stereotypical single woman

I’ve been neglecting my blogging duties lately. I know. I’ve already scolded myself. “Bad, bad blogger. Not contributing to the good of the blogosphere. Not commenting on other’s blogs. Basically just sitting there, taking up space on people’s RSS reader. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

It’s just that I’m sure you’d rather read something worthwhile than me once again hearing me complain about the patrons at the library (okay, but I’ve got to tell you this one. Last week a guy asked me to help him customize his MySpace page because his girlfriend was giving him grief about about it. But he was so very very naive. Dude was wondering why he was getting so much porn spam - literally, over 100 messages in a week - when his quote was “carpet muncher.” Seriously, how in the hell do you explain that connection, in a public place, with a straight face? I did it though. And then had to run to the break room so I could let out a few really big laughs, otherwise I would have hyperventilated. I really need to get paid more than I do.) Or that I’m so stressed I’m making myself sick again. Let’s not even mention my poor teeth. I’m going to have to get a job with benefits for no other reason than I’m going to need dentures after grinding all mine down while I sleep. Or the fact that I’m going to be 31 in two months and have exponentially more grey hairs than I did last year. Dammit, I used to dye my hair for the fun of it, now it’s out of pure necessity. No one told me that I’d get old this fast.

Instead of boring you with all that here’s my standby blog filler, Marty looking stupid.

I was trying to get a picture of my roses in bloom but somebody hasn’t seen the paparazzi in the last few days and decided that he needed to get in on the picture taking action. Because, of course, if the camera is out, it’s all about him. You can just start calling him Paris.

I’d love to tell you all that this week will be better. That I’ll be funny, consistent with posting, and attentive to you all. But in reality? It’ll be much of the same until May. That is unless I say fuck it all, quit my job, leave school, run away with the boys and join the circus. Then we’ll have great stories to tell. Especially if I can convince the boys to be fire breathers. Or knife throwers. Although you know Marty’s going to want to be the one that gets shot out of the cannon.