Other Disasters
A good friend of mine recently (as in 4 minutes ago) informed me that it had been nearly a month since I had written in my blog. There is really no excuse for this, as my book, "The Red Shirt Chronicles and Other Disasters" is set to hit the shelves sometime before my 30th birthday, according to my list of life goals. My sister told me awhile back that the premise of my book was an excellent one. In her words, "All those books about men are written by women who claim to know everything about men. You CLEARLY know nothing about men. I think that gives you some sort of advantage." It remains to be seen whether or not this is true, but I think I'll take her theory and run with it. Since I haven't worn the red shirt in quite some time, I guess that leaves me with nothing to report other than under the "other disasters" category. Now this, I believe I may have something to say about...
In reference to disaster number one, let me just say that men should never, NEVER, under any circumstances, sit around, strum their guitars, and sing "Viva Viagra." There is something inherently wrong with this. If you haven't seen this commercial, you might consider thanking your lucky stars. I'm not sure if I've been the same since my one and only viewing of this aberration.
In reference to a second and more general disaster, I'm pretty sure that I have incurable diarrhea of the mouth. Honestly, what person without this unfortunate malady would suddenly outburst to a temporary co-worker, "Argh! Stop it! I can't do my job because you are flustering me because I'm attracted to you and really I don't always act this flaky..." and so on and so forth for an indeterminate but definitely unnecessary time period? In what universe does this seem like a good idea? Some of my friends insist that I'm "brave," but I'm pretty sure that that is just supportive friend-speak for "crazy." Now, if I were the star of a romantic comedy, this would have turned out well for me, but as it happens, I am only the star of a reality TV show and this whole situation wound up under the heading of "other disasters." Yes, I got a few dates out of the whole mess, and admittedly, it may have even been worth it in some ways. Ask me in three weeks, the jury is still out. In the meantime, just kindly remind me to try to keep my mouth shut, at least for awhile.
I was feeling a little bit low about this entire failed romance and my general cluelessness when I went out swing dancing with my sister on Saturday night. Fortunately, lonely 40-year-old men who come dancing by themselves are never short on compliments for 25-year-old women in little black dresses. In fact, one told me, "I think you look familiar! Oh, maybe it's because you kind of have a movie star face...or a model....you could be a model....like maybe I've seen you in a Target Ad!" Talk about verbal diarrhea, we probably had more in common than I realized at the time. At least he didn't say Wal-Mart, or heaven forbid, K-Mart! I guess I should just take what I can get...
In reference to disaster number one, let me just say that men should never, NEVER, under any circumstances, sit around, strum their guitars, and sing "Viva Viagra." There is something inherently wrong with this. If you haven't seen this commercial, you might consider thanking your lucky stars. I'm not sure if I've been the same since my one and only viewing of this aberration.
In reference to a second and more general disaster, I'm pretty sure that I have incurable diarrhea of the mouth. Honestly, what person without this unfortunate malady would suddenly outburst to a temporary co-worker, "Argh! Stop it! I can't do my job because you are flustering me because I'm attracted to you and really I don't always act this flaky..." and so on and so forth for an indeterminate but definitely unnecessary time period? In what universe does this seem like a good idea? Some of my friends insist that I'm "brave," but I'm pretty sure that that is just supportive friend-speak for "crazy." Now, if I were the star of a romantic comedy, this would have turned out well for me, but as it happens, I am only the star of a reality TV show and this whole situation wound up under the heading of "other disasters." Yes, I got a few dates out of the whole mess, and admittedly, it may have even been worth it in some ways. Ask me in three weeks, the jury is still out. In the meantime, just kindly remind me to try to keep my mouth shut, at least for awhile.
I was feeling a little bit low about this entire failed romance and my general cluelessness when I went out swing dancing with my sister on Saturday night. Fortunately, lonely 40-year-old men who come dancing by themselves are never short on compliments for 25-year-old women in little black dresses. In fact, one told me, "I think you look familiar! Oh, maybe it's because you kind of have a movie star face...or a model....you could be a model....like maybe I've seen you in a Target Ad!" Talk about verbal diarrhea, we probably had more in common than I realized at the time. At least he didn't say Wal-Mart, or heaven forbid, K-Mart! I guess I should just take what I can get...
posted by Erinn @ 6:08 PM
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