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2006-01-29 @ 6:16 p.m.
girls in glasses are cooler than you think

You Are Most Like Miranda!

While you've had your fair share of romance, men don't come first
Guys are a distant third to your friends and career.
And this independence *is* attractive to some men, in measured doses.
Remember that if you imagine the best outcome, it might just happen.

Romantic prediction: Someone from your past is waiting to reconnect...

But you'll have to think of him differently, if you want things to work.

Well, I pretty much expected that....Me being in tune with the sarcastic, insecure, wisecracking Miranda on "Sex and the City". I always identified with her the most anyways and her terrible choices in men. But I am especially intrigued with that last part. The fact that I'm supposedly about to reconnect with somebody from my past. Good God no. Its taken me nearly 14 months to almost not think about...him... on a daily basis. Gah.

Oh silly internet quizzes. What do they know. Heh!....gulp.

Anyways, my intuitiveness is only surpassed by my brilliance, it seems. Now that I am a mere 2 weeks away from my 48th birthday, it seems that I am needing to use my glasses more and more, dammit. I hate wearing my glasses. My lesbian client, who just gave me the boot, always liked to start singing the Sonny and Cher hit "The Beat Goes On" everytime I'd walk into a room with my big, round hippy glasses and beret. I guess she thought I looked like I just dropped in from some nearby Love-in or peace march or something.

But I have been having to wear my glasses more often recently because to be honest, I haven't been able to see anything smaller than say a Chihuahua in like the last six months. So I finally decided to just OWN IT, baby! Just wear the damn glasses, because I noticed something really amazing. Men were looking at me!! Its not that I'm exactly a stunning example of middle aged goddesshood. I'm okay, albeit a little zaftig. But yes, everytime I lift my head, I'd catch a guy, sneaking a peek.

Like today I was walking around the yuppie grocery store and I was using that thing where I try to walk with straighter posture and keep my head up and try not to walk directly to the bulk candy counter and eat 33 pounds of dark chocolate. And I was doing pretty well. The monthly bloodletting had arrived last night...right on the heals of my somewhat impish irritable PMS-inspired recent entry. And what's funny is, I haven't had a period in three months. My body can't decide whether it still wants to be a sexy, viable impregnable woman, or just a dried up irritable old hag with 300 chin hairs. So I'm actually a little bit of both. Yay me!!!

So what was I talking about? Oh, noticing that men were looking at me. Because dammit they actually were. One guy was noticeably following me. I suppose he could have been a store detective, but he was, after all humming and singing, and lobbing things over his shoulder into his shopping cart, in kind of a show-offy way. You know how men are when they're trying to impress a woman with glasses. And then he smiled at me several times and I actually got trapped in a shopping cart traffic jam, where he was involved and I think he did it on purpose so he could talk to me. But alas, he didn't. Maybe he could tell I was menstrating.

So why is the wearing of glasses so intrinsic to this story? Because I think maybe all this male attention has been happening all along but I just couldn't SEE it because everything was so blurry. Wouldn't that be just my luck? Missing out on Mr. Right, because I thought he was a large fuzzy display of Charmin toilet paper.

"Do you witty, take this large display of Charmin toilet paper to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and health, until flush do you part?"
"I do"
"You may now kiss the bride..."
And its only then, when I put my glasses on, that I realize I just married a man-sized paper product produced in a papermill in Oregon.

Desperate times = desperate measures. But just think how great he would be if I spilled something on the kitchen floor.

Speaking of Mr. Not-So-Right, my married coworker "J" did something kind of new and different. He called me at home Thursday night. The reason? He was looking for our boss. You know, since I would supposedly know where she was. Huh? And then after we established that I had no idea where she was, since I wouldn't, since there's no reason in the world that my boss would ever give me her schedule, especially since I've been home sick with a sinus infection since Monday, "J" continued to chat for another 15 minutes. I'm not much of a phone chatter. I finally told him my dinner was ready (it wasn't) and we hung up.

Oy! Men! Can we shoot them? Has that been legalized yet?

My computer has been acting increasingly weird. It may have caught it from my car. I went for a blood test yesterday and my seat belt, which usually straps me in automatically when the car door closes, wouldn't move. I figured it was because it was so cold yesterday when I went to the doctors. But then on the way home, my belt suddenly moved along its little track and I was finally safely strapped in and everything was hunky dory or so I thought. Well, this morning, when it was about 20 degrees warmer, the belt worked fine when I got in, but then when I was stopped at a light down by "A"s office suddenly the belt started going berserk, running back and forth on the track like it was possessed by Beezlebob. I'm sure it looked pretty bizarre from the car next to me... watching a demonic seat belt pummeling a defenseless driver into near unconsciousness.

But its really my computer I'm worried about. Its been running extremely slow and poky, so last night I looked in my e-mail filing cabinet and there were 1874 e-mails dating back to 1998. Holy fuck! I haven't been purposely saving them. I guess my computer has been secretly going all OCD on me. I mean I do save some stuff, but not almost 2000 freaking e-mails. So I spent quite a bit of time tossing stuff last night. All the stuff from my support group girls (easy). All the stuff from my case mgr. (easy). All the stuff from my friends in California (easy). Stuff from my friend G in Manhattan (not easy. Will have to look at individual things). Married Guy (just can't do it- dammit). I also have lots of stuff to "A". He stays too. I'm a pack rat. I admit it. I need a PRA group. Pack Rats Anonymous.

And then today I had quite a bit of NEW e-mail. Wow. Did I ever. It seems that while I was out grocery shopping today, I was multitasking. Somebody hacked into my E-Bay account and put like 10-12 items under my name. Wasn't that charming?? They were all big ticket items like 61" plasma TV screens, laptop computers and large expensive stereo speakers and starting the auctions at $1 with free shipping.

Were there notes from people asking me questions? Do ya think?? For instance, one genius asked, "If I bid $2 and am the highest bidder on this 61" plasma TV screen with free shipping, will it really be ONLY $2?"

"Dear Jessica Simpson:
Why yes Jessica, as a matter of fact, that's exactly true. $2 for a 61" plasma TV screen! Less than a can of Red Bull. Can you imagine? So knock yourself out, sweetie. Bid away. Love and kisses, your friend, witty."

Fortunately, E-Bay's fraud folks caught it and deleted the auctions. And I forwarded all the resulting mail to them so hopefully they can nail the idiot who's trying to make my life more difficult than it already is.

I'm just really worried about how poor, sad Jessica is going to take the news of no $2. 61" Plasma TV screen. I mean, how else is she going to watch "Dukes of Hazzard" on her cellphone, without at least some ill effects on her eyesight.

Of course, some men, DO dig chicks with glasses. I should know. Wink, wink.

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty