It is not raining men.

My goal for this evening is to not do anything productive.  The problem is I took a special little pill that wants me to do the exact opposite.  Here I sit dangerously enthralled in Dateline, on a Friday night, working on my blog.  Forgive me if this is a little forward, but I just may be the coolest twenty-five year old ever to walk the face of the earth.  Who knows?  Next weekend I may be playing World of Warcraft or at Audobon Park participating in role playing games.  Maybe I'll meet a boyfriend there... ah... a girl can dream.

Speaking of finding a boyfriend, I'm going to tell you something that is hilariously embarrassing.  Names, times and places of this event have been changed in order to keep the other guilty party safe from any humiliation - after all, I started a blog with all intentions of mocking myself... she just likes to read it.  Here we go:


Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, my friend Topanga and I were spending another weekend night with Dateline and a bottle of wine.  Topanga had cooked a turkey or a chicken or wherever you get wishbones from and set the periosteum-ic gem aside.  T and I were chillaxin in the kitchen while she made a delish dinner.  T showed me the wishbone and asked if I wanted to make a wish.  This immediately catapulted me to back in the day when my parents would let me and my siblings have a no holds barred battle royale in the kitchen to see who the lucky two chillrens would be.  Thrilled that I would not be forced to knuckle punch anyone in the throat to play this game, I gladly took hold of my end of the wishbone.  Topanga and I closed our eyes and made ours wishes just like we were 8 year old girls.  Once we opened our eyes again, we pulled the feeble bone apart.  We are both trying to use our telekinetic powers to get the "long side" when the little thing in the middle snaps off both of our ends and lands on the floor.  It felt like it happened in slow motion and the little piece of bone that landed on the floor may have caused an earthquake in China.  T and I looked at each other for a second before she breaks the silence and says, "I bet I know what your wish was."  Of course she did, because she had wished for the exact same thing.  What was it, you ask?  The same thing we wished for when we were 8 years old.  To get a boyfriend.  Apparently the universe is against us getting boyfriends, too.  Probably because we put our hopes of landing boyfriends in the hands of a wishbone.  Or maybe we don't have boyfriends because I used the term chillaxing.  The world may never know.  S.H.A.M.E.

Tomorrow I am headed to the happiest, most backward place on Earth: Iuka, Mississippi.  This glorious little piece of heaven is right outside Corinth.  It's where cell service is scarce, wi-fi is a joke, Piggly Wiggly is the local hang out and the entire town shuts down on Sundays.  Except Wal-Mart and Jacks of course... and rest assured everyone at both of those establishments is decked out in their Sunday best.  Every time I drive into Iuka I can literally feel the time warp back to the 1960s.  I was planning on teaching myself to cook this weekend... looks like that won't be happening.  Unless Leslie is willing to teach me.  Bless her heart if she does...


I suppose that's it for my first week of blogging.  I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have.  Tell your neighbors.  Tell your friends.  But, please, don't tell anyone in my family.  Happy weekend.


Now.  Dance party. It's Raining Men. Go.


smooches.