Confession: once I get a little alcohol in me, I start texting everyone.

It's usually a mass text disguised as a personal text. I HAVE to stop doing this. 

I think if I got cable TV this would solve the problem.

Wait-- is it a problem?

Lured a boy over only to be completely bored. Okay, to be fair, not completely bored. I mean, he did bring my friend Jack Daniels.

We try.

But how many times do you tangle with someone before you admit you don't have chemistry?

Mechanical. Awkward. Uninspiring. Little white lies and fake little noises.

Repeat repeat repeat.

If an out-of-state ex-fling regularly texts messages you, "I want you" but you DONT want him, why respond?

Because if the baby can't reach the candy in the cabinet, there's no harm in letting him make grabby-hands at it all the live long day.

Or maybe there is, but really, who gives a sh*t?

Hit me as hard as you can

There really is nothing worse than a writer drudging through an apathetic phase.

Okay, there is-- war, famine, incurable diseases, this awful fucking band called The Kinison, etc-- but still.

Confession: I was suffering through an apathetic phase when 9/11 happened. IDEAL time to be an unfeeling, unsympathetic betch. I'm probably I'm some terrorist list somewhere for not crying through those firefighter montage youtube videos.

Stix

So lets talk about Stix.

When we first dated he was like a dog in heat and I was a chick with an eating disorder who had an out of body experience anytime anyone tried to touch me. It happens.

What I'm saying is I couldn't appreciate him the first time around, and now I want him bad bad bad. Technically, I've had him. 3 or 4 times. And every morning after I wake up with a hookup hangover-- I stay in bed way past my alarm 'cause I'm busy daydreaming, I forget to eat breakfast and by lunch all I can think about is "If I pass out in the copy room, they'll totally let me go home. Then I can text Stix and we can get hot and heavy all afternoon."

Except, unlike that awesome TLC song from my junior high days, I am WAY too proud to beg. Hell, I'm too proud to hint. So I suggest in some ridiculous roundabout way and get left hanging.

I used to think this was just a post-breakup slut-spree, but I think I might actually have feelings for him.

Don't judge me, I was abstinent for an entire quarter of my life, you well-adjusted assholes.

And a warm welcome to you, too

Let me start off by saying this blog has been created purely as an exercise for myself. It could be completely fucking fabricated or the honest to goodness truth (my version of it, anyway).

First things first-- what is up with NO good names being available on blogspot?

It took me 3 weeks to lock one down-- and NOW look what you've done-- I'm kind of obligated to drink every time I write.

It's a good thing I haven't got the attention span to be an addict.