general tso, we've got a good thing going.

Craving General Tso's chicken and rice delivered right to my door sounded like a lovely dinner option. And really puts that going to the gym at 6 am tomorrow in perspective (yeah, 6am, color me crazy). Since my preferred Chinese restaurant is closed right now - they close during winter and summer break since there are so few students in town - I took a chance and called the other Chinese restaurant in town.

As an aside, it is ridiculous that I live in a city with only two Chinese restaurants that deliver.

So, I called and ordered some food (and a two-liter of Diet Coke, you know, just to be ironic), decided to watch Wedding Crashers instead of Ella Enchanted (shuddup, I like that movie, and Hugh Dancy is so pretty I want to cry), and burrow myself a nice little hole in the couch.

Some time goes by, the cat senses that food is on its way, and is at the door before I am when the delivery person arrives.

THE DELIVERY PERSON WAS THE CUTE BOY FROM NEW YEAR'S. THE ONE WHO OFFERED ME A RIDE HOME TWICE (I declined his offer because he was a stranger and, you know, my momma didn't raise no fool). THE CUTE BOY WITH THE NERDY GLASSES THAT MADE HIM CUTE ENOUGH TO MAKE ME WANT TO WRITE A PARAGRAPH IN ALL CAPS.

Let me just say that I'm glad I chose Wedding Crashers. I would not have been able to handle this if I had Ella Enchanted, what with the talking snake and Cary Elwes not looking like he did The Princess Bride, on the TV screen.

The conversation was kind of sad because 1) I was surprised, and that is not a time when I'm in best element and 2) I'm me so... yeah. As he was leaving, he told me to have a good dinner. I told him to do the same, then corrected myself, unless he hadn't had dinner yet then, in which case, I hope he has a good dinner.

Yes, I really did say all of that to him. Did I mention that I am unable to shut my mouth at times when I really should? After I babbled all of that, he may have invited me out to the bar tonight. I'm not really sure. We were talking across the parking lot and he said the name of one of the bars, but as a question. Like, do you go there often or, are you going there tonight?

Now I don't know what to do.

I mean, I'm not going out tonight. I can't, really. But, at the same time, this is all just weird. I mean, I see this guy on New Year's Eve - and I like to think that New Year's Eve is significant, in the same way I find Independence Day significant (sparkle and booze makes holidays significant for me) - then two times after that, just by sheer chance. And one time he's delivering Chinese food to my door? Come on. This is all just bizarre. In a super fun way.

I wonder where I'll see him next... if it's at a Hanson concert, I'm going to say it's meant to be.

all the single ladies, put your hands up.

As much as I bitch and moan about being single, I'm starting to really appreciate my non-existent relationship status. So, while I sit here and listen to Hanson while devouring a Hershey's chocolate bar (the mysteries as to why I'm single? Solved, right there), I'm going to write out why I'm happy on my own, just so that when I get super PMS-y and sad, I can look back on this list and go "oh, yeah, that's why being single kicks ass.

Odds of me actually saying that are about as good as me not eating all this Hershey's bar.

Number 1. Shaving.
It has been eight days since I've shaved my legs. I know that's gross, but my little warped brain thinks that my extra leg hair is going to help keep me warm during these cold January days as I walk to work in the mornings. If I was with someone, I'd totally have to keep the leg hair under control. But as a single gal? Fuck it. It's just not worth it.

Number 2. My bed.
Sleeping diagonally across the bed is AMAZING. I discovered this New Year's Day when I fell asleep while watching the Looney Tunes marathon on Cartoon Network. Yes, I took a nap while watching cartoons; I am, essentially, a four-year-old. Now that I've discovered this new sleeping position, I'm having a hard time adjusting back to the normal way of sleeping which, for me, involves wrapping the blanket around me like a caterpillar does in its cocoon. But, trust me, I look nothing like a beautiful butterfly when I emerge from my blanket cocoon in the mornings.

Number 3. Boys.
I can look at boys and smile at them and drop all those subconscious body language techniques I've read about in Cosmo and not feel guilty about it. True that nothing happens with these boys (mostly because of Hanson and Hershey's), but, hey, it's not to dream and not be guilt-ridden.

Number 4. All those other reasons.
Okay, I'm struggling at this point and I don't want to use all those typical reasons why it's so great being single like "freedom to do what you want", which I think is bullshit. You should have your freedom because, really, not having freedom in a relationship? Yeah, that's called slavery. The only exception to this is if you're freeing things from your pants. That's called "cheating", and that is bullshit.

Having said all of that, if that cute boy with the nerdy glasses (that multiplied his cuteness by approximately a gazillion) from New Year's Eve ever asks me out, I'm not looking back.

21 things.

The other day, and this could have been any day for this happens a lot, Amber and I were complaining about our love lives because this is what girls do. Sorry guys, no sweaty pillow fights in skimpy pajamas. No, we bitch about things and then eat something greasy and/or deep-fried. This is the way of the Woman, and I am sorry to squash any dreams you might have ever had about us.

We have both realized that we have officially reached the age where things like previous marriages and kids can come into play when talking about guys in our age group. And that's terrifying. I then told her about this Alanis Morissette song (and I will someday be able to spell Alanis' last name right, with the proper amount of r's and t's without looking it up, so help me God) called "21 Things I Want in a Lover". I'm not a huge fan of this song but I've always liked the idea behind it. The gist of the song is that she has a list of, you guessed it, 21 things she wants in a lover.

I remember stealing this list and making my own a few years ago. And it was full of silly things that I'm too embarrassed to even discuss now. In my defense, I was young and foolish, okay? I was naive and gullible and just didn't play know better. These days though, that 21 things list has been narrowed down to just a few criticals...

1 - No kids. I cannot handle any baby-momma drama. Plus, I don't do well with kids. They don't get sarcasm and therefore we have no use for each other.
2 - No previous marriage... the verdict is still out on drunken Vegas weddings because, like Phoebe on Friends says, getting married in Vegas doesn't mean that you're married everywhere, just in Vegas.
3 - No drugs. I'm not against people doing drugs, but I just don't want to date someone who does. I know this makes me a hypocrite. And all I have to say to that is, duh. Yeah, duh. I just went 1994 on your ass. Tomorrow, I travel to 1991 when I make a comment about being gagged with a spoon.
4 - No smoking. It kinda grosses me out to kiss a guy who smokes. Plus there's that constant cigarette smell and I just can't handle it, okay?

Then there's the basics about how he can't be a smug arrogant bastard who is mean and kicks puppies. But, seriously, the things like him like Wedding Crashers as much as me and willing to let me win at a game of H.O.R.S.E. every now and then (not to mention to have a love for UK basketball but, come on, I live in Kentucky... most boys bleed blue here and I would never be so foolish as to like a UofL fan in the first place) have kind of been put on the back burner just because I really can't handle the thought of dating a guy who has a kid.

This growing up business sucks.

Robbie: I remember this one time we were flying to the Grand Canyon and I had never been there before and Linda had, so you would think that she would give me the window seat, but she didn't... and not that that's a big deal, you know. It's just that there were a lot of little things like that. I know that sounds stupid...

Julia: Not at all. I think it's the little things that count.
- The Wedding Singer, 1998

i choose vodka. and chaka khan.

I would rather use the quote from the book, but since I'm at work and do not have a copy of the book readily available (yes, I work in a library and don't have a book; how ironic is that?), I'm going to have to use the movie quote, courtesy of imdb.com. Besides, this blog and movie lines kind of go hand-in-hand so I suppose this is more fitting, despite the fact that the line from the book is far superior.


"Will find nice sensible boyfriend and stop forming romantic attachments to any of the following: alcoholics, workoholics, sexaholics, commitment-phobics, peeping toms, megalomaniacs, emotional fuckwits, or perverts."
- Bridget, Bridget Jones's Diary. If you can stand to look at Renee Zellweger for more than five minutes, this is a slightly decent film, mostly because Colin Firth is in it playing Mark Darcy who is, not surprisingly, not that much different from another fictional character he once played with the same last name.

I don't have romantic attachments to any of the above mentioned personalities, but do seem to stay in the company of them quite often. And, it is quite possible that, after five or so drinks, my feelings of indifference get pushed aside by something stronger: my own stupidity.

Ah, stupidity, my old friend.

So, there's no point in this entry whatsoever. There probably would have been one if a group of guys hadn't came to the floor I work on to distract me. I have to remind myself that they're all probably alcoholics, workoholics, sexaholics, commitment-phobics, peeping toms, megalomaniacs, emotional fuckwits, or perverts, and they still want nothing to do with me anyway.

How sad is my life? Oi.