Ennui

I fully realize that I have become more boring to read lately, that my blog “has changed”. My blog is merely mirroring my life. As I sat all day yesterday getting through the two-hundred pages that I had to get done for class this morning, I thought back to last year. I was living it up in SoCal, with some guy I found amazing, barbequing with him and his friends… and later hiking to the cliffs overlooking Laguna where I drunkenly made-out with one of his girlfriends. Later he and I had sex all over his house, only to wearily rise the following morning and head off to an office where I could blog about it.

Yesterday I canceled all of my plans with friends, hung out at home reading, took a nap and read some more. Last night I went to my sister’s for a barbeque and read some more, allowing her friends to think me some bland nerd that couldn’t tear herself away from a book. I finished in time to watch some fireworks, and headed home to bed. (I hope your heart isn’t racing with the excitement of my life.)

I am not complaining. I am having a good time, but then don’t find the time to write about it. Last week I went to “Thirsty Thursday” with my stepbrother (who, btw, told me, “You have a great rack”), his girlfriend, stepsister, and some other guys. We consumed cheap beer and watched a baseball game, until they did last call in the seventh inning and we decided it was time to head elsewhere.

After bar hopping we went to a club, where, when one guy didn’t understand that by continually moving away from him I was trying to get his cock off from rubbing up against me, I elbowed him in the face (not hard, but enough to let him know that he was too close). He moved away while telling me how uncool that was to do. Gentlemen Boys, if I am not dancing back with you and your little hard on is pushing up against me as I move away from you on the dance floor, you are lucky you got away with an elbow-to-the-face-tap.

Saturday I joined my mom and step-dad down at the Portland Waterfront for the Blues Festival. They had decided it would be easier to rent a room in the hotel across the street for the weekend (and use nice bathroom vs. port-a-potties) then to drive home each day. I joined them there, ran into a few friends whom I spent a good portion of the afternoon with, and proceeded to get wasted on (again) the consumption of far too much beer.

I also proceeded to pass out (while wearing a little skirt and tank top) on the blanket near my parents (after my friends had left), thankful that my mother was gracious enough to cover me up, so my flower wasn’t exposed to the world. I made it as far home as their hotel room. Sunday morning I woke up a little fuzzy as to where I was, and upon the realization, I was mortified that the newly-wed couple (my mom and step-dad) can’t even get free time away in a hotel without me crashing it. Joyful.

But none of this is the fun and games of my frivolity of last year, my weekends filled with Topless on the Terrace parties, hanging with wild and crazy friends, partying, and coming home with naughty sex stories to share with you.

I am bit more bland, more boring…