"How sweet it is to be..." Oh, never mind

"Loved by you" right, that's how it goes. But not in my life. In all of nineteen years, well that's not quite nineteen years, 'cause ages 1-12 don't count, no guy has professed his mutual affection for me. I am told in pitiful tones by my loved ones that the right guy will come along, to be patient, that those I have loved and lost did not deserve me. I find it interesting that I am such an amazing find in this world, so irresistibly sexy/funny/smart/perfect that no man can lay a hand on me. (Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?) If such is the case, I pray for mediocrity. I want to be so plain and ugly and boring that men will run after me drooling.

As it is, I will continue to be helplessly irresistible, and collect cats and calories.



The rest of the day will consist of a scalding shower, a trip to the co-op and other places of purchasing, and an amazingly greasy, delicious, self-pitying pizza. Ah, lovely, and yes, you may call me crazy cat lady, I promise to live up to the label.

So, how does that make you feel?

I have decided to start a blog, as you can see if you're reading this, mainly for the purpose of preserving my future sanity. I'm not dedicated enough to keep a journal that only I will ever read, so I will put my amazingly satiric wit to good use, to amuse you (readers) and to relieve my mental tension. This blog will likely follow me through the completion of my culinary internship, and into a frazzeled future.
As I always say, Why pay a pschyciatrist? Just start a blog and frighten your friends instead.
Laugh with me my friends, or at me, that works too.