***
Feel like such a bitch

Christ.
Mr. Big was all 'so you coming over to my place or not' And instead of thinking, oh that's sweet, you want my company, I go, 'Can't you be more tactful when you want my company?' (ie, you're so rude sometimes. Which he really can be. Really. He'd stand in front of the cashier line after he's paid for suff just because he wants to look at the little book for sale on the counter. Who said ALL Ang Mo men were generally more polite!)

I supposed I'm just really disappointed with the way I'm being treated. Which isn't bad really; but he could be doing more.
And then guess what? He tells me he wrote a poem and wants to give me a private recital. And because there's nothing that really touches me more then something absolutely personal, I seriously felt like kicking myself. And I go why oh why does this always have to happen. Say something that gets me pissed and then something that makes me feel like kicking the hell out of myself for being pissed initially.
I suppose I'm to make some sinfully sweet confection for him now, to make up for it.
*sigh!*

***

On The Boy.
Ah.
I finally got down to calling his land line in Switzerland, but the bastard's watching soccer at his friend's place!
Usually he's there for me, doing whatever I want him to; I suppose I see it in that way because we connect much better, I was much more tolerant towards him. And he's just really just more polite.

Meet me here, take me there to eat, I want to watch this movie before we go to bed. At THIS particular theatre. And he never disagreed because he's too smart to.
Spoilt me terribly.

Some nice emails from him when I came home this morning.
I always get a little ticked off when he sends me passion-less emails, so I didn't contact him for awhile, and he was all 'Oh, are you angry with me. I hope you aren't blabla'. Good.

***

I am so exhausted. I've fallen in love with Cayote. The guy who runs it is a perfect teddy. I wish I nailed that sweet French looking thing. But he was engaged to a woman who looked like a perfect sack in a polka dotted dress.

He was so evil though. When I made the 'L' for looser sign (don't want to dance with a pretty girl at a club? Then what the hell are you here to do?) he gave me the cutest psuedo-broken-hearted face ever. And licked his own fingers. *swoon* Bastard. He was so cute. Cuter then Prince William. I think so.

If my woman wasn't here I'd have all your babies tonight.

Well, uh okay. Very flattering.
I guess.

***

William took tons and tons of photos for the Teddy (the guy who owns the place). Will post as soon as I am slightly more rested. And when he wakes up and sends me the photos. Heh. I guess that's the most important step to getting up pics of half-drunk girls on the bartop. Get photographer to wake up and send photos first.

***

Oh another note.
Do you know that the term Slut only works in bed if the girl's below?
Go figure.

xoxox