The Rumor

Need I make some witty remark about how I took a three month break from blogging? No. But I will. I realized I kept having all these moments where I would think, "I need to use THIS for my blog," but after walking around campus all day trying to figure out where all the girl's pants went, (seriously have you seen these girls wearing only shirts and tights? it is called a dress hunny, Hanes cotton tees are t-shirts, just because your ass is covered in bright purple lycra doesn't mean there shouldn't be some other layer of fabric shielding me from your ass crack) and then babysitting ten or so 20 year olds at work, blogging became an activity only for kids that had mommy and daddy's wallets in their clutches.
So what else have I been up to besides staring at bright colored asses and coddling 27 year old servers because they got another bad tip? There is a point in every woman's life where friends feel the need to intervene in their single friend's life and "assist" them in finding Mr. Right. Usually this occurs around mid 30's. To a woman that gained the freshman 15 five times already and prefers staying at home with her four cats instead of going to another bar as the third wheel. However, I am 22. The person that set me up started a rumor six months earlier that I made out with a manager in our office at work. The prey was a cop. I mean really? Apparently I believed that by being set up now, I could avoid cat lady syndrome in the future (which is quite depressing considering I am allergic to my future housemates). After a couple dates, various texts, and phone calls, I question the man about his return from a trip home to visit family. All I request is that we make plans when he arrives home. He readily agrees and apologizes for being so busy before his trip. It is five weeks later. That must be one big family he had to visit.
Final Words: Every time I drink a bottle of wine I get really down on myself and eat way too much. This has become an emotional nightmare. I guess I should start drinking two.