Uh, does my T-shirt REALLY have "DORK" written on it???

-I have'nt been sleeping very well lately, things are swirling in my head like a rogue slushee machine. This causes brain freeze of a different calibur. Movies of your life play relentlessly without giving you popcorn confetti breaks or moments of Twizzler slappin' fun!

WHAT???

You have never experienced a Twizzler slapping fun time before? Well, well, well my innocent Twizzler slappin' virgin you- I am befuddled at your lack of candy abuse experience! I vow to take your Twizzler slapping virginity and leave you begging for 54 sour straw lashes in my wake...

*cough*

(Yes, I do realize I have issues, that is precisely why you like me!! Right?)

Any way I suppose I should get to the point of this post which is to expose myself to a little humiliation "Seductress style"

It was roughly 2:30 Am when my head finally concreted the fact that I was to be without slumber this night. I accepted my fate humbly and started to instantly crave sex and/or Jello through a straw. I obviously opted for Jello through a straw because the allure of that scandalous act makes me weak in the knees and trembling with passion. I then had the brilliant idea that the mail should be checked NOW!

This place, for some reason unbeknownst to me, has a gravel covering on the porch and sidewalk.

And even though I know that this gravel sidewalk acts like tiny razor blades impaling my super sweet and sexy feets, I still choose to traverse it, barefoot,,, because that's how I roll, yo.

The walk in that level of pain resembles slapstick comedy at it's best. My hobbling rush to get to the grassy patch in front of the gravel sidewalk that is infested with sticker bush weeds then ensues.

I realize that it might sound silly, trading one level of pain for another, but it still doesn't sound sillier that the fact that there are flip-flops right by the door and I am too lazy/stupid to take the time to don them and avoid this whole pain waltz in the first place.

I finally do get to the driveway and amble down torwards the mailbox, which along with mail, also happens to inhabit a larger than normal spidey and its, stickier than normal web. I have learned to reach in and ever so quickly and stealthily pull the mail out, avoiding both web and webmaker 96% of the time.

This would be the .04% that I dreaded.

As I did the OMG there is a @$%$##@! spider on my ^&%$#@ hand dance,,,,,,, police spotlights catch me in the act.

Oh,,,,, did I forget that they were patrolling more these days and "normal" people are not usually break dancing in front of their mailboxes at 2Am in the morning???

Yes, yes I did!

He edged forward.

I reach down to pull my t-shirt down a bit because I find that I am a little shy in police spotlights........*shrugs* Who knew??

The walk up the driveway and the accompanying dance of pain through the sticker weeds and "shards of glass" gravel sidewalk could only be more animated now that I added the pull the t-shirt down ritual.

His beams were getting closer.....

I too was getting closer to the safety of my door and my hopefully anonymous escape that it offered.

But then,,,,

,,,,,this wouldn't really be MY story if that happened now would it?????

.....to be painfully continued.....

There are absolutes in my life.

I always wear sparkles-I love green olives AND green jello-I am obsessed with Circus Peanuts and David Beckham's abs- I want to go into a little house and do very un-prairieish things to Charles Ingals whilst Mr. Edwards enthusiastically sings: "Old Man Tucker" and plays spoons on his knees right outside the window-If I am at someone's house or business and they have ambient light, I secretly blow out the candles to smell the phospherous wisp of air and then act aloof when someone notices all the candles have been estinguished-I will trip on air but never seem to fall like the dude in the warning signs always does- I believe the risk of salmonella poisioning is minimal compared to the joy of eating raw cookie dough-I still love Santa Claus, thumb war and Vodka, but not always in that order-

Just another day in the life.....

My brain is tapped out for comedy or even a smidgen of intellectual banter of the written persuasion.

This is an example of what my mornings look like:

Middle kid has been sick all night,, middle kid is the Drama Queen of the universe,, Mom wishes ANYONE else but the Drama Queen of the universe would be sick,, ANYONE!!!! (I say again for dramatic purposes) Mom gets no sleep,, oldest spawn gets a little amount of sleep,, oldest spawn is mean when she gets a little amount of sleep,, oldest spawn screams and refuses to wake up,, youngest child awakens and acts like a happy Disney character,, happy Disney characters are very freaking irritating early in the morning,, Mom feels like a Disney villain ,, there is much crying and exaggeration of illness symptoms from middle child,, Mom is trying very hard to be sympathetic and engaging while much crying and exaggeration of illness symptoms ensues from middle child,, Mom goes on an imaginary strike,, imaginary strike does not last long,, the children want,, what do they want??

What could they POSSIBLY want, you ask sweetly:

Everything,,

Mom has nothing to give but love,, they want more than love,, Mom deduces children must have completed advanced underground training courses in aggravation,, Mom concludes children received A+'s in the advanced underground training courses in aggravation and are now just showing off their skills,, main toilet overflows BEFORE 6AM,, Mom does not feel pretty when toilets overflow,, it makes her sparkles dull,, Mom cleans over-flowed toilet bathroom while cursing under her breath and NOT feeling pretty,, there is still much middle child gakking,, there is much ado about said middle child gakking,, middle child's symptoms advance quickly,, middle child starts getting sick from both ends now,, Mom discovers middle child getting sick from both ends moments too late,, Mom cleans up mess from middle child getting sick from both ends which she discovered moments too late and again does not feel pretty,, Mom tries hard to feel pretty,, she fains a smile,, Mom still does not feel pretty,, did mom EVEN put on sparkles today??? Mom determines that it really is too early to go back to bed and thinks about resorting to copious amounts of alcohol and wishing Xanex grew on the tree in the front yard so she could partake in it heavily..

Mom determines it is too early for Xanex and copious amounts of alcohol,, but realizes that had it been 15 minutes later,, this may have been acceptable behavior to everyone EXCEPT Dr. Phil,, Mom realizes that even Dr. Drew would have partaken in this blatant attempt to cope.. He would suggest rehab start tomorrow and offer me a hit on the downlow.. I love chocolate so I would accept..

*The following is an Invisible Seductress PSA*

Just say "NO" to drugs.... But "HELL'S YES" to chocolate!!

Mom would leave town,, but deduces that the children know her name and would inevitably follow her screaming it,, making the scene look somewhat sketchy,, Mom makes plans to change her name and NOT let her children know what her new name is..

Mom realizes the only way out of this bad day that has just started is to face it head on with humor,, Mom starts telling bad jokes and feels a little bit better,, youngest child drops too full bowl of fruity,, nutritionally void cereal on the nice shaggy rug,, Mom cries a little and looks to the sky and screams:

"REALLY ???"

Mom glances at her children,, one is crying because he dropped his too full bowl of fruity,, nutritionally void cereal on the nice shaggy rug even though he will eat breakfast at the sitters and this was sort of a "snack" anyway,, son STILL doesn't understand mom's "snack" philosophy.. One girl is crying because she is sick from both ends even though she is not cleaning it up and has a cool cloth on her head and a sweet mommy rubbing her back,, one kid is cross armed and all attitude because her little sister kept her up all night,, Mom sucks it up and apologizes for the bad morning,, Mom proclaims her love for children, promises that the day will get better and hugs each child individually (although sick middle child gets a half hug pat thingy because she still looks green)..

Kids say:

"I love you Mom!"

This is said almost in perfect unison,, Mom now feels BEAUTIFUL!!!

Her sparkles begin to shine once more,,

...until the car stalls repeatedly before even leaving the neighborhood and youngest child,, who sits in back of mom powerpukes and mom swears the puke was perfectly aimed to fly into the square hole in the back of her head rest.....

"REALLY???"

And then he starts to sing because now he feels better,, guess what is more annoying than a happy Disney character first thing in the morning?? A happy Disney character IMMEDIATELY after powerpuking through the square hole in the back of your mother's head rest...

The End.

Please enjoy my favorite clip from Family Guy:

Snuggledog's story: Pee'd on and Tee'd off!

Snuggledog lives a charmed life. In the arms of his boy, he is
warm, safe and always in the lap of luxury. At night, he has a pillow and his own special spot tucked in bed, under the blanket, cradled in Traxx's arms.

He is the head of the stuffed animal mafia and calls all the shots in the toy box. He has watched Toy Stories 1,2 AND 3 and is very aware of the importance of his position in a childs life.

A restful nights sleep depends on him. The other "lesser" stuffed animals need him to delagate out time away from the toy box to be engaged in play with Traxx. He has made sacrifices to gain the position of "top dog" in my son's life.

This is just one such story of Snuggledog's sacrifice and the power and magic of a boy's love.

The following story is written by Snuggledog as translated by me. Apparently Snuggledog has a southern girl's accent, not sure why and it is a bit disturbing but you should read the story in that way to best enjoy it.

It was a hot summer evening in the heart of the south, cicada bugs sit screaming on prickly branches as the sun sings it's swan song. Mamma had worked all day in the fields courting gentlemen with her curtsy and bows, whilst my boy had labored tirelessly at being a Stealth Bomber of energy and light. Oh, he is a sight to behold, I declare, a cold glass of lemon infused sweet tea if I might say! (see, weirdly southern right?)

My boy had drifted off to sleep on the long car ride home as I whispered of snails and puppy dog tails in his ear. Mamma lifted him out of his carseat and pointed us in the direction of the door, lovingly reminding him to use the restroom before laying down for the night.

He took me; Snuggledog, his faithful friend, into the loo room.

Still groggy from all of the day's tasks, he began to relieve himself with spotty aim in the porcelin pot.

Mamma asked him to mind this infraction. Her normally soothing and sultry voice must have startled the child as he lost his hold upon me and I fell into the toilet bowl to be pee'd upon.

My boy couldn't help it, he had tried to stop, but he could'nt stop the flow of urine from molesting me.

I declare, I swallowed all the fresh air I could whilst doggie paddling for my furry life as my boy screamed at the horrific discovery.

Mamma assured him I would be fine and went to get a bag to aid in my travel to the washing machine so I wouldn't drip the toilets toxic water on her sparkling floor.

Oh how my boy screamed for my safety as Mamma put me in that plastic grocery bag:

"He will cufficate in that bag mom!! He'll cufficate!!"

Mamma gently pulled my head out so I could breathe and as I took those deep breaths, Mamma allowed Traxx to kiss the tip of my right ear (as it was the only untarnished patch of fur), before she was brought to the task of depositing my newly soiled body into the darkness of the washing machine.

The boy realized that he was to be facing the night without my charms and again voiceforously presented his saddness to Mamma:

"Snuggledog is the ONLY friend I sleep with!! He is my favoriteist aminal!! I CAN'T sleep without Snuggledog!!"

His tears flowed freely as I began to gargle loudly in the soapy water, thus signalling for Mamma to lift the lid to the washer and heed my sweet voice.

"Let the boy sleep with Grandpa Bear tonight" I told her.

"Grandpa Bear will protect and keep him warm!" I continued, in my quest to comfort him.

Mamma told the boy of my valiant biddings.

The boy shrugged off the idea of Grandpa Bear's love at first out of his devotion for me, but Mamma wisely spoke to him once again:

"It's the way Snuggledog wants it, we have to be strong FOR HIM!!"

Mamma is so brave and astute! She is also a fine and wonderful virtuoso translator of stuffed animal linguistical matters.

Yes, I suffered a little collateral damage in the washer and squealed in the dryer at the abuse, and I still do have signs of the torture around my right eye, but the lesson of love is a battle of a sparkling heart and mine shined that day!

When I was reunited with my boy, he asked Mamma if she would have had to throw me away if there had been poop in the loo and I got it on me.

Mamma jokingly, but also a tad cold heartedly replied:

"Yes" upsetting my boy.

He questioned her answer once again:

"If I got poop on ME, would you throw ME away??"

"Yes" Mamma joked once more.

"But I'm YOUR KID!!" he stated strongly.

"Yes, and I will ALWAYS love you.....AND Snuggledog!!!"

And we all laughed and laughed.

This is a test of the emergency seductress system. Had this been an actual seduction, instructions would follow...

Seriously, I miss you guys! This cell writing is tough-but reading is even tougher! But I do read you all, but then commenting is hard. I miss this badly. But I do receive some questions and will now answer a few of them because I love you so... You feel it?? The love?? You feel it don't you? I can tell because your paw is tapping the ground when I rub behind your ear like this!!

Q: If you ever came face to face with an Invisible Seductress in her natural habitat, how would you attempt to woo her?

A: Although Invisible Seductress sightings ARE rare (as wild creatures cannot be tamed), there is a small chance that you may one day experience her lure and wile. This is even more intriguing if she has been recently sparkled. However, a word of caution is warranted here; you may find yourself inundated with giddy "Glee Episode" like joy and smarm, christened with excess sparkles and an uncontrollable longing to float in industrial sized green Jello vats on large pineapple rings (cut on the diagonal, of course!) Furthermore, you may also start to look at simple things in a completely new and delightful way. Circus Peanuts, for example, start radiating the warmth and fuzzy feelings of a childhood long past. In the canned meat aisle of your local grocery store, you may burst out singing the praises of Spam, (expertly accompanying yourself with the finely tuned instruments you created lovingly out of Sporks, road-found combs, partially used toilet paper tubes and a smattering of the beautiful light-amber colored Spam coagulant substance you have been saving at home,,,, (because it adds that "little something extra").

Note: The examples I have mentioned here are only a few of the "after effects" of a Seductress sighting, there would really need to be a personal empiricism to understand the gravity of the event, so I will move on to the next question.

Q: What would you do for a Klondike bar? (Please sing this question for your maximum enjoyment)

A: I feel this is an unfair question because you are not actually offering to bequeath to me a Klondike bar. You are in essence going to judge me on my dedication/willingess to perform grand actions of uncharacteristically bizarre or embarrassing feats to "sweeten the kitty" or be rewarded with a Klondike bar. I also feel the premise of the Klondike bar commercial is being misapprehanded here. Where the commercial offered positive and instantaneous Klondike bar gratification for an act that was completely "on the fly" or without premeditation, your question suggests that a totally different strategic position must surface. There would be much more time to conjure up a grandiose reaction thus ENSURING that the individual would demonstrate a much higher level of dedication and AUTOMATICALLY be gifted the Klondike bar in a much publicized reward ceremony. Furthermore, you,,, in a blatant defiant act of cruelness,,, do not even TRY to produce the mere "offer" or thereafter show the actual ability of delivering that sweet, sweet prize to me or another brave undertaker of the feat in question. So once again, as to not be tautological, I will move on to the next question.

Q: Your posts are very long, and as much as I love reading them, sometimesI have to skip through. Have you considered a less wordy way of writing posts?

A: Yes

Q: Seductress, why doest thou hold court alone? Surely with thoust divine beauty, supreme intelligence and "spot on" comedic timing,,,, along with being the most humblest Goddess of light and sparkle in the country,,,, surely you wouldst have daily lines of amazing suitors at your beck and call, Why doest thou dance as a half in a land of many wholes??

Note: Ok, so maybe I wrote this one, but surely thoust does wonder,,,, at least ONE of my royal court should step up "Batman villain style" and "riddle me this" by mentioning this daunting quandary of mine!! If not then they have not heardst the ruling put forth by the divine goddess of light and sparkle in reference to the beheading of any who scoff at my dating status,,, well,,, at least a public scoffing anyways.... And seriously, you have to admit: "Why doest thoust dance as half in a land of many wholes" really IS a great question!

A: I submit the following answerful for your perusal: Randomness.... I an VERY random. In my humor, in my quirkiness, in my clutzy endeavors to look suave in times of attraction to the opposite sex.

You want someone to flub a "come on line" --I'll do it! You want someone to humor you with jokes after I fall down a flight of stairs in front of you on the first date?--pick me! You swant someone who dances down the Cirxus Peanut aisle--*ooooh,ooooh *raising hand*

I guess when I was IN a relationship, I acted AS the relationship permitted. I was so lost in being everything that he needed (or so I thought) that I was scared to come out on my own. But now, I am a quintessential bit of weird and random and wondering if I even CAN fit into a "normal" relationship. Is it like the "riding a bike" thing? I hope not, because if it is, I would revert back into the girl who accepted being treated like an afterthought ALL of the time. So for the sake of logic, if men really DO want women to be organized and precise and are scared of a little whimsy and sparkles, I will submit the following formal resume for you to read at your leisure. Please suggest to me, in comment form, any changes that would need to be made in order to successfully complete the task at hand, which apparently, as stated above, is dancing on land as a whole.

My formal dating resume

The Invisible Seductress
Location:

Stuck in horse country where there really aren't handsome single horse tycoons walking around waiting to find me afterall.

Objective:

To build a meaningful stable relationship where my skills in sarcasm and seduction will be utilized to their fullest potential and a team environment thrives.

History:

Married too long to someone who couldn't care less about things.

Dated numerous men who were not able to stop dragging knuckles and stay erect, er, uh, I mean STAND ERECT (what were YOU thinking I meant? Geesh).

Skills:

Raising beautiful children on my own who are actually more mature than many of the men I have dated.

Can cook, clean, budget, bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, and never let you forget you're a man, cause I'm a woman! W--O--M--A--N...

.. and then say it again.....

Dang it, I just don't do "organized and precise" well at all do I??? I'm dooooooomed!!

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Ants are our friends!

Oh little ants, you'd think that after a few dozen of your scout ant bretheren failed to return from their mission, you would re-strategize and formulate another plan of attack and possibly another location to ship your scouts. You see, my bathroom is NOT filled with sugar mountains majesty and rivers of syruppy bliss to linger in. Perhaps retraining efforts should begin.

I have not had an ant problem since I moved into my first apartment at 19. I noticed around 3 ants on my counter and did what every single gal would do-go to Home Depot and look for a hottie to save you from your own fained ignorance. It was a great plan of attack and as the handsome gentleman corralled me to the pesticide aisle-I perfected my southern accent with some sweet giggles, took his advice and bought some clear stuff with a picture of a cross-eyed ant on it. The next morning after using the treatment, the 3 ants turned into about 1,052, all swirling around my bait like it was nectar from the ant gods. The morning after that, there were about 2,978 ants on the counter. Approximately 33% of those were dead and had 3 or 4 mourners by their side, I was mortified. I cleaned it up and never used the nectar again. A day later, I only had one ant on the counter and a date with the home depot guy. After the date, I deduced that ant would have been better company for the evening.

Now this is the part of the story that will solidify your true thoughts and perceptions of me as a reader. You will add "certifiably crazy" to your list of Seductress traits. Hopefully nestled nicely behind: Quirky-fun-Circus Peanut eating, goddess of light and inspiration (cough).

You see, these ants are not pesty trailblazing ants. They are unusually large wanderers of peace. And if you cock your head and close one eye they are actually very cute. Their bizarrely long antennae buzz around happily, making them cartoonish in appearance. And you know how I love anthropomorphic things, well, these ants are straight from a Disney flick. And they are always there in the morning when no one but me and the Circus Peanut farmers are awake. And since I love to talk....

I talk to them.

I want you to know that I do understand that they may speak in a different language than I and they may only hear a series of chirps every time I open my mouth, but they do seem to listen, their antennae stop the swirling and focus on my every word, which is more than I can say for most humans.

I talk about things like how upsetting it is to wake up and find that a spawn shat in the middle of the night and it was too big to flush, and how this makes me feel less sexy than I should ALL day!!

I let them know how lucky they are that they don't have unruly coifs to style every morning.

I ask them if the Disney depiction of their existence in "A Bugs Life" is accurate, are they really living in the oppression of grasshoppers? Cause if so, I may have to take grasshoppers OFF my list of bugs I allow to live if found in my house, along with Lady Bugs, Daddy long leg spiders and Roly Poly's. This would give me a completely different political viewpoint and the death penalty may be warranted.

I ask them if ant sex is exciting, we laugh and laugh when they blush over the topic.

I question whether or not they had a choice in their career path, because being a long distance "over the road" ant scout must be strenuous. Is there hazard pay? You Know, for risks like, well, me??

And this is where the conversation turns a little morbid. I have them choose their fate. Would they prefer a watery ride on the loo, or a "to the point" squashing. Counter-clockwise twist of the antennae for the loo and clockwise for the squash. The squash always seems to win, but I assume it is only because antennae can not move counter-clockwise.

I do apologize to them that they do now have to die, but also explain that If it were up to me, I would gladly let them live. They come to an understanding that the girls do that "squealy girl thing" everytime they see one of their kind and the "squealy girl thing", as we all know, makes any rational human want to puncture their ear drums with those little fancy toothpicks you might find securing the layers on a Denny's club sandwich. I would use the pink topped ones (see, I knew you were wondering what color I would choose for this act of mercy, because I'm all intuitive like that).

But the real story here is about my son. He says that the ants are our friends and that we should not kill them. He is also the child that after I mistakenly told him that the grasshoppers that hang out around the front door must be "racing hoppers" because they are black with a bright yellow stripe, brought a dozen or so in the house while I was in the back room and was found laughing and slapping the tile to encourage "the racers".

I have watched him numerous times as he carefully scoops up a lucky ant and carries it gingerly to the porch, talking to it all along the way. He then slowly places them on the concrete and to the beginning of their new found freedom. He says a final sweet goodbye and pats them on the head,,, which promptly and ironically,,,

,,,, kills the ant in a "to the point" squashing fashion....

Thus is the circle of life... (insert Lion King music here)

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repost of my first eloquently written "Love Letter"...REVAMPED SEDUCTRESS STYLE!!! and sadly still teaches a lesson.....

I wanted to repost this because in looking back at my dating experiences since I wrote this post I can honestly say: WTF?!!

It seems, the further I delve into what are supposed to be the "happiest" and "funnest" single times of my life, the more I realize that maybe that 19 year old I thought I "loved" was actually a love "rocket scientist". That guy who wore tight ball busting jeans and a t-shirt that read: STUD FOR HIRE, to meet my preacher father for the first time, (causing our only "dates" to be on the front porch of my house for months) rivaled Einstein. He "got it", he knew that when/if it was meant to be, it WOULD be. And if it wasn't, then that would be OK too.

Maybe I STILL have it all wrong. Is the moment that I actually just accept my own life "as it is" and without the pressure of feeling "less than" because I don't have a husband or partner, the moment that a weight will be lifted off my shoulders and I can start to enjoy every breath without feeling "slighted"?

So, these are words that I wrote for a sweet faced love of mine. Words that as I wrote them, made me weep from the strength and joy I had thought I found. Words that haunt me again as I found them hidden (in rough draft form) in an envelope stuck in a chest full of other memories. The page was still punctuated with the tears of joy I had shed while writing and also the tears of pain shed after he left (insert empathetic sniffle here)... and now the tears of laughter at thinking he ever deserved these words in the first place!! But I was young (19), and he was my first "love"...

So without further ado, I give you:

THE LOVE LETTER
By: The girl who WAS invisible, but definitely NOT a seductress!!

Dear You,

Your words send me into a trance, it's only when I stumble upon the weakness that I have for you that I feel my own mortality. We are transcending time with each touch, like a stop motion camera watching a flower blossom in the spring. The petals of love soften and curl as they open fully to the morning rays, exposing a virgin soul that had otherwise remained hidden from the light, pure and sweet with its intentions. I await further ripening of my spirit with each breath you take, that lingers next to my skin. I pull to you closer and steal the heat away as I enjoy every part of your being. I am renewed when you look into my eyes, pushing me deeper and deeper into a loss of rational thought. I will give you all that I have and would offer all I ever will, if you were to stay here by my side, looking at me that way, feeding every carnal hunger.

It is much more than a love, but a journey into what all of us pray to find in another, a union of mind and body, separate and defined, but parallel on the path to our happy ending.

Love,
Me

Uh,, yea,, that SHOULD have scared the hell out of a normal 19 year old boy!!!!!!

No wonder he ran a few weeks after this!! This left me crushed and questioning my worth.

I now know that this is what I should have written to wooo him at at that very tender age...

Dear Megaman-awesomepants,

You still live with your parents, I have my own place and big screen TV with a remote control that loves the sports channel and soft porn. I also have a fake ID for beer, real tits that your friends all talk about and a blonde room mate who wants a "stripper pole".

You're stupid, but I won't call you on it. I'm smart, but I won't rub it in your face by using big words like: "antidisestablishmentarianism" in our daily conversations although I do feel that the antidisestablishmentarianism of the church has greatly improved.

I work at the bank so you may possibly be entitled to refunds when you bounce $15 checks buying clearance video games at Toys-R-Us. And buy me a Pez dispenser for our anniversary while you are there please!!

I think buffalo wings should accompany every date we go on and going "dutch" is awesome! I want your clothes to smell fresh so I will wash them with jasmine, and also,,,, please allow me to wash your feet and dry them with my hair, as done in biblical times.

When you fart it enlightens my senses. When you burp, I feel the love in the air. Size and time does not matter when I am with you, you are a sexy, sexy beast! The tracks in your underwear that lay on my floor, that I have to walk over to get out of the room, are even very sexy! And it's cool that you don't actually have to un-zip or un-belt your pants because they fall to the ground like you shrunk out of them ie: the witch in "The Wizard of Oz", I think clothes that fit are so over rated!

And YES,,,,, marijuana SHOULD be legalized because you say so! You create a very compelling debate for it when you are high, that is greatly accentuated with the cheez-puff dust on the corner of your mouth and the burn holes on your t-shirt from when you dropped the doobie in passing. When you screamed: "DUDE!!! I'm on FIRE,,,,, DUDE!!!" it was really, really endearing and the warm beer I put you out with worked very nicely!

Your friends are always welcome here as they are all geniuses. And it is OK that your ex-girlfriend still calls you in the middle of the night, you are very thoughtful to take the time to counsel her.

Oh, and I WILL support you until you get another job. I am sure your female boss just "imagined" you were flirting with her when you hand slipped off the King of the Burger's register and slapped her polyester clad rear end.

Love,
Me

Do you think he would have stayed then?

LOL(ing)

Young love and the lessons we have to learn the hard way!!!

Here's to hoping that the men my age have transcended that ignorance,, but still like cheez- puffs...

I'm still OK with cheez-puffs!!!

Please enjoy a classic snippet from the charming men of SNL:



HEY!!! I've danced with these guys!!!!

Note to self: AAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH *facepalm*.....

And PS: I love the "retro" comments too! I hope all of you have found great happiness in the months since this originally was posted and even though I seem to be in the same spot, I have since mastered scaring off an even more clueless set of men-- so--here's to all the single gals who are OK with their "weird catless cat-lady" futures if thats what they are meant to have...But if not....single men......watch out......we're coming for ya!!!!