Tonight, for the first time ever, I got hit on by an Albanian. I've been hit on by Irish guys, Scottish guys, Norwegian (sp?) guys, German guys, Puerto Rican guys, Spanish guys...even French guys, but never an Albanian before. I swear to God, I think he said his name was "Kasko" (Costco?), and that we should "go somewhere" and "have a good time" and he'd "treat me really good." Um...yeah. I explained to the delightful Kasko that, while the offer was enticing, I wasn't going anywhere with a guy who (literally) just got off the (commercial fishing) boat, and who couldn't look me in the eye when I asked point blank if he was married. To his credit, he certainly made a good effort, and that was flattering given my current situation of being a sort of desperate bar studier - it's a terrible life right now, and I'm glad someone, even a drunk guy who probably hasn't seen a woman since Dutch Harbor, thinks I'm attractive enough to proposition, but still...I just don't think so.
So, off I go to bed. Alone, buzzed, and looking forward (or not) to another fine day of studying tomorrow.
Also, I had a cup of coffee today, which I never do because it makes me crazy, and I ran a red light and then walked out in front of a bus and almost got killed. I swear, coffee makes me feel simultaneously like I'm crawling out of my skin AND like a total space cadet. It's awful. Thank God for beer, which is the
depressant antidote to skin-crawliness.
