Say Whuh?
There are drawbacks to dating someone who reads your blog. The most obvious is that you can't talk shit about him the next day, even if he does/says/wears something that just begs to be mocked. You can't regulate the flow of information - a quick browse through your archives and he has insider information on your evil ex, that embarassing incident with the plunger, and what your favorite pair of undies looks like. Dating someone else? He knows all about it (and doesn't really appreciate it, FYI). But the hardest part about dating someone who reads your blog is: what the hell do you have to talk about?
ME: So I was on the train the other day and this guy just-
DATE: Yeah yeah, he blew his nose on his hand, I know. I read it.
ME: Oh. Right.
The more pressing issue, of course, might be the fact that I'm discussing snot on a first date, but let's save that one for another time, mm-kay? The fact is, I have a date tonight and I've got absopooply nuthin to say. One of my smart bloggie friends says I should ask him about himself, which is a novel and interesting idea. Hmm. Talk about something other than me? Well it's worth a try! Tune in tomorrow to find out whether I pulled it off. Or, you know, not.
The Boob Tube
I hear there were a bunch of big season finales on TV last night and somebody won American Idle or something. I don't know, I taped the Cary Grant biography thing instead. Look at me, I watch PBS! I'm too good for network TV! Aren't you impressed? But listen, did y'all know Cary Grant was a big ole bisexual? Plus, he took a crapload of acid and got Timothy Leary into LSD. Now tell me that doesn't sound more exciting than a bunch of people floating around on a raft.
Oh, and if any of you watched the Amber Frye movie, please stop reading and slap yourself immediately. Thanks.
* * * * * *
I Love My Hot Russian Friend
Sorry boys, this saucy minx is getting hitched
The Spark That Bled
Tonight's festivities with Concert Josh start off with a documentary about big-balloon-bouncing fake-blood-wearing whackjobs, The Flaming Lips. Can't. WAIT.
"Felt Good to Burn"
"Yoshimi"
it was all the rage, it was all the fashion
ME: So I was on the train the other day and this guy just-
DATE: Yeah yeah, he blew his nose on his hand, I know. I read it.
ME: Oh. Right.
The more pressing issue, of course, might be the fact that I'm discussing snot on a first date, but let's save that one for another time, mm-kay? The fact is, I have a date tonight and I've got absopooply nuthin to say. One of my smart bloggie friends says I should ask him about himself, which is a novel and interesting idea. Hmm. Talk about something other than me? Well it's worth a try! Tune in tomorrow to find out whether I pulled it off. Or, you know, not.
The Boob Tube
I hear there were a bunch of big season finales on TV last night and somebody won American Idle or something. I don't know, I taped the Cary Grant biography thing instead. Look at me, I watch PBS! I'm too good for network TV! Aren't you impressed? But listen, did y'all know Cary Grant was a big ole bisexual? Plus, he took a crapload of acid and got Timothy Leary into LSD. Now tell me that doesn't sound more exciting than a bunch of people floating around on a raft.
Oh, and if any of you watched the Amber Frye movie, please stop reading and slap yourself immediately. Thanks.
I Love My Hot Russian Friend
Sorry boys, this saucy minx is getting hitched
The Spark That Bled
Tonight's festivities with Concert Josh start off with a documentary about big-balloon-bouncing fake-blood-wearing whackjobs, The Flaming Lips. Can't. WAIT.
"Felt Good to Burn"
"Yoshimi"
it was all the rage, it was all the fashion
Tequila Red called it a day @ 12:21 PM
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