Murder Me Not

Seeing all these beautiful strangers on Facebook with their beautiful pictures helps me to see why people kill.
"When I see her, Audrey doesn't even acknowledge me, but I swear she's looking right at me in her pictures... she knows I love that blouse! I will MAKE her watch a movie with me!"



Sometimes, I think that people want to murder me, but I am too smart and slick. I use coconut oil on my skin so bad guys can't keep a grip and good guys can't get enough. I will tell you when the latter happens... thus far, it has only attracted young, Jimmy Buffet types. [insert "penis"colada pun]

Also, I'm too damn smart. Most murder victims are straight dummies.



Sometimes, I wish someone would just try and bring me bodily harm (rape joke) so I could go all Crouching Tiger and shit. I have never taken martial arts, but I am very intuitive and flexible.

Maybe I shouldn't say that I spend energy getting into imaginary fights with three big muthah fuckahs... and I really wont say that all the people who, I feel, have ever slighted me are there to witness it (ALL OF THEM). Brings up too many plot holes for my pragmatic mind (even my naughty fantasies are about catching my bus on time and not being bothered at all- bother just gets in the way [insert pic of vag and audio clip of dried leaves being crushed under the weight of a firm step]).

BACK TO GAPS IN PLOT:

What are they all doing there? Why am I wearing head-to-toe black latex? Am I married yet?

I am reasonable and so I will reason that:

a) they all follow my success and simultaneously came around to win favor.

b) I was at a photo shoot.

c) a lot.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. If you are a prospective employer, I encourage you to recognize that my tongue is so embedded in my cheek that I can't even talk anymore- just type... so send me any further questions via e mail.

Regards,
Abbey

Oh, Alright Cupid... Get In Here!

My dear friend has been going on so many internet dates, I don't have anyone to hang out with anymore. Such thing there isn't a lot we don't share, I started a page on the same site. If I go on dates, I'll just talk about her experiences in life, all while wearing her socks, jacket and back pack... like I don't do or have anything of my own. It's either that or talk about my ex.

My internet dates will ask me about what I like to do and I will say "Rachel speaks Spanish."

Here is the difference between Rachel and I; She is doing things with her life that will help low income people and I want to meet some one who has money. It's not so much that I want to meet someone who has money, as I don't want to do anything for the poor. My ex doesn't have any money and all I've wanted to do are things for him, to help him realize his own potential and feel good about who he is... then he can get it together enough to realize that we would be so happy together in San Francisco. However, my efforts were squandered and now I just end up yelling at homeless people because he isn't around anymore.

HOMELESS GUY: Spare some change, Miss?

ME: [screaming] I can miss you, but I can't change you! [sobs into scarf]

HOMELESS GUY: [to himself] It's a numbers game, Pete.

It's a numbers game... dating and consequently (for me), loving. It's like Scientology invented romance and while everyone else is getting on that space ship of love, I'm locked in limbo with Captain Xenu. So I have decided to surf the international house of hot cakes AKA "OKcupid"....

SIDE RANT:

"OKcupid" is the name of the internet dating site I joined with my friend and I think their ad campaign should go something like this:
"OKcupid- you fix it!"
"OKcupid, what's the deal?!"
"OKcupid, your arrow better be dipped in something fierce, because I have developed a tolerance [the chorus line to Robert Palmer's "Addicted to Love" plays in background]"
"Oh- Okcupid, like some cherub is going to crawl inside of this shriveling uterus and give me a legacy."

END SCENE.

I created my account, answered some questions and went over to Rachel's a day later. She has been going on so many dates lately, she called in sick (to her date), so she could hang out with her favorite person: sweat pants. I came over too. She and I pulled up our accounts and went shopping (our favorite!), but because we are both pretty broke we went shopping for men (shoes wont put a baby in this barren wasteland 5 years from now). Her quick match brought up all sorts of dark, beautiful men, albiet a bit young for my taste. My quick match brought up HUNDREDS of dorky, ugly men. One guy (ironically, the most attractive of my entire brigade) called himself "Atractus" and when I quipped "more like UNatractus" Rachel and I laughed so hard, we realized we don't need men. Besides I can't ask a date to wax my ass crack and Rachel is more than down (pun?).
The reason she is getting more viable hits than me is because she has beautiful hair and isn't a gold digger. I'm not a gold digger, I'm just not open minded. I think, ultimately, I prefer that kinetic spark of seeing someone in a coffee shop, yoga or through their car window as he speeds by and thinking "what if?". What if I see him again? What if he asks me out? What if he turns around? What if I get mugged in front of him and I end up laying out 3 bad guys while he films it so he can tag me on Facebook later?

Soul Mates.