ho, ho, ho

Now that I've rid myself of the job from hell and have managed to tame my wild spending, I've got the focus and the will to devote my time to more amorous pursuits. I am shamelessly using my blog to announce the formation of my exploratory committee. Furthermore, both Jake and Jess have generously provided ringing endorsements of my candidacy to become the next lesbo Don Juan (buttons, bumper stickers and t-shirts from CafePress.com to follow). By the way Jake, thank you for using the term "rack" in the same paragraph when referencing moi. It's the first -- and probably the last -- time that will ever happen but my perky A-cups thank and salute you nonetheless!

It has occurred to me that this may all seem really lame and pathetic, however, I don't give a rat's ass. I go out on a lot dates and lately, they've all sucked. The conversion rate of dinner to um... you know... dessert has hit an all-time low. I blame myself, really. I think as I'm getting older, I'm becoming increasingly crotchety and my fussiness is just out of control. Some of my reasons for dismissal rank right up there with man hands and the enjoyment of Dockers commercials as the most shallow justifications ever.

So Jess is pimping me out. She will carefully weed through the potential applicants since I'm too damn fussy. After all, I would, according to Jess, jettison an email if it arrived composed in the Comic Sans font. I won't even argue that because while it wouldn't be a deal breaker, it would be mentally noted and filed away for future reference.

Now who wants some of this?!?

Fine print: Sorry boys, I'm a lover of the ladies and no, you can't watch.