Confession: I went to the club last night for one main purpose. I wanted to see Mr. Old-School Crush. I'd seen him there before, so I was hoping against hope that he'd be there last night. Because if he was I was going to (hopefully, maybe, ok probably not...) attempt to make a move. Or at least talk to him or send signals his way.
Alas, he was not there. There are a lot of guys though, that look a LOT like him. Aggravating much?
Ok, so he wasn't the only reason I wanted to go out last night, but he was a big reason. The main reason. God, I suck.
Happily, though, I had a lot of fun. I went with Laurie, a girlfriend I don't spend nearly enough time with. She rocks (except for her whole obsession with Clay Aiken, which I won't even get into...). We had a lot of fun shakin' it on the dance floor for three hours straight.
I saw some other friends that I don't see nearly enough as well, so uber-happiness ensued.
A couple of entertaining things happened last night.
The first thing was that a drunken man "befriended" me. I use the term befriended loosely because he'd laugh and compliment me then tell me to shut up three seconds later. He was really drunk. I am also pretty sure that he was a member of the rainbow family, so I think he thought he had an ally there. Fine by me, but don't drunkenly sidle up to me and slur about stupid things then try to insult me and feel me up.
Guys--even the gay ones--suck.
Then after we got tired of dancing, Laurie and I decided to go to the hot dog man. (I love that guy, he's my hero--he's so hardcore. Yay to him.) While we were walking there, Laurie commented about there being a lot of cute guys at the club, then said that they all wanted the "pretty girls." A quarter of a second after that left her mouth a guy stumbled up to us and nearly fell to his knees as he mumbled about how "hot" we were. He then tried to grab my waist and slap my ass. If he'd been sober-er I would have pounded him with my cute kitten-heeled shoe, but he wasn't and the lure of the hot dog man called to me.
Once we got to the stand we started getting cat-called by a group of ten guys that were there. Turns out that they were from Wisconsin and happened to be in the middle of a bachelor party. They asked what we were doing.
Me being the genius sooth-sayer I am, said that I was going to sleep. They didn't believe me.
Sidenote here: I suck at lying. And when it comes to anything that remotely hints at sex, my inner-nun comes out. Either that or my inner seven-year-old. It's like my brain hits a panic button and I just blurt out whatever I'm thinking even if it's not cute or suave or sexy. This explains why I just said I was going to bed. It was the truth. (Ok, so I watched Boy Meets World first, but really it was true!)
We were invited to join their party at least half a dozen times in a five minute span. Call me crazy, but being perceived as the "party girl" doesn't exactly get me going. Especially when there's close to a dozen drunken horny guys involved. Yes, they were cute. And pretty nice, too. But still.
Ugh.
Honestly, it was a nice little confidence booster to have those events occur though. Yesterday I felt like crap all day. Girls, you know what I mean: you feel fat and gross and nothing you do seems right. It's like PMS without the real need for Midol.
Saturday night was just the cure for that. God, it's good to be a girl sometimes.
Ciao dahling!
~*Krissy*~
Livin' Out My RockStar Fantasy To: "The Sweetest Thing" by U2 (I melt. I meeelt. I adore this song.)
Crush du Jour: Alan Cumming
Happy Thought of the Moment: rainy days, cookouts tomorrow, feeling loved, cute new shirts, shopping, big payday coming up, wireless that works, pedicures, candlelight, Howie Day, bubble baths, POA out in 5 days, Raising Helen, good books, fuzzy blankets, 80s movies