Saturday, October 9, 2010


What's the point of a blog if I'm not keeping up with it?

It's October 2010. 3 months ago, I quit my horrendous fulltime job. No, I didn't have anything else lined up. Yes, in THIS economy. Yes, I'm probably stupid

I've been looking nonstop. I've been rejected multiple times. I feel pretty worthless, and I'm quickly running out of money.

Ah, money. I had forgotten what an evil mistress you are.

The radio station is my saving grace, gives me a purpose. Still...

I find that being still single, with 4 cats (yes I kept the baby, you all knew I would), takes its toll.

I see from past posts that I've mentioned 3 guys so far.

Here's a 4th. He's younger. He's smart. He's a father. He's amazing in bed.

He's a complete douchebag.

Aren't they all?

Yet whenever I try to just forget about it, or call him out on his doucheness, he knows exactly what to say to get my hopes up again.

It's my usual pattern in an endless cycle of self esteem issues, made worse by not having a job to focus my attentions on.

My eldest cat just jumped on the bed, she seems to sense my irritation.

Good kitty.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone


Saturday, July 10, 2010


Age is a funny thing. We all feel younger than we are. We think we look younger than we do. Reading articles about adult actors, ones who play parts that I think are older than me, usually end up actually being younger. My boss, who I thought was in her 40s, is my age. Depressing.

-- Post From My iPhone


Why do I always get my hopes up?

After 32 years, you'd think I'd learn a guy's mind. Sex, food, beer, sports, sex. There are rarely feelings, at least not where I'm concerned.

Yet another one comes along, I feel chemistry there, and I get my hopes up.

Why haven't I learned? 32 years. Obviously I'm an idiot.

The name of the blog says it, doesn't it? I'm doomed.

Three weeks ago, an employee found a kitten. She was 1 week old. I couldn't let her die. I took her home. Now I have 4. 4 cats, and another failed attempt at something besides complete lonliness forever.

Is it because I hadn't shaved? Because I wasn't prepared? My house was a mess? Will there EVER be someone that just sees ME? After 32 years, you'd think I'd learn that the answer is no.

So why do I always get my hopes up?

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Nights that suck

So tonight I was supposed to meet Scott. Do you know Scott? I need to fill you in. But. Too drunk

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone


Wednesday, April 14, 2010


Even reading the word gives you a bad feeling, doesn't it? Rejection. Rejection from men, which stems from rejection from my father and so on. I'm not in denial. I am well aware of my mental block issues. I am also aware of reality, and reality is that men get more shallow with every passing year. Blame it on TV, movies, magazines, whathaveyou, but it's a truth we cannot avoid anymore than we can avoid those pesky grey hairs. Men want athletic women, younger women with long hair, big firm tits (no one seems to have informed them that having both usually means they were bought), a nice ass, long legs, and can provide the best sex of their lives. Seriously, read any online dating profile. They don't even try to hide it.

Which makes life a bit difficult for women such as myself. I'm 32. My hair is brown, medium length, greys creeping in. I am not athletic. I weigh 175 pounds on a good day, the heaviest I've ever been, and I'm only 5'0". My tits are ok. Used to be quite perky but have given a little weight to time. My ass is flat and cratered. My legs...well, you read how tall I am. And the sad part is that even with all of this, I probably could provide good sex to someone if they were only patient enough to get through the crap. I like to be good at things. I give damn good head. But I have yet to find someone who is attracted to me long enough to teach me, to give it a chance. On an episode of Friends, Phoebe was ashamed because she was 30 (ahem, Lisa Kudrow, I call bullshit) and had never been in a long-term relationship.

I'm 32. My longest was 3 months. And even then, he didn't live here. In the end, he admitted he wasn't attracted to me anymore. That was 2-3 years ago (I'm horrible with dates), and I'm still not over it. In fact, just two nights ago a guy was in my bed. He also told me he's not attracted to me ("you're just not my type").

Those are just two, though. Two in a lifetime of endless rejection. It takes its toll. One person can only be told they aren't worth it so many times before they start to believe it. And I do believe it. Which just circles back and projects itself onto anyone I meet. I expect the rejection ahead of time. So I get it.

Catch 22.

-- Post From My iPhone


I wouldn't call myself the smartest person in the world. Or even the block. Maybe my building, but that's pushing it. Still, I'm smart enough to know when I've held it in for too long. When those thoughts bubble in you to the point of explosion, either in the form of an AK-47 and a rooftop, or a blog. I have chosen the latter. Welcome, reader.

-- Post From My iPhone