Excuse me if I’m nervous BUT I’m kinda stepping out of my comfort zone here.
And by kinda I mean REALLY.
About six months ago, I realized that people really liked this “other” blog I ran. I say “other” because, well, let’s face it. Literary geniuses would be repulsed by fractions of words used on it like ‘UNF’ and ‘ZOMG’. WHO uses those words? Well actually I do and if you don’t know what they mean, you’re in luck. I’m totally making a sub-page on this blog that will serve as a dictionary to words I use repeatedly that usually leave anyone I know outside of Twitter confused and questioning my education level.
I assure you. I totally had a great education and I can speak very well when I want to. See? I said ‘well’ and not ‘good’. Proof right there.
But when it comes to blogging. I like to take my own crystallized approach. And yes, I just used my name as an adjective.
People like my ranting. At least they do when I’m flailing over celebrities and fictional book characters that have set the bar so high for MFH (my future husband – see this dictionary will be totally useful) that I will probably end up married to my iphone. Curious as to WHO these fictional book characters are? Flip over to my Guilty Pleasures page and find out who they are along with other
useless useful information about me.
I don’t live an extravagant life by any means. I don’t care WHAT anyone told you that may have gotten you to this blog. I’m still happy you came though so HELLO.
I swear. this doesn’t happen every day.
But I can confidently say that in my life – there is never a dull moment. Even my moments that I think are dull, usually contain some pinch of drama or hilarity that I cannot wait to share with others.
For instance, I’m single. And I’m happily single. I am a firm believer in the “spark”. You know, that electric charge when two people meet that makes it nearly impossible to keep their hands off each other? I’ve felt it before and I refuse to settle for anything that doesn’t generate enough electricity to light the Vegas strip.
But naturally, being single results in the craziness the world calls “dating”. As someone who spent 7 years of my adult life in two long term relationships, well dating was always kind of a foreign concept. It’s only NOW that I realize, living in a city with a population of little over 126,000 people – it can be PRETTY darn hard to find a guy who fits that perfect profile.
You know – 25 and older, successful in his own way, man who is tall and slim (muscles seriously do nothing for me) WITH (and I stress otherwise sparks will not be flying and then we’re just wasting our time) tousled, tangible hair I can play with whenever I please. Most importantly in bed but also occasionally in public and in line at Starbucks which will also happen to be his favorite place in town. Trust me. My Starbucks addiction is coming in the next post and I simply refuse to date anyone who has a hate on for Starbucks.
no, really. we’re lovers.
Been there. Done that. We broke up. Because would you date someone who hates your best friend? No. Well – need I say more?
BUT in the process of finding MFH, my soul mate, my person whose hair I can tousle in line at Starbucks, well – let’s just say I have heard some FANTASTIC pick up lines. Been told some questionable tales. And been subjected to some insanely awkward first dates.
So with stories this good, why would I simply share these with my closest girlfriends when I could entertain the world? And why would I whine to my cat my woes of how my favorite Starbucks barista isn’t single when I could cry on all of your shoulders?
Blair Waldorf demonstrating me totally snot-sobbing your shoulders.
If you want to follow a normal girl who works two jobs to afford some fraction of the fabulous lifestyle she loves, is addicted to Starbucks, is practically married to her iphone, has a secret love of a vampire who sparkles, and the propensity to get herself into such epic situations when it comes to men and let’s face it, life in general. You’ve come to the right spot. I’d love to share. Because really. Sharing IS caring right?
So dear men who enter my life – here’s a waiver, sign it please. You know, so I can blog about you later when you drag me to a stripclub on our first date (because that HAPPENED.)
This is me. As real as it gets and as honest as it gets. You should probably stick along for the ride.