The beginning.

What is up my interweb amigos? I’ve decided to make a blog because:
1) Too much free time
2) Mainly #1
Now, I am very aware that most people probably don’t care what I have to say. And that is understandable. But I am going to write anyway, so that is that. A little background. My name is Erin, I’m in nursing school in NY but am currently stationed in sunny California with the fam for the summer. If I were one of the Sex & the City girls, I would be Miranda. I know, no one says that. Just telling it how it is. I enjoy hangin with the cats, eating, and bemusing myself with the antics of my friends. However, I have a bit of Charlotte thrown in… I’m this awkward combination of Miranda & very hopeful/romantic. Let’s just say I saw “He’s Just not That Into You” 6 times in theaters. I like me some chick flicks. I get into shenanigans from time to time… in fact, let me tell you a little tale.

April 2009, New York City. Bar: Nevada Smith’s.
I am feeling a little lonesome, sitting on a bar stool, enjoying some fruity vag drink, when two unappealing gentlemen approach me. I learn they are from Albania, and as I get more and more shmammered, they get more and more appealing. The one that seems preoccupied with hittin it is 28, and his name… I kid you not… is Klit. And he quit his “job on wall street” to follow his dream of producing techno, although he admits “Americans don’t understand techno.” Seems like an unwise career path then, but who am I to judge? It goes without saying that many giggles ensued from my end throughout the night, for I was hanging out with a 28 year old Albanian techno producer named Klit. Anyway, after being thoroughly blitzed and a woman of class and desperation, I invite said gentleman back to my place. He reveals himself to be not at all fat, but very very doughy and pasty (granted, I am not a bronze goddess but that’s beside the point). And even more unappealing in the sober light of indoor lighting. Needless to say, I lose all feelings of dtf. And my fab roommate Kirsten (who loves me despite my frequent displays of ridiculousness) moseys out into our living room after hearing the commotion. I’m sure she was very amused, seeing a very clearly drunk Erin and a very clearly creepy Klit hanging out on the floor. I told her his name, we laughed. I explained to him what his name meant, I laughed. Anyway, he persuades me to hear some of his techno masterpieces. He hooks up the iPod mini in his car and begins driving to Queens. No, no. I will not allow this. I diplomatically explain “fuckkk I don’t want to go to fucking Queens that’s fucking far”. I, of course, left out “and as I become more and more sober, this situation becomes more and more unpleasant”. He obliges, and parks somewhere a couple blocks from my pad. He tells me he loves me. He tells me to tell him I love him. “Klit, I don’t love you” I say, trying to stifle the natural giggle that comes with saying his name. “Just pretend!!” he says creepily. I oblige. I ask if I can leave now, he says no. Sleep with him! At least give him blowjob! No. I fall asleep in the passenger’s seat, wake up mostly sober, and entirely ashamed as I look to the left to see … Klit. “Can I go now?” “Just a littttle longer!” Fuck this. I dismantle childlock like a pro and bone out of that situation, doing the still-tipsy-the-next-morning hobble of shame back to my place.
Note: I do NOT condone getting into the vehicle of a strange man. Let this be a cautionary tale.