[about the author]
i actually like speaking in front of large crowds. freakish,
i work crossword puzzles in ink.
i am the american nigella lawson. or maybe the american eddie
izzard. can't decide, really.
i would be a really good mom, but i'm cool with being a really
i am sometimes more perceptive than i would like to be.
i am fiercely loyal. sometimes, stupidly so.
i never play dumb. never.
i am way too hard on myself.
i am a change agent.
i sometimes cross that fine line between assertive and aggressive.
i am not afraid to tell people that i love them.
i am militantly pro-choice.
i am pro-adoption.
i know a little bit about alot of things.
i typically enjoy the company of men more than women.
i am capable of being really mean and nasty, but i fight it.
i am a lifelong cubs fan. do not laugh.
i have been known to hold a grudge.
i have hips.
i am not my sister.
i am lousy at forgiving myself.
i am an indoor kind of gal.
i am a bargain shopper. to the point of obsession.
i am 32 flavors. and then some.
there's nothing like the smell of desperation in the morning. unless it's the smell of desperation in the evening. or the late afternoon.
i got talked into it.
it wasn't my idea.
i was drunk.
i was unconscious and they manipulated my head in such as way as to mimic me nodding affirmatively and agreeing to participate.
i'm now officially signed up for...
8 minute dating
sweet mother of god.
"it's not pressure...it's a party!"
"a lot can happen in 8 minutes!"
yeah, like me lunging across the table and choking some guy. or some guy saying, "i don't know why they paired me up with you...i only date girls under 30." or me standing up all eight of my "dates" and just parking myself at the bar and getting sloshed while devouring all the "free" snacks.
a group of us is going. we're all putting on our game faces, pretending that we think this is spectacular. like it's the best idea since sliced bread.
the age range is 25-35, meaning i'm on the, uh, "high end" of the scale. so i have visions of being in a room full of 25 year-old-girls with super-low-rise bebe pants and one-shoulder shirts and spray on tans and perky little asses.
i think we all know that i'm not perky.
no part of me. not my ass. not my hair.
well, maybe my tits, but i think we've all heard quite enough about them.
so, what am i supposed to ask in eight minutes that will reveal to me whether or not this is my prince charming?
"so...why aren't you married yet?"
"so...what are we talking here, six inches? five inches?"
"so...everything seems to be in order. now if i could just get the phone number of your last two girlfriends so i can phone them, we'll be all set."
"so...if you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?"
and what if nobody picks me?! i mean, it's one thing if i none of the eight guys is interesting to me. but what if none of the eight guys is interested in me?! this is a serious concern.
i guess i have to come up with a plan of "attack." or at least a list of questions. i guess using the inside the actors studio questionnaire is probably not an option. nor is a "do you like me? please check 'yes' or 'no'" note.
i've been out of the loop, out of the scene, off the market, in the dark for about, oh...seven years. is this really what it's come to?
suddenly, i feel very very old. and decidedly not perky.
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