Normalcy, Early Twenties, Religion, and Fertility

There have been some things going on in my life recently that are out of the ordinary. First of all, I am tired. I have been sick with 'the crud' as my patients call it. This mysterious illness consists of sore, scratchy throat, cough, congestion, nasal congestion, and ear irritation. At once. However, these symptoms may make you feel like ass, you're still not actually sick enough to miss work. Balls. Like no fever, not contagious, nothing to make the boss find coverage for me. That's the trouble with working for a physician, they kind of know when you're too sick to work and send you home. If you don't show up, they want a note. So has been the last week of my life; sick, but not quite sick enough.

Normal. You're not like normal girls, you're only nice one week out of the month. What exactly is normal? I made this bowl of corn noodles for you and I made regular noodles for the normal people. I just want to have one normal day. Whatever that means. I mean really, what is normal? Who gets to decide what is and isn't normal. I might not be the most normal person I know, but I'm normal for me. I want to have a text-book normal day at work. Just once. I guess when I find that leprechaun I'll be sure to get my three wishes and ask for that one as well as cures for all currently incurable diseases.

I have a new roommate. He's 24. He moved in on Friday, and it's the first time we've met. It seems like we'll get along. Honestly. But his friends..... The early twenties male is different from the late twenties, rounding thirty male. Add alcohol to this and I don't think that I need to elaborate on that. I find them annoying, and intolerable. Over the summer I was happy to be around this age group, as they were so cute and fun. But as a sober woman that's getting over 'the crud' they bugged the hell out of me. My new roommie actually called me after they had all left my house on Saturday from the quite comforts of his truck on the way to the gym and apologized to me for their behavior. I took this as a good thing. He realizes his friends are idiots too. All in all, I think we will get along just fine. And my landlord evidently has faith in me that I could get along with anyone. Little does he know I'm only nice one week a month.

I also have had my questionable religious practices thrown up in my face lately. Let me point out that other people, normal people, have been asking the questions. I was raised to be Catholic. I do not practice, and have not practiced Catholicism for the last few years. I did, however go with my mum and g-ma two weeks ago and they spewed from the pulpit that when people get married it's for life blah blah bullshit. I looked at my mother. She says to me that God has never meant for anyone to stay in a dangerous situation, that's why He gave me the strength to break free. OKay, way to put a spin on it for me, mum. I enjoy my time watching church on TV. The TV evangelists are entertaining as well as passionate about the Bible. I pray to God and to the saints (that's the Catholic in me.) I also believe in the chakra's and healing through crystals or meditation (that's the hippie in me.) I believe the universe sends us signs and we can either take heed or ignore them. I believe in karma and auras. Maybe you think I'm wrong, and that's fine with me. I've never claimed to be right. For all I know, the Amish have it right and we're all going to hell for using electricity.

My mortality has been challenged. My best friend's husband had leukemia. He was diagnosed over seven years ago. He is doing great. In fact, out of the people who received treatment in his care unit, he is the only survivor. He is now sterile, and in preparation for this made a small deposit to a special savings account to be held on ice. His wife has tried IUI three times without pregnancy. She has even donated her eggs for a couple that could not conceive with their own. She asked me to go with them yesterday up to Maryland for implantation, IVF. They took two 8 cell embryo's and placed them in her uterus. Then we drove home. She will know in 10 days if her body will nurture them, or has expelled them. As I sat there in the waiting room of this extrodinary facility that gives life to the barren, I realized that we were all in here, this room for the same reason. That makes it different than your normal doctor's appointment. There are great odds that I too will be sitting in that waiting room as a patient one day. Should I decide to procreate. Should I find someone that I could share a life with. And after all the hormones and procedures and shots and pills that my dear sweet friend has endured, I just looked at the two of them and I couldn't imagine ever being strong enough to go through it. When he was in the hospital, beating the odds, fighting for his life and through recovery, he borrowed her strength. Now she uses his. Looking at them makes me see the value of love.

So I have had some reflecting to do. Reflection is always good, right? I don't know that I'm going to be a nicer person more than one week out of the month, but we'll see. I actually have taken a small poll. Everyone's first reaction to the question: Am I only nice one week out of the month? has been one of two things. Either a half smile, yeah when you're PMSing- just kidding! or a tilt of the head and high-pitched, no, I wouldn't exactly say that. *shrug* Whateva. I'm not fool enough to think that I'm not a work in progress.

Cheaters Never Win, and Winners never Cheat, Right?

Cheaters.

Is the old saying true: Once a cheater, always a cheater? And does Karma really smack us in the ass? I mean, if you cheat on your significant other, does karma then return the favor by having them cheat on you? What if no one would ever be the wiser? If a tree falls in the forest, does it make a sound if no one's there to hear it?

In my experience as the tree, no. It does not. However as the ground, yes- loud and clear. I'm not saying I've ever cheated on anyone, however I may have been a participant, an Xfactor if you will. I don't think that's as bad. If I knew a guy had a girl, but was hitting on me I must say that I have generally put up a good fight before giving in and being the true kissing slut that I am. BUT I don't think I should have been the one putting up the fight in the first place. Let me point out here that if he was wearing a little gold band, I have no difficulties keeping my hands to myself. If you are ecstatically happy with your bf or gf you shouldn't be looking elsewhere or putting your hands elsewhere. If you do, are you the type of person that can let it go and keep a secret? Looking into your sweetie's eyes, knowing that less than 24 hours ago you were looking in someone else's eyes.

And what about that sweetie? Who may or may not have the right to cheat on you to even the scale. Personally speaking, when I have been cheated on in my spotted past, I didn't cheat back. Two wrongs don't exactly make a right. I am also able to say that I've never been the cheater. I'm not on a high horse or anything, but in my experience, one man is plenty trouble for me.

Do cheaters get what they deserve? Maybe. Like a crabs or body lice. Or the mouth herpes. But what if they think they are being galiant by coming clean and fessing up to their sweetie pie? Do they get forgiven and all is well? Or does said sweetie pie kick your cheatn' ass to the karmatic curb? Either way, crabs or breakup: is that what a cheater deserves?

And what about the X factor? You know the one you cheated with. Do you a) try to start something up with him/her after you get dumped; or b) do they want nothing to do with you because of your complete lack of respect for them? Let's consider both options. A) you figure that if there was enough attraction to cheat with this person, you might get to actually date. Maybe you go out for a little while, but in the back in of the Xfactor's mind they're thinking: Is he/she going to cheat on me too? And believe me, they're thinking it. So that won't last. B) You treated them like you thought there was something exceptional about them and then you went back to your sweetie pie. That's got to feel pretty damn crappy, so they still don't want anything to do with you. Head's up folks, this is the karma part.

Now for a little audience participation: Let's take a poll. Have you ever been the Xfactor, the cheater, or the cheated on? And how did it make you feel? I think that if you are a decent human being, any of these three roles feels like ass. If it didn't you're clearly a selfish bastard. Watch out for that karma.

There Was a Farmer, Had a Dog and Bingo was His Name-o

It's Friday Night. Big hair. No hair. Track suits. Mom jeans. I'm here raising money for the Red Cross. Strong perfume. Body odor. Yellow teeth. No teeth. I get there late, and they've often already started. Oxygen tanks. Sequined hats. Buddahs. Rabbits feet. Trolls. Smoky haze. Nope, scratch that- smoke so thick I can't see who's calling for me. How do they know my name? Name tag. NO- they can't see the name tag. Coffee. Snacks. Fiber. Big jewelry. Breasts to the knees. I could wear rollerskates to be more efficient. Cigars. Too hot. Too cold. Horse shoes. Four leaf clovers. Glasses. Hairy ears. Hairy noses. Blue hair. Don't pull your money out of your bra, that's McNasty- I have to touch that money. Specials. Jackpot. Quickies. Treasure Chest. Winner Takes All. Postage stamp. Seesaw. Single. Double. Triple. Cover all. They pay me in coins and my apron jingles. Hunch back. Wheelchairs. Sandals with socks. The eerie sound of silence, only interrupted by 'thump' 'thump' 'thump.'
I am at the bingo hall.

SORRY: a. Feeling sorrow; grieved; sorrowful; wretched; pitiful.

Does saying your sorry about something ever really make it alright? If you do something, or say something that hurts or upsets someone does it magically make it all better to apologize? Or are you basically saying that you can go through life doing what you please regardless of how your actions might impact others and then just shrug and say sorry to make all forgotten?

As children we are taught that saying you're sorry is a polite way to tell someone that you recognize you were bad. And as children, this action is rewarded with forgiveness.

As Catholics you are taught that to say you're sorry and ask for forgiveness is an obligation, and will bring you closer to God if you are truly sorrowful for what you have done. You have to confess your sins to a priest for such forgiveness.

As an adult we learn that nothing is that cut and dry. Selfishness is the way of the world. You try to treat people fairly, but in the grand plan of things, it comes down to 'How does this effect me?' And then you judge the sitch accordingly. In your own pursuit of happiness, if someone else gets let down, can you just say sorry to make that person feel better?

I think there is a difference between intentionally and unintentionally upsetting someone, and maybe apologies fit in there. If I know for a fact that I am about to do something that will directly impact displeasure on someone, can I then later say I was sorry about it? Will this lesson the action or words? Will it make the other person think they were silly for even entertaining thoughts of unpleasantries? I think not. But if someone accidentally does something that they didn't realize was going to upset someone, then can they use verbal apologies and make the person who feels upset feel vindicated?

Here's what I think: I think that apologies are bullshit most of the time. Nothing can be taken back, nothing can be done over. Things can only be learned from and changed for future events. Don't tell me you're sorry about something. It won't change anything at that point. Don't say you're sorry before you do something and then do it anyway, either. That doesn't lessen the blow or make it easier. If you were really sorry, you would find a way around these actions. I think there is something to be said about a heartfelt apology. Like when the person is in tears and says they are going to find some way to make it up to you. Or brings such a gesture forth when they are apologizing. That shows that they feel bad about making you feel bad. But it still doesn't take back the action or words, so is it really effective?

I could say I was sorry about rambling on about this point, but then if I was really sorry, why did I post the blog? See what I mean........

Mmm...Food...

It has been brought to my attention that I talk about food too much. As I have mentioned in past posts, I have an incurable disease which has stopped responding to medical treatment. In a last effort at symptom improvement before life altering surgery, I read as many books as I could and discovered a limited diet that I could adopt that actually changed my life.

With a big unfortunately, that diet cuts out all foods dear to me. I no longer eat meat, dairy, fish, fried foods, caffeine, sugar, chocolate, coffee, and most of all, WHEAT products. Wheat and gluten are in everything. Soy sauce, twizlers, Crystal Lite drinks, soups, salad dressings, and a million other things that are other than the normal: Bread. Beer. Pancakes. Cakes. Waffles. Burritos. Pasta. Pizza. It's also used as a thickener and binding agent. Like in totts from Burger King. I have to take care and concern in eating out and grocery shopping takes an hour for a weeks worth of food usually. That's why I listen to my iPod in the store. Wheat causes me great pain and suffering.

I dream about the foods I can't have. I have a re-occurring dream about eating a footlong Philly Cheesesteake with mushrooms and no onions. I am experiencing eating the sub and a shapeless entity is telling me Cori Stop! It's going to make you so sick! But I continue to eat it, and then wake up with that WTF? feeling. I also have dreams about hot men feeding me desserts that I can't eat. Hell would be if I were to date a pastry chef.

On Sunday I start my detox. I am not looking forward to it, however I am looking forward to the feeling of 'this is as healthy as it gets for me' that I have after a detox. After this, I'm giving up night veggies too. These are potatoes, eggplant, and squash. I could give up corn, but I'd have to kill myself if I couldn't have chips and salsa at the Mexican places. Since I value my life, I don't see any reason to punish myself anymore. I already gave up cheese, which is considered self punishment, I think.

So yes, I do talk about food too much. But just think about it: if there is something in your life that you enjoy, and it is taken away from you because it causes you physical pain and suffering, don't you still miss it and in fact look at it with fond memories? When my friends order food that I can't eat or a patient gives us something that only the nurse gets to have, I like to ask them what it tastes like. I like to smell it too. Not like sniff all up on it or anything, but just smell the vapors of a passion of my past. At least I don't tell them I can't be around them eating food I can't have. The first detox was really hard. Not drinking anything but water and herbal tea, and still trying to go out with my friends. At one point I got tired of being designated driver, and as the chronic pain was lessening, I thought that having just one drink wouldn't hurt me. But I got a hold of myself and just didn't hang with them until the feeling passed. It doesn't bother me anymore.

I donate blood and platelets so much that there are plenty of weekends I don't drink. And get this shit- the Red Cross calls me yesterday and says that they have to cancel my appointment for donation Thursday because they can't use my blood. I think I heard her say that in slow motion You can't donate, we can't accept your blood. Yeah, that isn't exactly what you want to hear. Turns out that I have donated whole blood 5 times and platelets 5 times in 2006 and I needed to put a break between whole blood. I can still donate platelets no prob. Anyway, that's more important to me than getting wrecked.

Don't worry, the illness does not in any way effect the quality of my blood, or put the receiving person in any danger whatsoever. Promise. There have been tests. Where was I going with all this? Oh right, that I love food and I talk about it and I dream about it. But don't people always talk about things they want and can't have?

Boys Night Out

Last night I hung out with the guys. And I think that they forgot that I was a chick for most of the night. I had a fucking blast! I get over to my friend Brent's house and pick him up, he is impressed that I drive stick, like girls normally don't drive standards or something. We make it over to Steve's house and our friend Mo meets us there. I am sitting on the couch watching Kill Bill 1 and they are having a ski-ball match. I am drinking my one cocktail of the night: sprite and stoli-razz. Yummy. This goes on until about 10:30 when we decide to actually go out so they can look for hot women to swoon. Fine by me.

We all pile into my car and again have the stick shift conversation before arriving at the Ocean Front to stir up some trouble. Now mind you, we're jammn' out to old skool hip hop in the car and they're talking about hooking up and were everyone (except me) will sleep tonight. We get there and meet up with their friend Stephanie who I remember having pictures of, but no distinct recollection of knowing. I tell her this and she says yes- Mo's B-day party. I say, right, you were drinking out of two bottles of beer at once, and she says that was her, and oh wait! aren't you the girl that was making out with that guy in the bathroom and got kicked out of the club??? Yes, it was I (and there was nothing going on but lip to lip conduct, honestly. And Brent says That was you? I never know who the girl was! Yes. It was I. We watch the end of the Dallas game, which I cheer for the Steelers (keep your comments to yourself) or any team playing Dallas. So, on top of it being a great game, the SeaHawks won. Awesome. I then get to hear all about the women in the joint. Their asses, titts, hair, etc. etc. etc. I interject when I truely think it is a great ass, or the boobs were bought. I have become one of the guys. They finish their beers and we roll to another club.

This time they talk me into a shot- cherry bomb. It's only 11 something. Then we start to dance. Mo is a great dancer- Brent is your typical white guy who can't dance, but really likes to, and Steve stands and sways. They are not mingling. In an effort to help them out, I dance up to two women and tell them that my friends are really shy, but want to dance, would they please dance with them. Now, my friends are not bad looking guys. Mo is actually very good looking, and Brent's cute. Okay, so Steve isn't all that, but he does have a nice smile. They dance and then the alcohol and this new vote of confidence kicks in. They are having a great time, and so am I. Dancing with them, dancing with whoever... Then they play Tribe Called Quest: Scenario, which I love, so I am in the middle of the floor dancing by myself when this red hat guy comes up and is grinding away. I break free, but after the song is finished he's trying to talk to me. So I am prentending I can't hear him over the music. He is hanging around me, creepy, so I send a text to my boys since I've lost them. I see Brent across the room, the drunk ass opens his phone to check the text, but then uses it as a personal spotlight while dancing. Fool! read the damn thing! He does, and I guess Mo did at the same time because the next thing I know they are all three swarming me with hugs like they just found me. It was good- Red Hat got the hint. We continue to dance into the night. Then it's last call and the lights come on. That's when the trouble of being DD comes in. You see, now they can get a good look at the women they've been macking on. They like what they see, and I am trying my best to wrangle three men out of the club. I get outside with one and wait for the other two to emerge.

Well, one by one they come out, only to try to hit on the women waiting for cabs, and offer them a ride in my little Civic. This takes approx 27 minutes after the bar closed before I talk them into going back to the car, with promises of food on the horizon.

We get to iHop (which, by the way, they hopped all the way from the car to the door) and they are drunk and loud and pretty amusing. Then our waitress is a chick Mo went out on a date with several weeks ago, but he never called her back. Nothing says 'sorry for not calling' like dragging your drunk friends into your place of business at 3 in the morning. They finish their food, and half of mine before we go to pay. I am now listening to them - in last ditch effort- hit on iHop women. I drag them out to the car against their will and we all pile in where I drop them off after hearing all about the bitches they could have had tonight if they had started the evening earlier. I ask Brent was he staying at Steve's too, or was I taking him home? He says if it isn't any trouble he'd rather be home. Mo is trying to talk him out of this with the prospect of continuing the ski-ball tournament and drinking more. He declines and they have this low exchange of words in the back seat before Mo says Cori isn't offering to get you back to your place to hook up with! You are correct Mo. Brent: Maybe I'm trying to get her back there to hook up with her! Actaully dude, you're probably going to have more luck with the ski-ball advancement tonight. I'm joking! I'm just joking! I just want to stay in my own bed tonight. Good thing. I take them all home and get a bunch of breakast smelling drunk hugs.

After I wake up I go over these events on the phone with my friend, Al. She had wanted me to be wingman last night- but I was wingman for her the night before and didn't get home until 7am. I wasn't planning on that again for last night. Technically I think I am a 'chickenwing'. Although, I did get to make out with Al's object of affection's equally hot wingman that night. Sometimes you just have to take one for the team...She goes over her evening, clearly not as much fun as mine. I defend that I did not make out with anyone, sorry I didn't meet up with you later; wait gotta go- Adrienne's beeping in. No, I didn't make out with anyone, sorry I never made it to meet up with you....Got a text from Amber, No I didn't make out with anyone, I was sober, sorry I didn't make it to your friend's b-day party, why are you so pissed at me? I told you I wasn't planning on going to begin with, I don't even know his last name.... So how does that happen? I have a great night out with the guys and somehow still can't avoid chick drama. Figures, and it figures why I'm invited to guys night, and they aren't.

Type-O

Now that I have posted about the New Year's agreement, I have been asked by a few extra friends that want to participate: What is my type? I have thought about this, since I usually say O-neg, because I'm a smart ass. This got me thinking- which is almost as dangerous as my cooking. I know the qualities of the men I like, but I can't really define a "type." I also know what I don't like, so I guess I'll have to cover all the ground.

Sense of humor is by far the most important for me. That's what catches my eye to begin with, a great smile and a guy who's laughing. I like a guy that has messy hair. He can use product, but a clean cut, meticulous look says 'up tight' like nothing else. Honesty is more than huge, and so is sincerity. Gets along well with others, like, can you come to a party and only know me, but leave with 16 new friends to add to your MySpace? Gentle to rough kiss/touch transition. You know what I mean here. There is something to be said about a guy that knows the mood, and goes at the according speed. Not that I don't mind driving, myself. Hygiene is very important, as well. A guy that smells good is the kind you want to be closer to.

That isn't too much to ask is it? Sense of humor, social ability, passionate, considerate, hygienically conscious, honest and sincere. Not to forget educated- not like Yale or anything, but good conversation is what keeps people together longer than hot sex will. Somehow, finding a single man around my age with all of these qualities at once is difficult. I don't like men that make sexual jokes all the time- yes, as woman we actually do know that 87% of the time men are thinking or sex, BUT, you don't have to talk about it all the time. I don't like the extremes: Clinginess and apathy. They either call you 37 times a day, or every 37 days. There needs to be a happy medium. If you really like someone, yes you should want to spend time with them, no it should not be 20 out of the 24 hours of the day. Being mean, rude, liars, pimps, used car salesman, drug addicts, strip club addicts, gamblers, you know- all the ones your mom warns you about.

What this really comes down to, I think, is: What type of woman am I?

I laugh loud, and I laugh often. That is actually the common ground with my group of friends. I never lie, or feel guilty about things. I don't have to feel guilty, I generally weigh out my choices, or am too drunk when making them to be held accountable. I'm kind of a smartass, and kind of silly. My closest friends say I'm sweet, but if you just met me, you might swear I'm a bitch. I value my time, and I make time for the people and things that I care about. I love music- all types, loud and live, or soft and private. Hearing a guy playing a guitar while falling asleep has got to be on of my favorite memories of a past boyfriend. I am passionate and feisty. I am clean and considerate. I am stubborn and I'm selfish, and a survivor. I am the one to take the dare. I am extremely independent and I take care of myself. I don't think it's too much to ask for a man who would treat me better than I treat myself. I know that when I look at it in black and white- well, puse and white- that I'm a little overwhelming. *sigh, deep breath in and out* I guess that's the problem.

Points of Ponderment...

It's 2007. I have been thinking in the last few days a few points of ponderment. I shall, of course, materialize my thoughts here- in cyberspace- for all to read. I'm sure by the end of this, you will have the same WTF? look on you face as I do when someone tries to talk to me when I am listening to my iPod in the grocery store. The know I'm listening too! Not only can they SEE the damn ear plugs, but they can clearly see me doing a slight little dance as I am trying to select wine. Why try to talk to me? Middle-aged white woman? I am in the freaking wine isle apparently I too think you can buy alcohol on Sunday. God Bless Virginia.

And then there are those sympathetic insults- I was thinking about this today. Why would you say, oh, you LOOK like you don't feel good today. What kind of shit is that? That is an outright insult, wrapped up in some sympathy. But you know what they say, of every ten persons who talks about you, nine will say something bad, and the tenth with say something good in a bad way. Or is it bad in a good way? Either way, am I the only person that ten people would all be talking bad about? Perhaps. I can live with that. Which brings me right around to unfriends.

Choose your friends carefully, but choose your unfriends even more so wisely. Unfriends are the good friends you once had that crossed you. Or that have changed so drastically that you no longer have any interest or any effort in being their friends. *I'm eating dry chex cereal right now-mmmmm, I loves me some chex!* If someone is no longer a desirable friend, you can unfriend them. BUT YOU CAN NEVER REFRIEND AN UNFRIEND. This excludes family, who God clearly pays to love you. Which is why you choose carefully. Unfriending is sometimes easy, someone does something so bad to you that your anger will not allow you to have any more concern for them. Sometimes it's harder. Sometimes, you can't believe it came down to it and you've lost someone that you care for forever. And you know what, that one never stops hurting. Then there's the type where you just grew apart, lost touch, and the friendship wasn't worth it after all to try to revive. The unfriends usually see it coming, unless they have changed so much and you're so different they think you're still friends. I've been unfriended before. Like I said, guess we weren't as good of friends as I thought. But you know what they say in Uck'em...

And what about 7th Heaven? How is it that you can watch one re-run on the WB and then accidentally catch the current episode and still know everything that's going on? And damn if you don't have to watch the entire hour! Just sucks you in. I'm not saying it's a wasted hour of my life or anything, not like realizing one day that you're watching the Ghost Whisperer with Jennifer Boobs Hewett and my God! That hour can never be regained. She is SUCH a bad actress! And has a bad haircut. Who told her that everyone looks good in bangs? Probably someone who she unfriended. And then she has to stand there, quivering in the rain in her little linen blouse. I just wanna bitch slap her and tell her to stop shopping in Baby Gap. By some clothes that fit! But then, if she wasn't half naked, men might have to actually concentrate on her acting and she would end up homeless, penniless, 50 pounds over weight and living in a van down by the river. Look what happened to Pam Anderson after BayWatch. OK, so she's still hot, but she was married to Kid Rock (not to be confused with Chris Rock) and that has to equal van by the river. Or, well, white trash trailer by the river.

Speaking of: Britney Spears. Never mind- that's too easy. Easy being the key word.

And I lost my keys last weekend, and it took a half a day to track them down. But on the plus side, my friend Mo got to see how he would look as a white woman, since I had to wear his clothes out to lunch. Thankfully he has great taste, but then we are friends, so that's obvious. The Pleather pants were not making it to Azar's for lunch. They are for evening wear strictly. But pretty impressive in their own right, not to be worn like at work or anything.

Speaking of, I'm stealing Internet time right meow. I used to go to the library, but using the public keyboard wigged me out. You never know where the fingers have been that touch those keys and mouses! Or is that mice? Whateva. I'm rollin up outta here- it's only the second day of the year, I've got 363 days left to make this the best year of my life! Check the closest mirror to you my friend, even if you stole it from a condo you looked at, but didn't buy: there, there it is.... that WTF look! Happy New Year Bitches!

New Year's Contract, not Resolution...

So, it's New Year's again. 2007, Bitches. As I review the past months, and realize that I have 51 hours left of 2006, I ponder the bazaar chain of events that have led me to the current standing agreement I have agreed to. (I like the redundancy of the word 'agree'.) Two of my friends have decided to join forces and prevent me from choosing the men I date for 365 days.


See, I was beginning to think that I was dating the same two men over and over and they just had different heads so I could tell them apart. If you're reading this and we dated in 2004-2006, you fall into one of the these categories. I will not get into too much detail with this, because I don't want to waste a minute of my 51 hours regretting my actions in the past.

The contract I have willingly entered into states that I will not initiate a date or flirt with any men, as well as that must stop being a kissing slut. This stipulation is covered under Article K, Section IV, Page Six. This will by far be the greatest challenge. I have also agreed to not call the guys. They must call me, unless they are waiting for me to confirm later plans. Plans that I am not allowed to plan. Now, there is one contingency to this agreement. This is not to be used for the forces of evil. I clearly needed to lay down some rules.

Firstly, I told them, don't try to set me up with anyone you wouldn't date yourself. Next, this is not to be used as an opportunity to act vengeance upon me from past deeds or if you're currently pissed at me. The guy (ah, must be a guy) needs to have a valid drivers license and NOT live at home with his folks. No offense to the ones that do not meet the guidelines, but it's just not my bag.

Back to my pondering... I've dated and made out with, well, strangers, and stayed out way too late and gotten way too drunk way too many times. Then I was hung up on this guy, I was ready to make a ------wait for it------- drum roll------- commitment ( I caught monogamy hanging out with the two friends that have started this ball of dating danger rolling) and this guy didn't realize I was a catch (damnit!) and let me slip through his fingers. It was after this unfortunate circumstance that they told me I was no longer in control of the situation and hence the pack was forged. I am looking foward to someone else being behind the wheel, really. Stay tuned- it should at least make for some interesting blogs! Now if you'll excuse me, I have 50.5 hours to do whatever I please. I need to slip into my pleather pants.....