Sunday, September 30, 2007


EDIT: This post isn't going away until Friday so you might at well leave me a comment. Particularly if you ever have or ever want to call yourself my friend again. I'm looking at you and it isn't pretty.

Hi kids. You see my new masthead? The one where Jennith is viciously attacking me with what appears to be blood dripping down her face?

That so totally happened.

Now, you also see that blue box across the bottom of the masthead? That is where the tagline should go. The one I can't think of, so I'm asking for suggestions because I'm not thrilled with the one I came up with. So I'm taking requests and I will unceremoniously choose the winner on FRIDAY.

And the winner will win nothing but my love and adoration and I'll use the winner's tagline in the masthead you see above and I will write a VERY nice entry about how much this person means to me and how my life would be a worthless void without then and some other meaningless dribble. SO SEND IN YOUR ENTRIES TODAY! IN THE COMMENT SECTION!


EDIT: In case you were wondering, if you DON'T play along, I'll cry. And besides, those prizes? ARE AMAZING! You would rue the day you didn't enter this FREE contest and win those totally awesome, cooler-than-cool prizes. Did I mention this contest is FREE? Ohhh! Ohh! AND! And if the winner lives in Cincinnati, I WILL BUY THEM LUNCH. And if the winner doesn't live in Cincinnati I will... send them a dollar in the shape of an armadillo? Autographed?

I WANT MORE ENTRIES THAN TWO!!! And for the two who have already entered, I LOVE YOU!!!! XOXOXOX!!!

Saturday, September 29, 2007


Allow me to make a suggestion.

If you're looking to find yourself a distraction, might I recommend one who doesn't work 70+ hours a week? Because then, when he doesn't call when he says he will or is stupid enough to believe that you DON'T want to be invited out because you'd rather play a VIDEO GAME? (even one as cool as Guitar Hero), you'll know for absolute sure it's because he might not be all that interested, DESPITE all the flirtation and other less than subtle signs that you may want to cling to.

And to think, after our conversation on Friday, I thought we were making progress. Damn dude. No wonder your ex-girlfriend bailed out of this.

But it isn't all for broke. Last night, for the first time in almost a year, I went to an event my fraternity (Yes, I was a member of a fraternity. I've also been the best man in a wedding. AND THAT MAKES ME MORE OF A MAN THAN YOU.) and one of my brothers spent nearly the entirety of the evening hitting on me, only to yell after me as I was leaving, "If things don't work out with that 70 hour a week guy, you let me know because I'm only taking 13 credit hours so I'll have plenty of time for you."

Which is sweet, really, but I'm just not interested. No. No, really. I prefer my men to be helpless causes.

Around midnight I called 70 hour guy to tell him of my evening thinking he was still at work BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT HE TOLD ME HE WOULD BE DOING, only to find he was drunk at a bar and not really into taking my hints to invite me along.

Moron. Unfortunately, I'm not sure who is the bigger one though, him or me.

Thursday, September 27, 2007


Not that this will come as a surprise to most of you but I think I'm sick in the head.

No. Really. I think I have a sinus infection. The simple act of breathing has become laborious. Only one of my nostrils is working. When I'm lucky. And it wheezes. I sound like a sad, pathetic kazoo. You don't want to know what I coughed up this morning.

And the thing is, I PREDICTED THIS. From the very instantaneous moment I got my first noseful of overly chlorinated, yet disturbingly sludgy water I KNEW. But did I let that prevent me from swimming in the freaking freezing water and probably dropping my core body temperature dangerously low before some genius decided to check to see if the INDOOR POOL was heated?

Of course not.

AND did getting a second and then a THIRD noseful of questionable water prevent me from attacking the boys just to get an indian rug burn and one U-G-L-Y ass bruise, which... happens to... be on my ass?

Yeah, definately not.

Am I dumb enough to hope this goes away on it's own?

Yes. Yes, I am.

Bring on the cherry flavored NyQuil (What?! Sudafed makes me jittery).

Wednesday, September 26, 2007


I've been postponing writing this entry. It isn't something that happens to a girl every day. I mean sure, we all hope it will happen. Most of us day dream about it since the time we are little girls though, really, you can never truely plan for this day.

You see, gentle reader, I... am in love.

And his name is Guitar Hero II.

Our relationship had quite the rocky start. At first, I was hesitant. I didn't want to join in. I didn't want to be judged because of my lack of experience. You see, I'm not every good at coordinating my hands and Guitar Hero can be a cruel master. I knew deep in my soul that I couldn't stand his scorn should I fail to satisfy his every expectation.

And lo. I was right. That first night I attempted to please Guitar Hero was a disaster! I only made it part of the way through before being booed and mocked. I think there might even have been some crying and gnashing of teeth and I swore I would never touch his smooth, plastic casing and colorful, rainbow buttons again.

But, thankfully, that was not to be.

Friday, Guitar Hero and I ran into each other at a party. It was awkward at first. Particularly since he was hitting on everyone there. A player if ever there was one, that guy will do it with ANYONE. When I walked in I was determined to stick to my guns. I wasn't going to go down that route with Guitar Hero again. But then the peer pressure started and I had a couple drinks and my will power and morals went out the window.

Again, it wasn't good.

I fumbled, miserably, and didn't make it through before a repeat of my first time. But this time, rather than hanging my head in shame, it lit a spark of something deep within me and I decided I would be the one to change Guitar Hero's ways. I would be the one to win him.

I tried again and failed. And finally, on my forth attempt, I DID IT! Not well, mind you, but I could tell Guitar Hero respected my gut and determination. He even was so bold as to ask me back the next day to play. For hours. Despite Guitar Hero's roommate leaving and HAVING TO LEAVE A KEY BEHIND SO I COULD LOCK UP AFTER MYSELF.

I mean, it must be love. I can't stop thinking about him. I long for him throughout the day. I think I might even dream about touching his velvety keys. It pains me to not call him because that would totally give me away and I don't want to crowd him and scare him away. I'm even seriously considering having him move in with me even though he doesn't have a job and couldn't help me pay the rent.

But I NEED him. Okay, and maybe you don't understand. Maybe you think I'm moving too fast. Obviously, you've never been in love or you would STOP JUDGING ME!

I think Guitar Hero's roommate might read this. If you do, tell him to call me. XOXO!

Tuesday, September 25, 2007


"I used duct tape across the top of my screen so I wouldn't have to look at your new masthead. That was just mean. I don't know how I'm going to get that tape off now."

I still hold to the conviction that he asked for it.

Monday, September 24, 2007


4.5 weeks before due date:
"Put these two massive projects on your to-do list. They both need to be done in 4 weeks."

3.5 weeks before due date:
"Take off one of those massive projects. We're going to save it until January."

2.5 weeks before due date:
"My bad. Put that project back on your to-do list. How are you coming with that other massive project?"

2 weeks before due date:
"Remember that project I had you remove but then we added it back on? I need three or four examples. Tomorrow. Oh, and I'm sure you have plenty of time to add two more massive projects to your list along with all the other little things you are required to do every week."

"Ohhh. Yeah. That other pain in the butt project you work on regularly is due now too, isn't it? It's due in four weeks? Make it two. What? Why would you think I hate you?"

Sunday, September 23, 2007


I need a distraction. I need something, someone maybe, possibly, perhaps to keep my mind off of things.

I also say that knowing full well that I am not ready for a new relationship.

A distraction, I just need someone to go through the motions with me. Someone to think about, and yeah, maybe obsess over a little bit. Someone willing to make just a little bit of an effort, enough to keep me interested but not enough to be anything other than just that. Something fun that will keep my mind off of other things because yes. I decided, finally, in what may turn out to be not all that long ago, that I'm done. I'm over it. I'm moving on because this isn't healthy for either of us and I'm not helping by sticking around. And deep down, I KNOW this is the best thing for both of us. And I know now, having looked back on it with a clarity that wasn't there a few months ago, that we were broken and we were tattered despite my best attempts to think otherwise.

We weren't ready. We may never be.

I know all of that. I know it and I believe it. But then my favorite memory slips into my morning coffee and it gets under my skin. And it chafes and clings uncomfortably and I know I reek of it because I can feel it seeping out of my pores.

But I know. This isn't where either of us need to be or should be or any of the other psycho babble bullshit that people spout. But that doesn't make me any less lonely. Knowing doesn't make this any easier when I get like this, when my mind wanders despite my best attempts to thwart it.

I miss Man Friend.

I can't tell you the exact reasons because that is a memory I just don't want to share. I know I'll get better and I know in a couple days this feeling will pass. I know in a little while I won't feel so lonely.

It would just be really helpful if I had a good distraction because the one I thought I might have isn't working out so hot.

EDIT: Okay, it might be working out a little better now. Maybe. We'll see.

Friday, September 21, 2007


Me: "So what are you doing tonight?"

Asshole Friend: "Oh shit. I forget I need to call you about stuff."

Me: "... You people suck."

Thursday, September 20, 2007


"Bastard! How does it feel being the first person I've ever hit THAT I WORK WITH?!"

'You aren't supposed to hit coworkers. Didn't you watch the video?"

"Hit ON. I'm not supposed to hit on coworkers."

* * *

"Do you even know what my title is?"

"I know what we call you when you're not around."


"Come on! You walked right into that!"

* * *

"So how is your son?"

"... My son? What?"

"You know, he's 26. Lives in Alaska. Needs a good woman."

"Oh, ohhh. My son. He's good. He'll be home for Christmas."

"Really? So are you going to invite me to your family Christmas party?"

"Oh, definately."

* * *

"Did you get my text..?"

"7 a.m.!"

"Wait. What?"

"You texted me at 7 A. M.!"

((maniacal cackling))

"I picked up the phone and looked at the time and YELLED AT MY PHONE so that it might send the message back to you saying I cannot receive text messages until AT LEAST 8 a.m."

((choking giggles))

"My roommate even asked me who the hell I was talking to because 7 a.m.! I was all curling up hugging my pillow. You know what it's like to be hugging your pillow? I was all nice and warm and ASLEEP."

((chortle)) "I was eating breakfast."

"I wasn't!"

"Hah. I won't do it again."

"I'm texting you at 6 tomorrow!!!"

It will have been worth it.

* * *

I sent the link to my bloggity to a sort of, not really family member who I LOVE because she likes to be mean and catty with me but I only get to see her at special events which makes me sad in my pants (I may or may not have stolen that saying (number 30)). She wrote me back to tell me I'm not right. And that MADE ME PROUD.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007


My teeth ache. Specifically, my two front teeth. (Shutupshutupshutup*)

I am LOVING this. Let me tell you how much I am loving thing. I am loving this SO MUCH, I could die for joy of it all.

No, seriously. DIEDIEDIE!

Because guess who doesn't have dental?!

Ohh! Ohhh! ME!! ME!

And guess who could PROBABLY afford to go to the dentist but won't because a) I ain't spending that kind of cash to be told to take some advil**, and b) I HATELOATHEDETESTHATE the dentist?

MEEEEEEE! Oh God, it's meeeee!

Now guess who will be sitting here just sucking it up?

I think you get the point, but in case not: MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE ((inhale)) EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

*I swear to all you hold holy that if you EVEN start to sing that song to me, toothache or no, I will bite off your lips THAT is how serious I am. I have had that Goddamn song in my head ever since I thought up this post. At work. I DON'T KNOW WHICH PAIN IS WORSE!

**Unless, of course, they give me something stronger like vicodin, which would probably mean the trip AT LEAST pays for itself***.

***Note to those of you about to LOSE YOUR SHIT: (Like my mother, HI MOM!) I do not sell nor condone the selling of drugs under the table for spare cash. If I need spare cash I'll simply whore myself out for it. BECAUSE I AM CLASSY.


Seriously kids. I need to work on my charms and wiles because my career as a seductress is NOT off to a good start. I mean damn fellas! Look at that picture up in the masthead. LOOK AT IT!! Who WOULDN'T want to bite off a piece of that? WHO?

Tuesday, September 18, 2007


In a tragic turn of events, today I found out that the lead singer of All American Rejects looks eerily similar to my asshole ex-boyfriend. And seems to have about as much emotional range. Which means I have to hate him now on principle.

Good thing their music isn't that good.

Monday, September 17, 2007


(Alright you damn vultures! Here's your freaking post!)

Friday evening on my way home from work I receive a call from Matt of the E pursuasion (this may or may not matter later).

"Let's do something," he said as is his wont.

"Okay," I responded wittily. "What?"

"Dinner at my place?" he asked hopefully and the stars aligned and planets collided and it was decided BY THE GODS that there would be an O-R-G-Y of cheese and sause and noodle and veggies.

We ventured to the local Kroger to pick out way more squash than was necessary as well as an eggplant that, sadly, was not used for sexual favors.

Back at his place we began the arduous task of cutting all the freaking shit we bought. Okay. Okay. Let me rephrase. Matt:E and D.O. began the arduous task. I got to mix up the gooey, cheesey spread that I may or may not have smeared all over my body in a fit of orgasmic lust.

While it was going quite well, what with all the boys playing with sharp knives and the startling lack of blood, D.O. seemed to lack... form, shall we say? And as he cut his pepper, his wrist was held at such a painfully awkward angle that Matt and I were obliged, no COMPELLED, to point out just how big of an idiot D.O. looked. Specifically:

"You look like a gay guy with palsey." ~Matt:E

Others arrived and it was decided by Matt:E's smokin' hot Not-Girlfriend Kalie (because I spelled it wrong last time) that our little get together was seriously lacking some wine. So she bought some. And all us pansy ass light weights drank it all BEFORE gorging ourselves on lasagna.

That is the only reason I have for why the rest of this shit happened:

Me: "Did you say pants down?"

Matt:E: "No, I said hands down."

Me: "Oh. I guess I heard what I wanted to hear."

* * *

Jennith: "Show us the alien!"

Me: "Do you even know what it is?"

Jennith: "It sprouts out of his stomach?"

Me: "Oh sweetie. That's not his stomach."

* * *

It was somehow determined that D.O. was a god among men and could satisfy two women at the same time. Not merely because he is just THAT good, but because he's packing twice your typical standard regulation (he has two penises).

Me: "Would that make you a hermaphrodite?"

D.O. and Matt:E (in disgust): No! (Because seriously? My comment? Not the stupidest thing said folks)

Matt:E: It makes him more of a Double Dudite... Double Dude Delight!"

Me: "You could be in double mint gum commercials."

* * *

Now, you would think after the BRILLIANT conversations you just witnessed above that NO ONE WOULD EVER WANT TO LEAVE. That's what we thought, but D.O.? He had different plans and apparently, stupidly, thought he would go to bed early. Like at 11, which, L-A-M-E.

That's when someone threw out the idea that maybe, just maybe, D.O. would LOVE IT if we all piled on top of him.

And we did.

And then all hell broke loose.

Matt:E dove on first, slipping across D.O. like he was butter. Kalie, the Not-Girlfriend soon followed, pushing Matt:E further to make room. Only thing, D.O.'s bed doesn't reach the wall. There's about a foot gap between the bed and the wall, which Matt:E promptly fell down and Kalie on top of him.

She cried out for my assistance and was quickly shushed at Other Matt (or Matt:VD) slammed his door at us in anger. Heh. Oops. I giggled at her thoroughly, tickled pink at the sounds of Matt:E's groans of discomfort, before reaching an arm around her skinny waist (bitch) and hoisting her back up onto the bed.

Only to find her yelping in pain because her leg? It was stuck between the wall and the bed. Tipsy as she was, she continued her half-whispered pleas for help until I finally had the wherewithall to pull her leg free and clamor down the steps where we collapsed back on the couches in a fit of drunken giggles.



Why yes, this IS another post about my boobs. Because apparently THEY JUST CAN'T BE RESTRAINED.

This was never a problem I expected growing up. As a young girl it just isn't something you think will ever happen to you though I'm sure plenty of little girls in their training bras are wishing for the day that their full and buxom chests SNAP THE UNDERWIRE OF THEIR BRA IN HALF. AT WORK.

BEAT THAT, VOLUPTUOUS SISTERS! Not. To. Be. Restrained. Bras tremble at the mere sight of my cannons. BOOM.

Sunday, September 16, 2007


Dropkick Murphys
November 13

Now, I haven't heard much by the Dropkick Murphys HOWEVER I do like their style (I'm a HUGE fan of Flogging Molly), but at the same time, I feel like for me to go to that concert I would be an enormous poser.

Besides. It's on a school night. I realize I'm lame. No need to point it out.

Saturday, September 15, 2007


Self-righteous bitch. You would think after all our years together that mah Hair? She would know better. She wouldn't pick fights with entities that are bigger than she is but nooooo. She got up all in Humidity's face like she has a hope in the world, acting all big and bad, puffing herself up a pissed off cat.

Behold. Exhibit A:

Courtesy of Sarah Cool who doesn't yet know how courteous she's being. (HI SARAH!)

Now, I have to give my Body credit. She tried to talk Hair down. Body? She KNOWS. She done got knocked on her big ole ass by Humidity. She knows better than to mess with that crazy-eyed loon again. But Hair? She hasn't learned her lesson yet. Ohhh no. She goes right at Humidity who's just standing there with a smug "the hell" look up on her homely face (just sayin'). And I have to imagine that Humidity didn't mean it to be such an insult, but she ruffled Hair like Hair was 10 years old, and really? Can that be considered anything OTHER than condescending after you pass the age of 10? And see, that shit right there just pissed Hair off more and she ended up calling Humidity an ugly name (it may or may not rhyme with "lucking punt") and BAM! God, it was horrible. Humidity was all over Hair like a drunk prom date and Hair? I fear she may never be the same again.

But seriously! Hair is getting WAY too old for this shit. Bitch still acts like she's 12 with all that natural shine. YOUR SHINE HASN'T BEEN NATURAL SINCE YOU GOT DYED RED FOR THREE YEARS IN HIGH SCHOOL. I don't get it Hair. You just don't seem to appreciate that these things take effort or that that blue elixor from the gods I dantily brush through you every morning does NOT just grow on trees! NO! IT DOES NOT! And I know you waited (not quite) patiently for YEARS for me to finally pay you some mind and to care and put forth some effort but where do you get off acting like such a damn drama queen and attacking Humidity like that? HUMIDITY IS BIGGER THAN YOU! HIDE YOUR SHAME! You will behave properly or I shall be forced to take DRASTIC measures. SUBMIT! I RAISED YOU BETTER!

Gah. If it isn't the humidity it's the wave. WE DO NOT ATTEND SPORTING EVENTS! YOU WILL LAY YOUR ASS DOWN FLAT and you will like it or so help me God! You'll go the way of my Dad's hair but it won't be natural or gradual.

Thursday, September 13, 2007


It REALLY sucks that something was so fun and (relatively) innocent that happened so long ago can still cause so much guilt and self-doubt.

I don't think I'll ever be okay with this.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007


I may have had a conniption at work today. No one was involved and THERE WERE NO WITNESSES, so really. The chance is only slight. I mean, can you really see me, as cool, calm, and collected as I am, having a conniption? Most people, and I'm sure of this, when they think of me, the first word that comes to mind? Is unfazed. Unfazed by the hubbub of everyday life, unfazed by the stresses you masses so typically succumb to.


OKAY, FINE! FINE!!!! I am not like that AT ALL and I really did have a conniption at work. We're talking full on toddler-like trantrum, only without the noise. I didn't yell. I didn't scream. I didn't kick or throw or hit, but I did spasm in UNBRIDLED RAGE while hexing my computer with voodoo and willing it to SUBMIT! NOW! TO MEEEEEEEE! MY WILL, YOU PIECE OF JUNK! MINE!!!

Ohhhh, what, ass?! WHAT?! Do you have a PROBLEM with that? Because I'll cut you. Don't even think I won't.

Of course, I maintain the entire situation was NOT my fault. I didn't decide to highlight every damn thing on the screen even when I was only CLICKING ON ONE THING YOU BLOODY FREAKING BASTARD! And I didn't decide to mock and abuse me with not restarting but OH! You'll work when it says SHUT DOWN you cheap jezebel! Have you been cheating on me with another computer?! You found a better operating system, haven't you? HAVEN'T YOU?!!!! Tell me the truth! I bet you even have a virus now, don't you, even after I was so careful. WE USED PROTECTION YOU DIRTY SLUT!!! Don't you even accuse me of being involved in this! I....

I.. Oh. Hah. I see. Um, so you're working again? Heh. Okay, well... Carry on then.


(I may have forgiven the bastard for now, but I'm still vexed about the clicking thing.)

PS - I told myself after being H-U-N-G the hell O-V-E-R Sunday that I was never drinking AGAIN! That lasted until TODAY. IT IS TUESDAY, PEOPLE! Stupid job.

PSS - I was sitting at a light when I saw some guy STOP IN MY LANE, exactly were I was going, and his buddied leaned out the car to holla at some chick. After a few moments the playa got out so he could talk to this girl and his friend? The one in my lane. He threw on his hazards. Then the light changed and right about the same time I was going to lay on the horn, the guy in the car took off. WITHOUT playa, who ran UP HILL chasing after him.

I thoroughly laughed my ass off. Tonight better be a good night.

Monday, September 10, 2007


When I got up to my uncle's house on Friday he gave me the grand tour. Dad tagged along.

Uncle: And this is the master bedroom.

Me: This is where the magic happens, huh?

Uncle: Sure is.

Dad: Yeah, because it's a miracle if he gets any.

Me: I was going to say it was a miracle if he could get it up.

Uncle: Did I mention how happy I am you two are here?

* * *

Upon denting my shoe.

Dad: Which shoe did you scuff up?

Me: The right one.

Dad: No, smartass. Which pair?

Me: (Maniacal giggles) The black pair.

Dad: Sigh. You really are my kid.

Sunday, September 09, 2007


I was busying myself by shoving clothing and accessories into our luggage when someone rapped at the door.

My dad went to open it and in walked my uncle. "You guys ready to leave?"

"Give us ten minutes," my mom replied. "We'll meet you in your room."

He nodded his assent and left. Mom and I went turned back to check the hotel room for anything we'd missed.

Someone rapped at our door again. I opened the door to my uncle, again.

"What the hell room am I in?" he asked, a look of confusion hiding any embarrassment there may have been.

Mom and I giggled maniacally as we lead him to his room.

This is the same uncle who this weekend lost his pitching wedge when it slipped out of his hands and into a swamp when he was golfing in the pouring rain.

I love my family.

Thursday, September 06, 2007



Okay, maybe not a casualty. BUT WE HAVE DEFINATLY HAD A MAIMING. A heinous, horrible maiming, and what a tragedy it is for us all.

Today, I scuffed my new shoe. By running a cart into the heel of it. Do not ask me how.

Grief has befallen my fair city, friends.

Oh sure, you might be saying, silly girl is making a big deal about a pair of shoes. But they were ONE OF A KIND! So special in fact that you can by me another pair here and here and probably a few other places like DSW where I originally got them but wins a prize for the SHITTIEST WEBSITE AROUND. Also, if you feel the need to assuage my grief even further, I would also accept these as a consolation prize.

Size 9.5, please. I wait with bated breath.

Tuesday, September 04, 2007


In my high school days, you might be surprised to find out, I was NOT one of those girls who was interested in the bad boys.

I can tell you're in shock. I'll give you a minute to compose yourself (bastards).

No. No, I was much more interested in the guy who ended up being one of our three valedictorians. The only time I was ever interested in a bad boy was because he could draw. See, I was always attracted to the guys who were good at the things I wanted to be good at.

Nick was freaking brilliant. James was an amazing artist. Jamie could write what, at the time, I considered to be fantastic poetry. Not to mention he was my co-editor and we awkwardly smiled and flirted when no one was around to catch us.

And then there was Matt. He wasn't one of the trifecta, but he still had some potential. He could draw. Hell, I met him in sixth grade art class. He was smart enough to be in AP classes with me my junior year. And I'm pretty sure he might have had a crush on me.

Here's the stupid thing. I have never, EVER been good about realizing if someone is into me. And this hasn't gotten better with age.

There was a project we did our junior year for our History/English class. Everyone in class got to dress up in 20s attire and we had a Gatsby party (as in the Great Gatsby). We were so cool, in fact, the band nerds in class were playing us some big, bad swing. It was while the girls and I were cutting a rug when Matt walked up.

And he took my hand. And he asked me to dance. I assumed he meant he wanted to dance with all of us so I started to pull one of the girls along. And he said no. He just wanted to dance with me.

I was shocked because I didn't even think he liked me as a friend let alone asking me to dance IN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE. With him. Just us.

The embarrassment! The humiliation! No, I'm not even kidding!

The poor bastard. I was stiff and awkward and terrified. I didn't say two whole words to him the entire time we danced our clumsy swing and it had nothing to do with me not being interested. Rather, it was because at that point in my life he was the first guy to ever show ANY interest in me at all. To top that off, I was always terrified of misinterpreting someone's intentions and making an ass of myself so I went with what was safe. I just never thought anyone was interested.

And that brings me to today.

I am still unassuming. I just don't think guys are into me. So it surprised me when a co-worker said we should hang out sometime, first getting a drink, then offering to go see a movie I (innocently) expressed interest in.

My mom told me not to take my clothes off on the first date. She's a real bitch sometimes.


"How old are you now?"


"Yeah? I have a son about two years older than you."

"Oh? Is he single?"

"Yes, he is. He could really use a good woman."

"As in, not me, you mean?"


"No, no. You're right. I'm sorry. So what does he do?"

"Actually, he lives in Alaska."

"Oh! I've always wanted to visit Alaska."

"He's currently living in a cabin with no running water."

"Yeah, not so keen on visiting that part of Alaska."

Monday, September 03, 2007


Oh Lawdy was my weekend wild.

Uncouth. Uncivilized. An exercise in futility.

You see, fair reader, I hate my hair. H-a-t-e. HATE-HATE-HATE-LOATHE-DETEST-HATE.

"But why?!" you might be screaming at your computer screen. Who WOULDN'T want thin, fine, oily yet frizzy, slightly wavy (but not in a good way) hair?

I made a decision this weekend that rather than fight with that oh so slight wave in my hair I should just accept the fact that my hair is just not pin-straight (or even at all managable) like Bean's. I should try to work with what God has given me.

"I don't mean to start any blasphemous rumors/but I think that God has a sick sense of humor." (not sure about the name of the band)

After spending a shit ton of money on "product" for my hair, I made an attempt to curl it.


I KNOW better. I know better than to think my hair will do ANYTHING AT ALL FAVORABLE when confronted with a heated chunk of metal.

So then I made an attempt to let it air dry.

With mixed results. Yeah, it sort of curled, but it was also sort of crunchy and looked like it needed brushed. Badly.

And now? Now I'm just looking for suggestions. HELP ME!