Don't Go Chasing Waterfalls

It's official.  I have tired of analyzing "Buzz" as he shall be called from now on.  Come on, it's a four-letter boy name.  Aren't they all interchangeable?  Matt, Mark, Mike, Sean, John, Josh, Jeff, Joel, Jack, Brad...same difference.  I am writing him off by telling myself he was either only looking for a hook up or he has the dating IQ of a twelve year old - the answer is probably a combination of both.  The way I see it, I already have one pussy and it's fabulous, I don't need another.

Repeating this title over and over to myself.

My house certainly tells the story of last night.  Like Mrs. Havisham from Great Expectations, it was as though time (and my efforts to clean before Buzz's arrival) stopped once I got that gutless text.  My slip-covers are clean but not back on the couches, the kitchen counters are clean but the floor is in dire need of a wet swiffer, and my bedroom is still showcasing a few dust bunnies as well as my childhood stuffed animal.  The good news is, I didn't stop all of the clocks at 5:31 and I'm not sitting around in a wedding dress.

On the subject of weddings, I was on the phone with my beloved cousin, M, this evening.  I told her I loved her wedding dress and how instead of being magnanimous as usual and donating it, she should just have kept it for me to wear someday, duh.  Her response:  "It would be a shame to waste an ass like yours in an A-line dress."  Yes - yes it would be.

So here's to form-fitting mermaid wedding gowns, men with emotional intelligence, and fabulous friends who always seem to know precisely what to say.

Cheers