People ask me what I want in a fella. I mean, these people are paid professionals and under my employ, but they ask (not a lot of boat rocking in this economy). People tell me I should write more and wear more shirts that show my mid rift. I like to own people, it makes me feel skinny. So when describing my dream boat, let's just say I get motion sickness... which is why he better be sedentary. It helps if he's bogged down with salty snacks. Extra weight makes it extra hard for him to run away or feel good about himself (hot tip ladies, you look way better to fat guys). Another big thing is occupation and when I hear "employed" I think "boring"! Jobs are for goal- oriented people and trust me, you can't run a man with ambition. Oh sure, he can want things, just as long as he doesn't pose a threat at advancing in life. I mean, if he advanced what would I look like? No one would ask themselves "what does she see in him?" and with out that question how could I maintain the benevolent notoriety that is so crucial for any woman to be considered truly beautiful? The best part of this paragraph is when I talk about employing people.
sigh.
I was getting frozen yogurt tonight and the young man working the sweet shop informed me that they only have one size. I asked for him to fill it at three quarters (can't live in stretch pants). As I asked this a tall, thin, female worker walked by, heard my request and rolled her eyes. I immediately jumped behind the counter, shoved her frail head into a tub of ice cream and screamed "I'M SORRY! DOES MY PORTION CONTROL BOTHER YOU?". She wriggled, but her vapid body collapsed under my strong arms (thanks Yoga!). To my defense I was only trying to freeze her sassy eye balls out of her emaciated face when, suddenly, I was snapped out of my lucid daydreaming to the male worker saying "...that will be $4.50, not a lot when you consider we serve our yogurt with love!". I slowly backed out the door yelling "YOU DON'T KNOW ABOUT LOVE! NOT YOU, NOT MY FATHER, NOT THE BANK THAT DENIED MY LOAN..." and with that I walked out feeling pretty good, but then I went back to fetch my purse off the counter. I ended up leaving with my head held high. I didn't eat that frozen treat after all and this means I'm going to be all the thinner when I see my sweet fella in just a couple weeks. He's been "looking" for a job and smoking lots of pot (who loves snacks?), so I'm sure to be pretty physically appealing. Turns out the Secret isn't a bunch of bull-shit after all. Thanks Oprah!
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