Originally written 10/16/06
Anyone who knows me understands that my thought process contains no apparent logic. That is to say that I think and say the most random shit at any given time. Consequently, while brushing my teeth this morning I was wondering about the relationship obetween any 20-something female's two favorite childhood hunks: Zach Morris and A.C. (Albert Clifford) Slater.
While they rolled in the same gang, I couldn't help but wonder if they were actually friends or not. They went to high school together, they went on vacations together, they worked the same summer jobs, played on the same teams, schemed in the same scenarios and even attended the same college. However, there seemed to always be some sort of rivalry between them, especially when it came to their feverish vying for the affections of the lovely and talented head cheerleader, Kelly Kapowski.
Is it possible to really be close with someone who is in love with the same person as you? I mean, look around your own clique... would you say you have the same taste in opposite sex as your, say, best friend for example? I don't and I certainly can't think of a period when my type matched the type of the female closest to me at the time.
Coincidence? Perhaps, but looking at Zach and A.C., I find it difficult to believe that two people, especially 2 alpha males, can co-exist in such a close-knit environment sans serious animosity. Wouldn't it eventaully spur anger and jealously? If they weren't all the coolest kids in the school which required that they hang out with one another and if circumstances had been different, what would have become of their friendship?
Were they actually friends? Is it possible even in real life? These are the important questions we must be asking ourselves...
Monday, May 28, 2007
Licking eyeballs as a function of sexual purity.
Originally written 10/17/06
So, I’m a graduate student now :::GASP::: Yes, some idiot let me in. This makes me feel as though I should 1.) be more mature than the undergraduates and 2.) make more poignant statements than them. However, I see a problem with both thoughts: 1.) I’m not and 2.) I don’t.
Granted I’ve only got a year or 2 on these kids, but anyone who has graduated understands the world of difference between being 23 and out of school and 22 and a senior still. Those in Del Rossi’s gross anatomy class understand my (and others’…) maturity, or lack thereof. In our defense, the word “penis” is funny at any age.
At any rate, last week Del Rossi mentioned something about what happens when damage to a certain nerve occurs. I won’t bore you with the details, mainly because I have no idea what I’m talking about, but when cranial nerve V (correct me if I’m wrong) incurs trauma you lose the ability to blink. Immediately, I blurted out, “Yeah, then someone will be able to lick your eyeball.”
Allow me to take this opportunity to explain why this makes sense.
Don’t you guys remember those quizzes you used to take as an undergrad at your computer? Sparknotes.com? Okcupid.com? Well, I distinctly remember one of these was a purity test and one of the questions was, “Has anyone ever licked your eyeball?” The reason I remember this so clearly is because the kids at Penn were such incredible overachievers that they would try to look for ways to even boost their purity scores! Needless to say, I know a handful of people who have had their eyeballs licked.
While indeed I am random and usually make no sense at all (to other people), in this case I actually did. I’m upset that both my classmates and professor, understanding my lack of order, didn’t realize there was more to my statement.
Screw you all.
So, I’m a graduate student now :::GASP::: Yes, some idiot let me in. This makes me feel as though I should 1.) be more mature than the undergraduates and 2.) make more poignant statements than them. However, I see a problem with both thoughts: 1.) I’m not and 2.) I don’t.
Granted I’ve only got a year or 2 on these kids, but anyone who has graduated understands the world of difference between being 23 and out of school and 22 and a senior still. Those in Del Rossi’s gross anatomy class understand my (and others’…) maturity, or lack thereof. In our defense, the word “penis” is funny at any age.
At any rate, last week Del Rossi mentioned something about what happens when damage to a certain nerve occurs. I won’t bore you with the details, mainly because I have no idea what I’m talking about, but when cranial nerve V (correct me if I’m wrong) incurs trauma you lose the ability to blink. Immediately, I blurted out, “Yeah, then someone will be able to lick your eyeball.”
Allow me to take this opportunity to explain why this makes sense.
Don’t you guys remember those quizzes you used to take as an undergrad at your computer? Sparknotes.com? Okcupid.com? Well, I distinctly remember one of these was a purity test and one of the questions was, “Has anyone ever licked your eyeball?” The reason I remember this so clearly is because the kids at Penn were such incredible overachievers that they would try to look for ways to even boost their purity scores! Needless to say, I know a handful of people who have had their eyeballs licked.
While indeed I am random and usually make no sense at all (to other people), in this case I actually did. I’m upset that both my classmates and professor, understanding my lack of order, didn’t realize there was more to my statement.
Screw you all.
Icon or Iconoclast? Celebrity throughout our ages.
Originally written 10/20/06
Being in our early 20s, we're now at the age when we've been alive long enough to witness the progression of basically a generation of celebrities. We're from the era of children who were raised on TV and TV tag; that is an equal proportion of media and the outdoors. While children today are being raised exclusively with technology, I feel as though we have a better grasp of reality.
This leads me to my first question: What the fuck has happened to our favorite celebrities? I was never into tabloids before VH1 recently over-took, some would say destroyed, my life and now I'm completely entranced by the seemingly endless changes in celebrities who were once picture-perfect icons.
Today, I ask you, "Icon or iconoclast?"
Tom Cruise
Here's a guy who was once the poster-child for Hollywood. He can now be seen on morning talk shows psycho-babbling about things he knows nothing of and calling people "glib", on daytime TV jumping on couches while professing his love for someone half his age and on magazine covers with his co-stars in life, Katie and Suri. Tom, do you even know the origin of Scientology?!?!
Brad Pitt
Once dubbed "The Sexiest Man Alive," I feel as though Angelina Jolie has transformed our favorite stud into an egotistical recluse. Both the quantity and quality of Brad's recent films have plummeted and, aside from baby-making, the most we've heard of Brad include the following: 1.) He was quoted as saying that he would not marry Angelina Jolie until it was legal for homosexuals to marry and 2.) issues regarding Hurricane Katrina relief. While both are noble efforts :::cough:::, who the fuck do you think you are?! Oh Brad, I long for your Jackass days again...
Britney Spears
What took Tom and Brad 10-20 years to ruin, Britney accomplished in just 5 short years. When I was in high school, she was "IT"; guys wanted her and girls wanted to be her. Suddenly, the cracks began to show after her much publicized split from my personal fav, Mr. JT (what you got for me?). Rumors of heavy smoking, drinking, partying and late-night dance-offs in hot LA nightclubs swirled. She got married randomly in Vegas and then she got married randomly in real life, which was the beginning of the end because someone said, "Let there be 'Chaotic.'" And now, she has dark hair, a white trash lifestyle and 1,000,000,000.3874 babies.
I can totally understand why reality shows like "Breaking Bonaduce" are wildly popular. They completely exploit not the icon, but the iconoclast. We have these images in our heads from childhood that stick with us throughout our lives. When what we've known deviates from what we're seeing, it's like sensory input overload (i.e. pure devastation).
What I guess I'm saying is that we really need to promote the cultivation and development of some really great publish relations people so that our children won't feel the same devastation we feel when a childhood icon goes from just that to an adulthood iconoclast.
Being in our early 20s, we're now at the age when we've been alive long enough to witness the progression of basically a generation of celebrities. We're from the era of children who were raised on TV and TV tag; that is an equal proportion of media and the outdoors. While children today are being raised exclusively with technology, I feel as though we have a better grasp of reality.
This leads me to my first question: What the fuck has happened to our favorite celebrities? I was never into tabloids before VH1 recently over-took, some would say destroyed, my life and now I'm completely entranced by the seemingly endless changes in celebrities who were once picture-perfect icons.
Today, I ask you, "Icon or iconoclast?"
Tom Cruise
Here's a guy who was once the poster-child for Hollywood. He can now be seen on morning talk shows psycho-babbling about things he knows nothing of and calling people "glib", on daytime TV jumping on couches while professing his love for someone half his age and on magazine covers with his co-stars in life, Katie and Suri. Tom, do you even know the origin of Scientology?!?!
Brad Pitt
Once dubbed "The Sexiest Man Alive," I feel as though Angelina Jolie has transformed our favorite stud into an egotistical recluse. Both the quantity and quality of Brad's recent films have plummeted and, aside from baby-making, the most we've heard of Brad include the following: 1.) He was quoted as saying that he would not marry Angelina Jolie until it was legal for homosexuals to marry and 2.) issues regarding Hurricane Katrina relief. While both are noble efforts :::cough:::, who the fuck do you think you are?! Oh Brad, I long for your Jackass days again...
Britney Spears
What took Tom and Brad 10-20 years to ruin, Britney accomplished in just 5 short years. When I was in high school, she was "IT"; guys wanted her and girls wanted to be her. Suddenly, the cracks began to show after her much publicized split from my personal fav, Mr. JT (what you got for me?). Rumors of heavy smoking, drinking, partying and late-night dance-offs in hot LA nightclubs swirled. She got married randomly in Vegas and then she got married randomly in real life, which was the beginning of the end because someone said, "Let there be 'Chaotic.'" And now, she has dark hair, a white trash lifestyle and 1,000,000,000.3874 babies.
I can totally understand why reality shows like "Breaking Bonaduce" are wildly popular. They completely exploit not the icon, but the iconoclast. We have these images in our heads from childhood that stick with us throughout our lives. When what we've known deviates from what we're seeing, it's like sensory input overload (i.e. pure devastation).
What I guess I'm saying is that we really need to promote the cultivation and development of some really great publish relations people so that our children won't feel the same devastation we feel when a childhood icon goes from just that to an adulthood iconoclast.
"Judge with Budge": Love homeostasis
Originally written 10/27/06
In honor of my upcoming exam in neuromuscular prescription, I will be using positive and negative feedback mechanisms of the body to demonstrate my take on how singles judge whether or not they want to begin/pursue a relationship with another person. This is mainly because I'm an incredible loser and any attempts to flood my inbox to discourage the idea will be futile.
First off, I will begin by giving a brief overview of feedback mechanisms and their components which are tools in homeostatic environments. Positive feedback is when the final response perpetuates more of the same. Negative feedback is when the final response is in opposition to the initial stimulus. Servomechanisms provide information on the current status of a system and are fed back in to help regulate.
Secondly, all information in the preceding paragraph is probably incorrect.
Finally, I will take this opportunity to explain how this relates to love. I recently created a "Judge With Budge" theory to relationships and it goes as follows: The more you are willing to compromise what you want most for another person (your "budge") is directly proportional to your interest in him/her (your "judge").
To put this in the context of real life I will give an example. In college I got into the habit of not going out on week nights which carried into the real world with my full-time job. I had to get up early and was not willing to compromise a good night's sleep for a good night on the town. Then, I met someone who used to keep me out until 3 AM on week nights when I had to be up at 8 the next morning. My interest in him made me budge from what I really wanted.
The aforementioned example could be classified as positive feedback. The time spent with the mother fucker only caused me to hang out with him even more. The servomechanisms could be defined as attractive qualities. My interest in his personality, sense of humor and good-looks told me that I wanted to continue spending time with him.
For an example of negative feedback, I will give you... hmmmm, so many to choose from! Let's take this guy from work who asks me to marry him at least twice a week. The more he continues to hassle me for a relationship, the more I want him to stay the fuck away from me. The servomechanisms in this instance would be his sheer desperation and inability to hear what I'm saying ("NO!") amongst MANY others.
Now that I've released my "Judge With Budge" theory, I shall discuss application. My suggestion based on the theory would be to never budge too quickly because then you end up pretending to be someone you're not by compromising who you are. Also, make sure you clearly define your servomechanisms and be conscious that they're beneficial, not detrimental.
In closing, relationship building is nothing more than a homeostatic environment controlled by feedback mechanisms. Now that I've got the physiology all figured out, all I have to do is work on the chemistry...
In honor of my upcoming exam in neuromuscular prescription, I will be using positive and negative feedback mechanisms of the body to demonstrate my take on how singles judge whether or not they want to begin/pursue a relationship with another person. This is mainly because I'm an incredible loser and any attempts to flood my inbox to discourage the idea will be futile.
First off, I will begin by giving a brief overview of feedback mechanisms and their components which are tools in homeostatic environments. Positive feedback is when the final response perpetuates more of the same. Negative feedback is when the final response is in opposition to the initial stimulus. Servomechanisms provide information on the current status of a system and are fed back in to help regulate.
Secondly, all information in the preceding paragraph is probably incorrect.
Finally, I will take this opportunity to explain how this relates to love. I recently created a "Judge With Budge" theory to relationships and it goes as follows: The more you are willing to compromise what you want most for another person (your "budge") is directly proportional to your interest in him/her (your "judge").
To put this in the context of real life I will give an example. In college I got into the habit of not going out on week nights which carried into the real world with my full-time job. I had to get up early and was not willing to compromise a good night's sleep for a good night on the town. Then, I met someone who used to keep me out until 3 AM on week nights when I had to be up at 8 the next morning. My interest in him made me budge from what I really wanted.
The aforementioned example could be classified as positive feedback. The time spent with the mother fucker only caused me to hang out with him even more. The servomechanisms could be defined as attractive qualities. My interest in his personality, sense of humor and good-looks told me that I wanted to continue spending time with him.
For an example of negative feedback, I will give you... hmmmm, so many to choose from! Let's take this guy from work who asks me to marry him at least twice a week. The more he continues to hassle me for a relationship, the more I want him to stay the fuck away from me. The servomechanisms in this instance would be his sheer desperation and inability to hear what I'm saying ("NO!") amongst MANY others.
Now that I've released my "Judge With Budge" theory, I shall discuss application. My suggestion based on the theory would be to never budge too quickly because then you end up pretending to be someone you're not by compromising who you are. Also, make sure you clearly define your servomechanisms and be conscious that they're beneficial, not detrimental.
In closing, relationship building is nothing more than a homeostatic environment controlled by feedback mechanisms. Now that I've got the physiology all figured out, all I have to do is work on the chemistry...
Why -->this girl<-- ignored him
Originally written 11/15/06
So Lee, as I was telling you on the phone last night/this morning, I met this guy at the gym. I thought he was cute and when he asked for my number I saw no harm. We began getting to know each other through phone conversation which is when he first tricked me into believing he was normal.
We decided to meet up one night and he picked me up at my house. I got in the car, we greeted and it was all downhill from there. Immediately, he blasted the radio and started singing really bad R&B tunes at the top of his lungs. He was not good... In fact, he was terrible.
So much for the "get to know you" portion. It was about this time that I desperately looked for the cameras thinking that I was possibly on an ambush version of "Blind Date."
After what seemed like a 50 year car ride (it was only 5 minutes) we arrived at the restaurant and were seated. *Cue the awkward silence. I kind of just sat there and looked around while he said nothing. Finally, I just said, "So, want to like ask me questions or have a conversation?"
To that he responded, "Sure." *Cue awkward silence again, this time with intermittent "ummms" and "uhhs" because conversing is so absolutely difficult. After about 2-3 minutes of this he asks, "If you could change any 2 things about yourself, what would they be and why?" What?! What kind of first date question is that? Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad if it didn't roll into incessant chit-chat about his ex-girlfriend, but I don't know these things.
I rushed through my food alone, seeing as to how he ordered nothing. I wrapped up the remains and we got back in his car. When both doors were closed he mentioned something about the smell of onions emanating from my doggie bag. He reached into his back seat and sprayed it with air freshener. Yeah, air freshener on my food.
At this point, I was completely checked-out of the date, and all this only in the time span of about 30-45 minutes! On the drive back home, I did as Alicia does and burped. Had I been into him it wouldn't have happened, but I really didn't care AT ALL. He handed me a bottle of Scope (the he had in his CAR) and goes, "Here, use this."
"What for," I asked, confused.
"Because I might want to kiss you later."
I threw the bottle at him and cursed him out a little bit. We got to my house and I couldn't get out of that damn car fast enough. I was just stepping into my room my cell rang... it was him.
"I just wanted to let you know that I had a really great time and I can't wait to see you again."
What the fuck date was this ass clown on?! And like I told you during our convo, he called me about 5 times after that, and I didn't respond to one. He left the token desperation message: "In case you haven't called me back because you lost/broke your phone, here's my phone number..."
So, naturally when he found me on MySpace 2 months later, you can see why I ignored him when he asked me if he wasn't my type. Am I still a bitch?
So Lee, as I was telling you on the phone last night/this morning, I met this guy at the gym. I thought he was cute and when he asked for my number I saw no harm. We began getting to know each other through phone conversation which is when he first tricked me into believing he was normal.
We decided to meet up one night and he picked me up at my house. I got in the car, we greeted and it was all downhill from there. Immediately, he blasted the radio and started singing really bad R&B tunes at the top of his lungs. He was not good... In fact, he was terrible.
So much for the "get to know you" portion. It was about this time that I desperately looked for the cameras thinking that I was possibly on an ambush version of "Blind Date."
After what seemed like a 50 year car ride (it was only 5 minutes) we arrived at the restaurant and were seated. *Cue the awkward silence. I kind of just sat there and looked around while he said nothing. Finally, I just said, "So, want to like ask me questions or have a conversation?"
To that he responded, "Sure." *Cue awkward silence again, this time with intermittent "ummms" and "uhhs" because conversing is so absolutely difficult. After about 2-3 minutes of this he asks, "If you could change any 2 things about yourself, what would they be and why?" What?! What kind of first date question is that? Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad if it didn't roll into incessant chit-chat about his ex-girlfriend, but I don't know these things.
I rushed through my food alone, seeing as to how he ordered nothing. I wrapped up the remains and we got back in his car. When both doors were closed he mentioned something about the smell of onions emanating from my doggie bag. He reached into his back seat and sprayed it with air freshener. Yeah, air freshener on my food.
At this point, I was completely checked-out of the date, and all this only in the time span of about 30-45 minutes! On the drive back home, I did as Alicia does and burped. Had I been into him it wouldn't have happened, but I really didn't care AT ALL. He handed me a bottle of Scope (the he had in his CAR) and goes, "Here, use this."
"What for," I asked, confused.
"Because I might want to kiss you later."
I threw the bottle at him and cursed him out a little bit. We got to my house and I couldn't get out of that damn car fast enough. I was just stepping into my room my cell rang... it was him.
"I just wanted to let you know that I had a really great time and I can't wait to see you again."
What the fuck date was this ass clown on?! And like I told you during our convo, he called me about 5 times after that, and I didn't respond to one. He left the token desperation message: "In case you haven't called me back because you lost/broke your phone, here's my phone number..."
So, naturally when he found me on MySpace 2 months later, you can see why I ignored him when he asked me if he wasn't my type. Am I still a bitch?
The end of 23
Originally written 12/4/06
I'm nearing the end of my tenure as a 23 year-old and I'm not sure how I feel about it. Because of recent interviews I've had to revamp my resume and it seems lacking. Perhaps I believed that I'd have accomplished more by now.
As a teenager I was a chronic over-achiever. Looking at my resume when I was 19 or 21 seems much more impressive than it does now. I can't help but be somewhat disappointed for not having continued the trend, but I guess it's unreasonable to believe that my exponential growth wouldn't plateau eventually, as most things often do.
Nearing the eve of my 24th birthday, I can't help but wonder what the future has in store for me. There's nothing I can do other than continue pushing forward with the hope that my work ethic will make up for my apparently dissipating talents. I thought I was destined for greatness at a young age.
This getting older stuff is bullshit. It makes you all retrospective, introspective, aggrospective... 24 doesn't represent an age at this point; it represents frustration. While I have many things to be thankful for I guess I just wish I had more. By more I mean no debt, someone to share in debtlessness with, a place to call my own, a career; things that adults have.
I believe this all to be a function of my impatience... of my need to have everything done and done perfectly yesterday. I have so many ideas of who I want to be and what I want to do, but it's like I'm sitting in 6th grade science class and it's the last period of the day. There's only 2 minutes left until the bell rings for freedom and I'm staring at the second hand on the clock that's moving so slowly it actually feels like it might be going backwards.
Maybe I have reached my plateau... maybe not. Maybe I'm not the asymptotic type and this is just the slight dip in the middle of my sigmoidal life. Hopefully. Shit, only 2 minutes left...
I'm nearing the end of my tenure as a 23 year-old and I'm not sure how I feel about it. Because of recent interviews I've had to revamp my resume and it seems lacking. Perhaps I believed that I'd have accomplished more by now.
As a teenager I was a chronic over-achiever. Looking at my resume when I was 19 or 21 seems much more impressive than it does now. I can't help but be somewhat disappointed for not having continued the trend, but I guess it's unreasonable to believe that my exponential growth wouldn't plateau eventually, as most things often do.
Nearing the eve of my 24th birthday, I can't help but wonder what the future has in store for me. There's nothing I can do other than continue pushing forward with the hope that my work ethic will make up for my apparently dissipating talents. I thought I was destined for greatness at a young age.
This getting older stuff is bullshit. It makes you all retrospective, introspective, aggrospective... 24 doesn't represent an age at this point; it represents frustration. While I have many things to be thankful for I guess I just wish I had more. By more I mean no debt, someone to share in debtlessness with, a place to call my own, a career; things that adults have.
I believe this all to be a function of my impatience... of my need to have everything done and done perfectly yesterday. I have so many ideas of who I want to be and what I want to do, but it's like I'm sitting in 6th grade science class and it's the last period of the day. There's only 2 minutes left until the bell rings for freedom and I'm staring at the second hand on the clock that's moving so slowly it actually feels like it might be going backwards.
Maybe I have reached my plateau... maybe not. Maybe I'm not the asymptotic type and this is just the slight dip in the middle of my sigmoidal life. Hopefully. Shit, only 2 minutes left...
Destined for cats
Originally written 1/16/07
in•tim•i•date: –verb (used with object), -dat•ed, -dat•ing.
to overawe or cow, as through the force of personality or by superior display of wealth, talent, etc.
How many times have you heard it: Women talking about how men are intimidated by them? I’ve never personally said it in reference to myself, but have been told that I am by other people. I heard it again last night and I am through with that word. I’m ready to eliminate it from the English language.
Intimidation is reserved for bullies, detectives and overwhelmingly attractive women, not me. Sure, my personality may be a bit overpowering, but I do my best to make anyone I come in contact with feel at ease. It’s only after the initial phase that I begin creating the awkward moments.
I can’t accept intimidation as an excuse for why I’m single. I have come to the conclusion that there is indeed something horribly wrong with me. On paper, there are just too many things I have going for me to accept that someone would allow intimidation to be the factor that lets “a catch like me” slip away.
Let’s face it, I’m not exactly beautiful. I’m fit, but you can’t even tell most of the time because I don’t showcase it. I’m smart, but I act like a fucking retard. I’m funny, but my jokes are bad... really bad. I’m talented, but not at anything of value. As a matter of fact, I’m so not intimidating that Jessica actually had to call it an early night on South Beach last week because we were only attracting the caliber of man that she is dissatisfied with (i.e. incredible dorks).
Up until recently, I firmly believed that I am single because the men I’m surrounded by are absolutely unsuitable. My thoughts have changed and I believe now the only unsuitable one is me. I’m that apple that’s been sitting in the fruit basket for a while and it looks all right, but when you cut to the core it’s all brown a mushy.
Cary Bradshaw says we need to “refuse to settle for anything less than butterflies.” I live in Antarctica. There are no butterflies here. I told my last date, and I quote, “It ain’t easy being ice like me!” Yeah, I don’t think he’ll be calling.
Perhaps all that I can do is what I’ve been doing. I will continue to move forward with work, working out and working it (on the dance floor). Who knows? One day I might actually decide on a career and put those hard earned letters that will follow my name to use!
Some people were destined for greatness. Some people were destined for failure. Fuck this bullshit. I was destined for cats.
in•tim•i•date: –verb (used with object), -dat•ed, -dat•ing.
to overawe or cow, as through the force of personality or by superior display of wealth, talent, etc.
How many times have you heard it: Women talking about how men are intimidated by them? I’ve never personally said it in reference to myself, but have been told that I am by other people. I heard it again last night and I am through with that word. I’m ready to eliminate it from the English language.
Intimidation is reserved for bullies, detectives and overwhelmingly attractive women, not me. Sure, my personality may be a bit overpowering, but I do my best to make anyone I come in contact with feel at ease. It’s only after the initial phase that I begin creating the awkward moments.
I can’t accept intimidation as an excuse for why I’m single. I have come to the conclusion that there is indeed something horribly wrong with me. On paper, there are just too many things I have going for me to accept that someone would allow intimidation to be the factor that lets “a catch like me” slip away.
Let’s face it, I’m not exactly beautiful. I’m fit, but you can’t even tell most of the time because I don’t showcase it. I’m smart, but I act like a fucking retard. I’m funny, but my jokes are bad... really bad. I’m talented, but not at anything of value. As a matter of fact, I’m so not intimidating that Jessica actually had to call it an early night on South Beach last week because we were only attracting the caliber of man that she is dissatisfied with (i.e. incredible dorks).
Up until recently, I firmly believed that I am single because the men I’m surrounded by are absolutely unsuitable. My thoughts have changed and I believe now the only unsuitable one is me. I’m that apple that’s been sitting in the fruit basket for a while and it looks all right, but when you cut to the core it’s all brown a mushy.
Cary Bradshaw says we need to “refuse to settle for anything less than butterflies.” I live in Antarctica. There are no butterflies here. I told my last date, and I quote, “It ain’t easy being ice like me!” Yeah, I don’t think he’ll be calling.
Perhaps all that I can do is what I’ve been doing. I will continue to move forward with work, working out and working it (on the dance floor). Who knows? One day I might actually decide on a career and put those hard earned letters that will follow my name to use!
Some people were destined for greatness. Some people were destined for failure. Fuck this bullshit. I was destined for cats.
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