Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Aging Anxiety

It just occurred to me—I am 24 mother-f'in years old. OMG. I am a bonified grown-up. No more of this, "Wooo! I'm 21 and can finally go by 'Tina' instead of 'Monique' in front of the bouncer!" No more, "Wooo! I'm 22, and college freshmen look at me as an experienced older woman!" or "Wooo! I'm 23, and I get to work in an office and boss around interns!" Now it's "Woo. My friends are starting to get married and buy houses. I'm starting to get pissed 'cause I haven't gotten promoted in two years or...ever. Two a.m. is a late night for me, and I've run out of anti-wrinkle eye cream. I'm expected to know how to cook and...bake things." Hell, the one thing I have going for me is that my melons are small. Therefore, they will always be perky.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

The Single Life

I overheard (OK, eavesdropped on) a conversation yesterday between two guys discussing statistics. Apparently, the ratio of women to men in Hoboken, NJ, is 8 to 2. That means every guy in town can have as many as four girlfriends, and he will not be called "stingy." He's just taking his fair share, right? Well, I'm not that generous!

In today's Post: Manhattan tops U.S. for singles. Of all the households in New York, 48% are hoarding singletons! Yes! I didn't think I was crazy. When I left Kansas City two years ago (two years and a week ago, to be exact), didn't I say it would be easy to find a BF in NYC? Didn't I? Based off of that info! But have I been involved in a single relationship since my arrival? Have I? No. NO.

I have no solution for this. Nada. All I can do is wash my laundry tonight at the Garden Street Laundromat and pray that Mr. Right's plaid boxers gets mixed in with my bras and panties. He'll spot his man-like undies swirling around amid my sexy knickers (because I've decided to wear my sexy underthingies whenever I want—there are no "special" occasions anymore, no potential soireé where my black lace panties may be seen), and we'll bond over...underthingies. And then we'll go to my apartment and watch O.C. re-runs while rolling around in our freshly laundered laundry.

If only my love life matched my imagination...

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Looks Can Be Deceiving

Do you ever have days where you look in the mirror and think, Gee, I'm just not as cute as I thought I was. Like, all these years, you thought you were an attractive person...most of the time. Then suddenly, it occurs to you that you may have been living a lie. A borderline cocky, conceited lie. In actuality, you're this grotesque person with dark under-eye circles, forehead wrinkles, yellow teeth, freckles and thin, vein-y cheeks. Uh, ew! No wonder you don't have a BF! Maybe you should have accepted that slightly nerdy boy's offer to buy you a drink. Because honey, slightly nerdy's as good as it's gonna get.

Melodramatic much? Perhaps. I'm trying to sell some furniture, see. I have a $30 rickety old desk, and I received an e-mail from Whitney this morning. She wanted to come by tonight. So at 9 p.m., Whitney calls. Only, Whitney is a he with a twangy, Texan accent. Not only that, but an adorable Whitney shows up on my doorstep. "Hah," he drawls. He steps into my room, takes one look at my desk and says, "That's smaller than I wanted. See yah," right before he turns on his heel and nearly runs out of my apartment. He couldn't leave fast enough! Weird, I think. Until I glance in the mirror and spot my sweat-tastic face. Ew! No wonder. I'm just not as cute as I thought I was.

Editor's note: I'm not fishing. If I get one, "But you are cute," I'm gonna have Whitney hunt you down. It's just how I feel. This week.

Sunday, August 7, 2005

"Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly." —Anonymous

Wednesday, August 3, 2005

The Deletion Factor

First of all, let's hope the need to Delete someone from your life is a rare occurrence. But occasionally, reminders of that vicious ex-BFF or The Ex can just be too painful to bear. Thus, The Deletion Factor comes into play. Sometimes it's the only way one can move on, but unfortunately, in Today's world, Deletion is harder than ever.

Before Deleting, there's some prep work that must be done. After crying over the fact that this person sucks, you must decide whether she/he is worth remaining in your life. If you're smart, the answer's probably NO. After all, what kind of a you-worthy person causes that much pain and grief? Take a couple of days before Deletion to accept the impending Delete Day. If you must, torture yourself by listening to saved voicemails, re-reading text messages and googling him/her. Because once he/she is Deleted, there's no going back.

Sure, obviously Delete his/her cell number, so as not to call/text said jerk in the midst of a panic attack/rage. But to ensure complete Deletion, consider all outlets beyond The Cell. Delete text messages from him/her and messages sent to him/her. Delete saved voice messages. Most likely the saved messages are sweet, which can lead you to believe this person doesn't suck, and before you know it, you'll be begging for him/her back. NO WAY.

All e-mail accounts. Delete messages from Outbox and Inbox in your personal e-mail account. With work e-mail accounts, it gets tricky. There's your Inbox, your Outbox, Sent box, Deleted Items box, Address book, etc. Delete them. All.

That's not all, my friends. In Today's world where there's the occasional five minutes you're caught in your cube with nothing to do, you've likely spent time surfing the 'Net, creating useless profiles on various networking sites. Friendster. Um, he/she is not your friend. Delete his/her profile. My Space. He/she needs to get out of Your Space. Immediately. Delete. OKcupid, Nerve.com, Match.com, etc. Do you have a blog? Delete any comments he/she might have made. This person is not worthy to comment on your life, nor your superb writing skills.

Any gifts, hand-written notes, photos? Rip up and toss out. The extremes of burning mementos is outdated. Too hazardous.

Aprés D-Day
Celebrate! Toast! Cheer! He/she is out of your life, and you can swiftly move on. Hopefully to someone who will not succumb to The Deletion Factor.
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