Why Chick Lit is so true

Yesterday, and the day before, I realized just why Chick Lit, Sex and the City, and Chick Flicks are so popular among the girly girls. Often, they're topic of choice is men, and why they are necessary. On Monday, I had some major difficulties at work; and no one who I could complain about it to. Even if I did complain to the boss, he's friends with the bastard who caused me the troubles. On Tuesday, I came down with a major cold. In both of these cases having a suitable "c***holder," as one of the aforementioned books called it, would have been useful. You just need someone to snuggle up and pretend to be concerned. Now, I'm not saying that friends and family weren't sympathetic and listened to me whine as much as I could. What I'm saying is, that no one was home at my apartment ready to rub my back and cuddle. And fetch me various sundries from the grocery store.

So, what have we learned from this? Well, nothing really. I was just pointing it out. In quasi-related news, one of the people I whined to over the telephone was the Starbucks boyf. Now, this 'bux boyf is new. And he has confirmed my tendancy towards the young. However, I'm starting to question that tendency. Now, we all remember my brief exchange of pleantries with the aptly named young'n, who was 21. That ended, of course, because I wasn't putting out. The 'bux boyf, however, is even younger. YOUNGER! I've taken the cradle robbing to a whole new level. And I can't say I'm all that proud of it. Ok, I'll stop stalling. The 'bux boyf is 20. The aspiring singer/actor/rapper/model/whatever is freakin' 20. The only reason I gave him my number to begin with is because I wanted free coffee. Yes, I admit it. I was totally using him for his barista skillz. But, that was before I found out he was under 21, and unable to purchase me a beverage. Now I'm all kinds of stuck with him. The boy is harder to shake than the common cold. And, I can't figure out how to let him down gently, because I don't want to hurt the poor guy's feelings. And dang it, the coffee is expensive. *sigh*. How do I get myself into these things.

I do have a sneaky alternative. I had a great first date yesterday. Hopefully, I'll be able to get a relationship out of this (and a trip to Italy, but that's another story for another time) and then shake the 'bux boyf. I'm so undercover !:)

Unrelated note

On an unrelated note, my mother inquired as to whether I'd emailed someone. Ok, I'll stop being coy. She asked if I'd emailed the engineer. The answer, of course, was not. But it was odd, she asked the question not a day after I'd considered doing it. But I remain stubborn. For once I'm listening to my guy friends rather than the girls. The girls all say, give it another chance. Maybe he really meant it. All but one of my guy friends say it's just a ploy. (The other guy just didn't know what to say, so he chose not to comment at all). I'm inclined to believe the boys on this one. On the other hand, they may be just screwing with me because these are the type of friends that I have -- cynics and sarcastics. Makes sense -- like attracts like doesn't it? At any rate, just in case anyone else was wondering the answer is still no. No email on my part.

Clocks, hormones and the Bible

So, the SiQ and I were talking the other day (shocking, I know). We were discussing why the somewhat sudden onslaught of hormones and boy-craziness. I found it strange that all I could concentrate on lately were boys, given my usual take 'em or leave 'em theory. With the exception of those times when I need a date for a particular event.

Given her scientific genius, she hypothesized that it was because the biological clock was ticking. I countered taht I wasn't particularly in the market for little kiddies. To which she responded that my personal preferences are not at all related to my biological inner workings. (I swear, she has an answer for everything). Which got me to thinking....

If we're pre-programmed to start husband hunting, and we have biological clocks that start ticking when it's time to start looking, and I am ill-equipped to fight that urgent need (unlike flowers, which procreate all on their own), then why is premarital sex a sin? And moreover, if it's a sin, why aren't men graced with that very same biological timer to start picking up wives? In the alternative, are they just better at ignoring said clock? Or is it that they're always thinking about sex, and therefore they don't realize that it's time for them to start cherry-picking wives? And why am I thinking about it anyway, since under no circumstances am I ready for children and marriage?

Clearly, I am overthinking this, but this is what we lawyer people do. Ok? So leave me alone. :).

Leprechauns and Shamrocks

On St. Patty's Day, everyone here beats a heart of green. Well, everyone but me, apparently. If it wasn't so noisy outside my window, I would have been satisfied to stay home yesterday. Not because I don't enjoy a nice beverage or two, but something about this holiday brings out the worst in people. It brings out the angry, obnoxious, drunk, rather than the friendly, happy, alkie. Maybe this is what happens when the beer is dyed green.

Ironically, last night was the first night that I went to a bar and saw a significant number of black people. I didn't know any of them, but I made a point to say hello. Ok ok ok. So the men were hot. The really hot one was wearing a wedding band (bastard). The next hot one was with his girl (who was hatin'). The next two just didn't measure up after I saw the first two. And true to my pattern, they were ALL younger than me. That's it. I'm officially a cradle-robber. (Although the young'n still holds the title as the youngest cradle I've ever robbed). Just call me Mrs. Robinson.

But I digress. I've never been all that color-specific. I'm content to hang out with any cool person, so long as s/he isn't green -- because that's usually an indication of some sort of illness. But, since moving, all I see when going out are white people. Now, my dear white people, you're very nice, but can you please play nice with others? One night, not so long ago, I was out with some of my Asian friends. That's a lie, they were all half-Asian. Anyway, my one friend LeAnn were discussing this very subject. And she referenced that night, pointing out that I'd seen a hot --black-- guy. (Although he could quite possibly have been mixed). To which I responded "I shouldn't be able to count the number of people of color!" Between our table, that guy, and "THAT guy" there were maybe 6 of us. Hooo Ahh.

Ok, so all of that ranting to say that I ironically spent a better portion of my Irish night with the least Irish people I could find. And, I must say, despite my eye-rolling toward the general idea of St. Patty's, it was quite enjoyable. Even if the hot one was wearing a wedding band. That was particularly sad since I got chills when he touched my leg. AND he was a metro. Dang it. Ah well, as the SiQ reminded me, the American Homewrecker's Association went bankrupt. Jerks. :)

So my ex-fiance and I weren't so off

http://coaches.aol.com/wellness/feature/_a/sleeping-apart-from-your-spouse/20070312110709990001
Just in case you can't access this program, it basically says couples the world over are choosing to sleep separately because they sleep better that way. Thank you, thank you, thank you. A great big I told you so to all of you!

Why does everything taste better after midnight?

A question posed in the IKEA commercials. I'd like to offer a few theories:

1. You can eat guilt-free, because no one's going to see you eating.
2. Because calories absorbed in the middle of the night don't count against you.
3. Because you can evenly spread the Points as necessary to help you stay in your w.w. limit.
4. Because nobody saw you, they can't prove anything.
5. Because you have the entire following day to make up for it at the gym.

In other news, spring has nearly sprung. *Sigh. Time to start contemplating bikini season. Not that I'll be wearing one, since I don't swim. But less layers means less covering. Rats.