Ugh, the Yankers have won the World Series. Everyone from my coworkers to my massage therapist have texted me in their celebratory snobby victory dance across technology.
And in the rest of my life, I have no direction....I feel like I'm in a free fall. Please don't start singing Tom Petty to me. I love the song, but all I can think of is Tom Cruise from Jerry Maguire.
I am also office space homeless. But at least I have a stapler in my displacement and they're still paying me. It may be another week or longer; they said it wouldn't take more than 7 days.
People are dropping like flies with all sorts of ailments at work. Some are definitely sick because of the dust and dirt and the new carpet of the environment. I'm trying to get my rest in advance, but somehow I feel fatalistic: it is just a matter of time.
A beautiful beautiful Saturday night MSG Springsteen ticket has found its way into my possession. I will be at Clarence's side stage. I will watch them play an incredible album from the late 70s. I will get to hear Incident On 57th Street and Sandy and NYC Serenade, long jamming songs that highlight the band in amazing ways, then intertwines with Springsteen's lyrics like winding ivy up along a trestle.
No Fly Zone sent me a text message, "Haven't heard from you. Let me know when you want to get together." I counted...this is the 10th week since that dreadfully comedic 1st date. I haven't ever communicated with him from that day onward. Um dude....desperate much? Oh yes wait, you've never left the state of New Jersey, so I guess the answer is yes.
FutureSex sent me an email, asking me to talk sexy to him. Eh. I'm too tired. If it feels forced, then it isn't right. In comparison, talking to my dear Molto Bello Italia is so delightfully easy and comfortable, like we'd been friends for years. FutureSex makes no effort to get together with me this weekend, even though I'm already booked for Bruce, he doesn't know that. I inquired what he was doing with his weekend and got no response. Welllllll, contact me when you're 1. less busy and 2. looking for more than just some sexy words in an email. Filed under: Chemistry ignition stalled.
Sweden had a dream about me. I was 175 lbs and trying on red and black dresses for a wedding, and she recalls saying "The red one, or I'll come down and smack you." Yes, that sounds about right.
Me, 175 lbs. Hahahaa. I don't know how it is going to happen.
Very warm thanks to Dating 2.0 for introducing this clueless one to the networking possibilities that is MeetUp!
And yes, I do love my new crackleberrypop Bold. I love it so much that I don't want to touch the track ball. I might have issues.
Losing Weight; Finding Men
"Never make someone a priority in your life when you are just their option."