call her K. I got so upset that I decided to completely cockblock him and started flirting with K. I ended up sleeping with her, but I'll get to that point later. In the end, he went home, which I was glad for.

The thing is, I know everyone deals with rejection at some point. Men especially, I think of some men that I've rejected without a second thought, and they don't go all suicidal about it (as far as I know). It makes me feel like a spoiled brat to get all upset just because one guy said no to me, but I honestly am not used to this feeling!!! It's not like I've never been rejected romantically - i've dealt with it many times, especially lately, but I've never had a guy say no to my sexual advances. It really shocked me!

I know I sound ridiculously spoiled, but keep in mind that having had pretty low self-esteem most of my life, rejection *terrifies* me, and I will usually never hit on a guy unless there's a 95% chance he'll say yes.

Anyway, I'm sort of over it emotionally, i'm just amused about my reactions to it, in a purely intellectual way. (I'm also pretty impressed by myself that Im not beating myself up about it, shows me how far I've come with my self esteem)

So we ended up going to my Portugese friend's house in zone 4 in West London (it was her birthday party). Got pretty drunk, and K was pissed as well. She's a French girl I used to work with, crazy party girl that always gets drunk and slutty (just how I like my women, an extra bonus if they look really innocent as well). A couple of years ago when I was really coked up I asked her if she was bisexual, and told her to let me know if she ever wanted to try a woman out. She said no, but then in January we got really drunk together at a staff party, she kissed me and then when we went to the toilet together to have a line, she practically raped me! Ended up having sex in the toilets the whole night, which was the Hot Gossip of the week at work.

So we ended up having sex again, which was pretty fun. One of my other ex-workmates kept trying to barge into the room and take pictures though - he's really lovely usually, so that was a bit shocking. K and I were in a bunk bed on the bottom, and another guy went to sleep on the top bunk, we were still having sex, and I strictly told him not to listen (yeah right), but he told me this morning that he could see us the whole time, and he said "you're pretty kinky aren't you?".

I only got home a little while ago. We all slept over a the house, got up early in the morning and had beers in the garden, sitting in the sunshine. It was nice

Writing all of this was a mission... I feel pretty incoherent and braindead... thank God I don't have to be social today, couldn't carry a conversation for the life of me. Gonna get stoned and watch Carnivale...