Rifling through the stack of mail when I got home yesterday evening, I found a letter that started off with, "Dear Single..."
It was one of those matchmaking service.
"Do you feel lonely?" the ad asked. "Do you wish you could be like other people and have someone in your life to share those special moments with?"
Just little slaps in the face, you know?
I felt like Carrie in that episode where she turns 35 and has the worst birthday imaginable.
She also gets an ad for a matchmaking service that addresses her as "Dear Single."
She fumes over how, because she's single, she seemingly doesn't deserve to be addressed by her name.
That's sort of how I felt, too --- though, to be fair, if they had put my name on the letter, I would have felt worse. I mean, is there something stamped on my forehead that cries out, "Single"?
I instantly had an image of myself walking down the streets of downtown Toronto wearing a sandwich board that read: Single and Lonely. Please Date Me.
Woke up in a crabby mood --- not because of the "Dear Single" letter (because in all truth, I do think that I've finally begun to stop thinking so much about my single status and the fact that I have nobody in my life to share those special and unspecial moments with...I'd rather dwell on the fact that I have nobody in my life right now to annoy me and hog the covers and suck the joy out of me), but because my dear friend PMS had shown up in full raging force.
There's this guy at work who gets on my every last fucking nerve.
Other women tolerate him 'cause they think he's got this cute, charming manner to him.
I just find him real fucking annoying.
Like when he swung by my desk and pushed the papers I was looking at away from me and "joked", "Oh, right. You're 'working', huh?"
Oh my God, I just wanted to stab him in the eye with my pen. Actually, no. I wanted to find two pens and stick them in each eye.
Because I was in such a sulky mood, I ate all of the Halloween candy at my desk without really thinking. Just tore each wrapper off and shoved them one-by-one into my mouth, trying to eat myself into oblivion.
I've gained weight --- and it bugs me that people go, "Pfft. Whatever. You're still so skinny. What are you now? A size 1?"
That's not the point. I'm just making an observation that I've gained weight...and if it did bother me that I was a size 1, what does it matter to them?
It's not like I'm going to become anorexic or bullemic.
God, I hate being at work today.
At one point, I just wanted to shove my chair back, put on my jacket and just walk out of there.
I actually thought (in a very Rochelle-like moment...and if you don't know who Rochelle is, then you don't watch Everybody Hates Chris): I don't need this! My man's got two jobs.
But the thing is, I don't have a man, nevermind one with two jobs.
I think I'd be bored sitting around at home, too.
Ow. Ow. Ow.
I think I have a cavity.
It was one of those matchmaking service.
"Do you feel lonely?" the ad asked. "Do you wish you could be like other people and have someone in your life to share those special moments with?"
Just little slaps in the face, you know?
I felt like Carrie in that episode where she turns 35 and has the worst birthday imaginable.
She also gets an ad for a matchmaking service that addresses her as "Dear Single."
She fumes over how, because she's single, she seemingly doesn't deserve to be addressed by her name.
That's sort of how I felt, too --- though, to be fair, if they had put my name on the letter, I would have felt worse. I mean, is there something stamped on my forehead that cries out, "Single"?
I instantly had an image of myself walking down the streets of downtown Toronto wearing a sandwich board that read: Single and Lonely. Please Date Me.
Woke up in a crabby mood --- not because of the "Dear Single" letter (because in all truth, I do think that I've finally begun to stop thinking so much about my single status and the fact that I have nobody in my life to share those special and unspecial moments with...I'd rather dwell on the fact that I have nobody in my life right now to annoy me and hog the covers and suck the joy out of me), but because my dear friend PMS had shown up in full raging force.
There's this guy at work who gets on my every last fucking nerve.
Other women tolerate him 'cause they think he's got this cute, charming manner to him.
I just find him real fucking annoying.
Like when he swung by my desk and pushed the papers I was looking at away from me and "joked", "Oh, right. You're 'working', huh?"
Oh my God, I just wanted to stab him in the eye with my pen. Actually, no. I wanted to find two pens and stick them in each eye.
Because I was in such a sulky mood, I ate all of the Halloween candy at my desk without really thinking. Just tore each wrapper off and shoved them one-by-one into my mouth, trying to eat myself into oblivion.
I've gained weight --- and it bugs me that people go, "Pfft. Whatever. You're still so skinny. What are you now? A size 1?"
That's not the point. I'm just making an observation that I've gained weight...and if it did bother me that I was a size 1, what does it matter to them?
It's not like I'm going to become anorexic or bullemic.
God, I hate being at work today.
At one point, I just wanted to shove my chair back, put on my jacket and just walk out of there.
I actually thought (in a very Rochelle-like moment...and if you don't know who Rochelle is, then you don't watch Everybody Hates Chris): I don't need this! My man's got two jobs.
But the thing is, I don't have a man, nevermind one with two jobs.
I think I'd be bored sitting around at home, too.
Ow. Ow. Ow.
I think I have a cavity.
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