My Experimental Phase

On of my swell efriends has told me that I need to write stuff like this on my own blog.

In my defense, I don't really give advice. One, it's all I can do drag myself to work and home on a given day. If I have to go to the dry cleaners and the bank on the same day, it's like I've run a marathon. I'd have made a shitty pioneer.

Two, I don't really know anything about anything. Oh, I'm a wealth of useless information like bauxite was the major export of Jamaica and is used in the production of aluminum and Willie Hernandez won both the Cy Young and MVP Award in 1984 and the only song Elvis ever wrote was Viva Las Vegas. But for practical, fix my problem kind of advice, I'm pretty worthless.

Third, I don't consider myself wise. Sure, every now and then I have a flash of insight. But it never has any application. Stuff like: If fat and slim are opposites, why do fat chance and slim chance mean the same thing? Mildly amusing, yes. Insightful, no. Yes, I kind of understand how men think because I'm one of them. And I'm smart enough to know that there are certain things about women I'll never understand. But while I don't understand the fascination with shoes and sparkly jewelry, I do know how to use it to my advantage.

So when I read that someone was drunk enough to used eHarmony to wind up feeling rejected, it's time for an intervention. Just like friends don't let friends drink white zinfandel, I'm going to be part of the solution.

So it begins.....tomorrow bitches.