Still Waiting

I am sad to say that I have yet to be repaired. I tried a little brute force on the door upstairs but it landed me nowhere but in a bath soaking a sore shoulder.

I hate to say it but I'm afraid that my knight/mechanic may have taken a wrong turn somwhere...for all I know, he could be halfway to Ft. Lauterdale by now.

Shit.

I'm screwed.

By the by. Here is last week's review. It's not much to look at because I fell asleep the day I was supposed to write it and therefore I had to make up something on the fly during my lunch hour so I wouldn't miss my deadline. Try not to give me too much grief.

Movie Review

Prison Break

My 200th post. Amazing.

Have I really had that much to say?

"Maybe too much," some grumble.

*Sigh* Ironic, considering that I've inexplicably found myself at a loss for words.

I thought and thought all day. I saw ideas laying in the floor and I kicked them around a little...watched them scatter and spin. Waited to see which ones would land face up for good luck...but instead they rolled under the couch...out the door...behind the fridge...all out of reach.

Figures.

Sometimes I think, if it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all.

Where is a knight in shining armour when you need him? Or maybe I should say a well stocked Handyman with a big can of WD-40.

I need something to wrench open this rusty door in my head and free the inspiration held captive within.

Anyone know a good mechanic?

Flag On The Play

Last night I listened as one girl painfully recounted her break up story to friends. She scrubbed at her eyes as she fought to choke out the words in-between sobs. It was impossible not to feel compassion at her pain. At least until I actually heard her utter the words, "No, don't say that. I wish him all the happiness in the world. No really. I do. I hope he and this new girlfriend are very happy together."

That's it.

Time out.

*Blowing Whistle*

Flag on the play.

I'm calling BS.

Never have I ever looked at a boyfriend who had just dumped me and said, "I hope you have a really great life." Let's be realistic about this. The more appropriate response would be, "I hope you get hit by a Mack Truck."

Not that we really wish him physical harm (depends...a little broken leg never killed anyone right?). But we certainly don't wish him well. Especially with some other girl/slut.

Face it, when you've just had your heart broken, the very last thing you're concerned with is the asshole's wellness. The truth comes to this...what we really wish is that he gets fat, that he goes bald, that he gets 30 speeding tickets, that he comes down with an extra terrible case of the flu, that he sits home miserable and alone everynight, that his new ho leaves him for someone else, and most of all...we squeeze our eyes shut tight make a wish that he will forever regret the day he let us go.

Now that my friends is the truth.

Really?

One of my very favorite things about the holidays are actually the day after the holiday...you know, when all the holiday candy is 50% and 75% off. Believe you me, I stocked up on the marshmellow peeps during today's shopping trip.

Mmmmm. Peeps and all their sugary goodness.

See, I like to think of myself as an equal opportunity peeps eater...I do not discriminate between the marshmellow chics and the marshmellow bunnies. All peeps are welcome in my tummy.

Listen to me...rambling about my candy cravings. Ignore me.

Speaking of ignoring me (since no one ever reads this blasted blog anyway). :0) Has anyone ever googled their blog title to see what it turns up? I got bored this morning and had a go at it. It turned out to be quite interesting actually. Aside from reading that a spinster is a "rather sad, lonely woman left unfulfilled by life." That actually made me laugh out loud. Who writes this shit?

In my little search, I discovered that I am linked on the blogs of many people who have never actually left comments on my blog. They're like my silent readers...it's just that without comments you never know what a person thinks of your work but then again, I suppose the link is a comment and compliment in itself...so thank you. My only concern arose from perusing one blog to find that her description of my blog said, "Spinster War Diaries: Probably me in 10 years." Yikes. I hope she knows that I am not a bad person to be...being single can be a lot of fun...but it just has it's lows like anything else. Fear not young reader...you'll not be a spinster.

Update:
For those of you checking out your blogs...also go to Blogshares.com and you will find the damndest information on your own site. Just type in the blog title in the search box right above the log in box (at the tab next to it you will have to indicate if you are searching by title or url.) When it pulls up a list of blogs with that titile, you merely click on the link that has YOUR URL. It lists the links of people visiting your blog and even tells you how much your blog is worth...mine at the moment is worth $45,039 and apparently the stock is rising and has great room for growth. Go figure....if this were reality...I'd definetly want my cut. :o)

Walking the Line

I'm feeling so lazy today...and tired and unmotivated and slack. Yeah, slack, I think that about sums it up.

I must apologize for being a terrible blogger lately...not writing decent posts, not visiting everyone like I should. I mean well. Promise.

But what is it they say?

...The road to hell is paved with good intentions...

Hmmm. Well, if that's the case, I guarantee that I've paved a good 30 miles.

Smoke and Mirrors

You can spend months, years even...longing for someone. Hoping for a phone call...a letter... a passing glimpse...

But the phone never rings, the postman shakes his head when he sees your hopeful face and your someone seems to have suddenly vanished into thin air.

The real irony of the situation is that when you finally get to a point in your life when you're ready to move on and close that chapter forever...you suddenly find yourself besieged with real life ghosts of the past...pulling pages out of your book and laying them out in front of you, forcing your past into your present.

It really makes me wonder...was it all coincidence or was it a well orchestrated plan? Think about it...men seem to have been born with an innate ability to sense the exact moment you have finished taping the pieces of your broken heart back together. As soon as they feel you starting to move on, they pick that exact moment to pull a Houdini and miraculously reappear in your life.

At some point you have to ask yourself, "Did he ever really give a damn or was it just a bunch of smoke and mirrors?"

The Inevitables

An 'Inevitable' is one ex in your life that no matter what, you always seem to find yourself being drawn back to.

It's an inevitable fact. You can be apart for years at a time, date other people, move away...and yet, without fail...you end up finding each other again. It's almost like we have these super powerful magnets implanted somewhere that keep pulling us together instead of pushing us apart. You can only run so far in the other direction before you run out of strength and the magnetic pull whizzes you backwards to it's other half.

The downside is that in the end, no matter how many times you find each other... you always end up wandering alone again.

Don't They Know?

I wonder if they had secret classes that taught guys from a young age how to approach women.

Think about it, in elementary school when they had the sex ed class they always seperated the boys from the girls. I'll bet that while we had to watch animated videos about how are bodies work, they were secretly learning the art of pick up lines.

If this is indeed the case, for the sake of women everywhere, I think I need to have a stern talking to with these so called teachers because on Saturday night, their students were failing miserably.

It shouldn't have to be said. It really shouldn't. But since it seemed like such a foriegn concept to the men last night...I'll go ahead and explain. Shouting phrases such as "You have a nice ass" and "Your tits look great in that top" to passing women, WILL NOT GET YOU LAID.

Do they honestly think that the reaction they'll get from me when shouting out that I have a "nice rack" will be a gleeful smile and a, "Thank you Sir. Would you like to touch them...they're real?"

Not in this lifetime.

Review Time

Hey guys...don't have much time today but I wanted to make sure to post this week's review though I wish I could pretend that I never had to see this particular movie. So much for trying to mak Atlanta shine....

Also had my first experience with an Editor cutting out some of my lines. Ugh. I know she did it because the copy space was smaller than normal but it still felt like someone ripped off a band aid. It was quick but painful....but gotta get used to it.

For those of you who were curious the last line basically said something about how I'd seen after school specials that were just as informative and far more entertaining.

Movie Review

The Answer

Although I would like to believe that it doesn't bother me and I don't care...it wouldn't be the truth. The truth is that I almost expected news...welcomed or not. But no...nothing. As far as I know, the letter is most likely residing at the bottom of a trash bin with only candy wrappers for company. It's a shame...it was a good letter.

*Sigh*

Time to stop pacing the floors...I've gotten my answer.

With a deep breath I calmly remove the tattered bookmark saving my place in that chapter...

I think it's time to turn the page...

(My girls and I are going out for beer.)

Not Asking For Much...

When women get dumped I think we go through all the normal stages of loss; denial, anger and grief...but before acceptance, there is one other unspoken stage...

Revenge.

But NOT in a creepy stalker type way...more like a 'make him eat his words' way.

Let's face it, the best way to get back at the asshole for dumping you is to come up with a way make him wish he had never let you go...then give him the brush off. How is this achieved?

Some women, if able, take the 'make him jealous' route. This involves upgrading to a new super hot boyfriend that has no problem with PDA, especially at the same party/event that the ex happens to be attending. Oops.

The more common route is to kill him with sexiness. This is when we take all the anger, all the bitterness and all the frustration of the break-up and we throw it into hitting the gym. That way, the next time he see us, we are looking so smokin' hot...all he'll be able to think about is how he can invite himself over. No sweeter satisfaction can be had than having your exboyfriend try to pick you up, only to turn him down flat and then confident as you please... glide away, leaving him to watch your backside sway off into the sunset.

Cue music, "I don't think you're ready for this, my body's too booty-licious for you babe."