It has been suggested to me by loyal readers and evil friends that I am not focusing enough on trying to make even the smallest connections with the male gender. While I recognize the criticism might have some small element of validity, I’d like to point out that men don’t talk to me. They didn’t
1. You hear the words “designer vagina” and your thoughts turn not to the mysteries of cosmetic science, but immediately to where they must put the label. 2. You notice that Pen’s Barbie Magic Wand has been the victim of fluid evaporation, and proclaim it as a sign of the apocalypse—which you then have trouble
I got tagged again, only this time it has something to do with answering a lot of emotionally scarring questions. Naturally, I figured this meant that I should create an entire blog out of it. No, it’s not cheating. 1. EVER BEEN GIVEN AN ENGAGEMENT RING?Wow. So, we’re going there right away are we? We
Perception is a funny thing (and by funny, I mean evil and wrong). For instance, yesterday, I thought I was doing a gangbuster kind of workout. I pictured myself on the elliptical machine making magic happen. I pictured myself being athletic, svelte, prepossessing, or sweaty-chic. Then I looked in the mirror. I’m fairly sure your
http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20090113/od_afp/lifestyleaustraliatourismoffbeat_20090113032028 Let me get this straight. They will pay me a little over $100,000 in order to play on their island? Hmmmm. Clearly the strenuous duties of sunbathing and frolicking are worth that, but I’m missing the catch. As it stands, I do believe I’ve found one of my two or three personal fantasy jobs,
http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,475905,00.html True love last forever—or at least that’s the case being made by a group of scientists in the latest love study. Romance novels (chick lit and harlequin varieties), all those movies and teenage dreams got themselves a bit of validation this week. Although I don’t remember brain scans being involved in any of those
I was seduced, I tell you! No, not in the romantic sense of candles, flowery talk and promises of an investment portfolio miraculously unscathed by the recent economic turndown; I mean in the sense that I foolishly believed that I was safe. Safe from the ghosts of Christmas past. Safe from the evils of the
I’m writing this from a great distance… straight up. I’m flying home from visiting my parents in Ohio (where it was 6 degrees (!) at the start of the week and 66 when I flew out), and I began pondering the many things today that don’t make sense to me—in addition to that whole weather