This junk in my Trunk Ain't Made for Chumps...

Thanks, Lil' Kim. You're so right. Slutty and empowering all in one go.

There's that Bright Eyes song with the lyrics--

I should feel cheap
But I just feel free

Friday Keleen and I drank our way down Manhattan, to Brooklyn where we played Kings with Ryan and Daniel (I scolded Jason for not staying). We headed back to Queens to crash out at her place (depressingly fabulous, but of course, it is in Queens--this is always the trade-off on property in New York). She tried to trick the car service into charging us less, relying on the charms of the two inhabitants to get us a deal, but she was trying too hard. We still got quite a deal. I've paid the same for going from Harlem to the Lower East Side, and here we were going from the bottom of Brooklyn out into Woodside, Queens. So yeah. Not interesting.

Keleen got free tickets to the Comedy Club for her birthday, and we wrangled up 10 people to join us. Keleen wanted all the boys to come, and I bet her $5 that Sleazy wouldn't show, and that if any of them did, it would be Dru. But she was bankrolling me all night, so I don't feel right collecting it from her.

She wanted to hang on the Flatplex roof one more time before she went (Danger! Danger!) and so we head back. God, I love that roof. We all stay up there all night, well past when the light starts to come up, and somewhere along the way the boys' friend Robin and Grady as well as Junebug join the festivities (Robin I decided is my new BFF-very cool chick, that one is).

As per usual, the last two standing were me and Junebug. If you know where this is going, give yourself a slap on the back. And then a slap on the ass for good measure.

I had said I was contemplating how long it would take me to get laid, and the answer is 2 days.

But here's the problem (and we're avoiding all the obvious ones):

I don't know what it is. Junebug and I get along fabulously when we are hanging out, and when we are "hanging out" it's also really good.

Then we wake up the next day. And then it all goes to Hell.

All the other boys were gone (Sleazy apparently hadn't been heard from in days) and so it was me and Junebug. The hangover I'm experiencing is impressive, to say the least. The banter is good, but even still, he sits at the computer while I lie on the futon.

"You know, since I'm feeling generous, I could move over so you can sit down."

"I'm okay here."

Well. Whatever. I guess.

But that's not too bad, I guess. But then Caleb and Sleazy come home and we're right back to him not looking at me. Then Junebug and Caleb leave for the Food Festival (I was mid-cigarette) and he doesn't even say bye. Maybe it was the hangover, but this felt like a punch to the gut. I almost started crying.

Rule 1: Never cry at Flatplex.

Sleazy comes downstairs and thankfully doesn't look at me as well because he's heading into the shower. I call out, "I'm glad you're not dead." and run out of there as quickly as I can. I wonder if this will be the last thing I ever say to him.

I like to think that it's Junebug's guilt or Shame Spiral that makes him act this way, since I know that he is a good guy. One of the best guys I know. But in 2.5 seconds, he managed to make me feel like a non-existent whore, and that kids, is not good. It's not okay.

I come home. I sleep. I wake up and puke up my life. I go to bed at 9.

A new life starts for me soon. New job, the end of my financial woes for a while, and a trip back to Texas. I'm taking it as a rebirth, and I will come back a new woman who takes her job seriously and takes how men treat her even more seriously, and perhaps I could even toy with the idea of being a mature adult.

Right now, though, I have to leave for my final week as a crap-ass-receptionist. You know what that means. More fucking Cosmo. And the cycle continues.