Why I'm Single (Part One of Many)

Well, hello there! After my last post, I received feedback from various sources essentially telling me to suck it up and quit being such a Debbie Downer. Well, I call shenanigans! Really, folks, you know me. Whining is like my anti-drug. If you take that away from me, I'll start hitting the crack pipe (and maybe injecting some heroin into my eyeballs, you know, for funsies) and I don't think any of you are qualified to stage an intervention. Really, though, if my life were that horrible I certainly wouldn't be discussing it in a public forum (and besides, we all know I'm waiting until mis padres kick the proverbial bucket to publish the tell-all) (Marisa, that's just in bad taste) (Yea, I know, but in the words of the incomparable Bette Midler, F**k 'em if they can't take a joke). So yeah, there's that.

Anyway, I'm completely out of books to read. I had a list of new ones I wanted, but when I went to Borders, they didn't have any of them in stock. Granted, they're not massively popular titles, but I'm still surprised and more than a little annoyed that they didn't carry AN single one of the lot! For shame, Borders! So I had to order them on Amazon, which I hate doing because I am a huge believer in instant gratification. Patience isn't a virtue that I possess in abundance, let's be honest. My mother always used to compare me to the obnoxious child from Willy Wonka who whined and demanded things constantly. Veruca Salt, that was her name. I don't think I'm all that bad, but, well...Let's just say the comparison isn't entirely without merit. Bottom line being, Amazon better get it together, but quick.

Ok, I must be seriously boring people at this point. A few friends who read this sometimes like to suggest random topics for me to ramble incoherently about, and Mary Ann suggested yesterday that I write about my (lack of) love life. Or something to that effect. I accidentally deleted the text message so I can't really be sure. In any case, no one needs to hear about that, and it certainly doesn't make for interesting reading, I can promise you that much. To be honest, I have no desire at all to date at the moment, and that's mostly because HAVE YOU SEEN THE NEANDERTHALS DRAGGING THEIR KNUCKLES THROUGH THE STREETS OF NEW ORLEANS LATELY?! I mean, Come On. Last night I went to TJ Quill's with a few friends, and Christ on a Croissant, they should just hand out Valtrex at the door! With the exception of my little brother and his charming friends and the people I was there with, everyone in that bar was a disaster of stereotypical proportions. The (worryingly weathered) girls there made Snooki look like Princess Diana, let's put it that way. The daddy issues were palpable. And if I see one more guy wearing a graphic tshirt and bedazzled jeans, I'm just gonna adopt a herd of cats and move to Grey Gardens. When did that become acceptable? I don't think my list of desirable traits is really too much to ask for. Dress like a normal human being, Be a nice person, Don't be a total moron, Read books occasionally, Don't play video games when I'm in the room (or at all, really), and if at all possible, Look like Lee Pace (The last one is negotiable, but physically he's the dream guy, see photo above. Boy's got a shape to him). So, now that this post reads more like a personal ad, I can move on. Who knows, maybe Lee Pace will happen upon this blog somehow and realize that I'm the girl of his dreams. With my luck, though, he's probably gay. If you need me, I'll be in the corner, singing softly to myself and slowly rocking. Toodles!