WHY DO I BOTHER?
I'm in heat. That's what Christy says.
I'm ready to date. I've spent a long time trying to get my act together ... my career on track ... my life in order. It's in order already! Now, it's time to look for Mr. Right. Or Mr. Right Now ... Or Mr. Forever ... whomever comes first.
Okay, I'll give this one to Christy. Perhaps I am in heat. Spring has sprung in Frankfort. Perhaps my biological clock is ticking madly!
I had to return a book to the library -- of course, it was overdue. But that's a blog for another time. I pulled into the parking lot and, in doing so, witnessed a gentleman walking to his truck. An older, slightly rugged-looking gentleman. I use the word gentleman to describe him, because I had no idea what I was about to see him do. Had I known what he was getting ready to do, I might have chosen something more appropriate ... say PIG or LOSER or DISGUSTING EXCUSE FOR MALE FLESH.
You see, ladies, he proceeded to pull off his white t-shirt (he was well-sculpted for an older man) and BLOW HIS NOSE INTO IT!!!!
OH MY GOOD GLORY ... FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND DECENT IN THIS WORLD!!?!??!?!??!?! Dude! There's this new invention. It's called a Kleenex. Try it some time!
That scene left me wondering this: "why bother looking for Mr. Right, if he's just going to snoot snot in his shirt!?"
In other news, I've been going to the gym for three and a half weeks now (it would have been more like 5 weeks if it weren't for all the crud I've had lately). I was hoping that I would see some sort of difference in those three weeks, but no! Not ONE measly difference ... AAARRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!! It's sooooooo frustrating. I'm working my butt off! You'd think I would see something ... anything ... the slightest bit of change in the flabby flesh.
Nothing ...
Nada ...
Zip ...
Zero ...
None ...
I did, however, get to watch seven boys in blue, literally, drool over a teeny, tiny little woman that came prancing in wearing nothing but a sports bra and tiny spandex shorts. She flaunted her little six-pack abs at me, as the sweaty city cops stood there holding 50 lb. weights with their tongues hanging to the floor.
It's a good thing she left when she did. I was preparing to ask one of the neanderthal boys if I could borrow a side arm. Clearly, she needed to be put out of her misery!
I'm ready to date. I've spent a long time trying to get my act together ... my career on track ... my life in order. It's in order already! Now, it's time to look for Mr. Right. Or Mr. Right Now ... Or Mr. Forever ... whomever comes first.
Okay, I'll give this one to Christy. Perhaps I am in heat. Spring has sprung in Frankfort. Perhaps my biological clock is ticking madly!
I had to return a book to the library -- of course, it was overdue. But that's a blog for another time. I pulled into the parking lot and, in doing so, witnessed a gentleman walking to his truck. An older, slightly rugged-looking gentleman. I use the word gentleman to describe him, because I had no idea what I was about to see him do. Had I known what he was getting ready to do, I might have chosen something more appropriate ... say PIG or LOSER or DISGUSTING EXCUSE FOR MALE FLESH.
You see, ladies, he proceeded to pull off his white t-shirt (he was well-sculpted for an older man) and BLOW HIS NOSE INTO IT!!!!
OH MY GOOD GLORY ... FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND DECENT IN THIS WORLD!!?!??!?!??!?! Dude! There's this new invention. It's called a Kleenex. Try it some time!
That scene left me wondering this: "why bother looking for Mr. Right, if he's just going to snoot snot in his shirt!?"
In other news, I've been going to the gym for three and a half weeks now (it would have been more like 5 weeks if it weren't for all the crud I've had lately). I was hoping that I would see some sort of difference in those three weeks, but no! Not ONE measly difference ... AAARRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!! It's sooooooo frustrating. I'm working my butt off! You'd think I would see something ... anything ... the slightest bit of change in the flabby flesh.
Nothing ...
Nada ...
Zip ...
Zero ...
None ...
I did, however, get to watch seven boys in blue, literally, drool over a teeny, tiny little woman that came prancing in wearing nothing but a sports bra and tiny spandex shorts. She flaunted her little six-pack abs at me, as the sweaty city cops stood there holding 50 lb. weights with their tongues hanging to the floor.
It's a good thing she left when she did. I was preparing to ask one of the neanderthal boys if I could borrow a side arm. Clearly, she needed to be put out of her misery!
Comments
Let the search for Mr. Right continue!