She catches a clue...

All right; it's reality check time. This just dawned on me.

In the grand spirit of being brutally honest--with myself about myself, if no one else (I would sooner die than tell Miss Stinkypants that she's obnoxious, for instance)--I am forced to admit that I would have a lot less time to grumble about, or even consider, what she's doing if I were getting laid on a regular basis. There; that's blunt. Maybe that's why some people just annoy the hell out of me, whereas if others are finding them annoying too, they're sure hiding it well. Or maybe they just don't give a damn, because they're involved enough with their own personal lives to just not give it that much weight.


I think I've figured it out. I need to get a freaking life. Well, one that doesn't revolve only around work, school, and all the people who rely on me for everything. I need to quit the one job that I hate anyway, tell my mom to take responsibility for herself, tell my son-friend he's on his own, catch up on sleep for a week or two, and then go to like, a bar or something, and pick someone up. I mean, I've thought about it. No, really--I have. I'm so out of the loop on this boyfriend-getting thing that as far as a plan, that's the best I can do. I figure I could totally quit Eviljob, cast everyone off to fend for themselves, and, well...where do people go to pick up people? Well, I mean besides dumbass things like speed dating and all; it takes me more than five minutes to figure out where I am most of the time--I couldn't evaluate someone else in that time. So where would work? Bars, I figure. And maybe I'd have better luck if I picked someone up, instead of the other way around; that other way hasn't worked very well in the past.


Ok...I'm finding this funny. I don't even really drink all that much. Plus, I have really bad taste and/or luck when it comes to men. I mean _really_ bad. Like being a server, I could tell you horror stories. And I'd be too concerned that whomever I might meet in a place like that would be a career alcoholic, dysfunctional beyond salvation, or inclined to punch me to emphasize key points when they speak. Plus, I'd have to talk to them, and I'd probably screw that up. So I can't really. And I can't cast off my damn tribe. I'd be too worried about them to do anything else. And I can't quit Eviljob; the tribe and I need the money. So I can't. Ok--bars are out, quitting is out, casting-off is out. Out, out, out.


Next plan: I'm going to walk right up to Mr Really Cute Guy in my class, and ask him out. I'll let him know that, because of Job1, Eviljob, the tribe, and more schoolwork than you could shake a stick at, I'm limited to only going out on Thursday evenings between six and eleven p.m., some Wednesday evenings, and maybe Saturdays after work, but only for an hour or two because I have to work all day Sunday, and only if I'm caught up on everything for that coming Monday. Maybe I should write this all down, so I'm ready. And while I'm fumbling through that, I might as well allow a few minutes to start talking on autopilot so that I can throw in something monumentally stupid and embarrassing like how beautiful his eyes are, so that he's left with the impression that I'm a raving psychotic stalker moron. I mean, who wouldn't want to wade through twenty million "ummms" to hear a half-coherent compliment? After that, I probably should pencil in a couple of minutes for tripping over something, slamming my hand in a door, or dropping my books on my foot. You know--casual demonstrations of my physical prowess. And, to make sure I'm memorable (Cosmo says to make sure you're memorable!), I could maybe finish off with six- to ten-million "please", "ummm", "I just love the way you ___ (insert something profound, like "write with a pencil")", etc... If I plan it right, I might be able to do it in front of everyone in class--so that he has the pressure on him to be social and say ok, of course.

Or maybe that's not a good idea, either; it might not go off as smoothly as I've planned.

Ok, so at least I have an insight into why some things that shouldn't bother me do, or moreover, maybe why I'm peevable and not all that happy sometimes. Not that I can really do anything about it. But...well...insight is good, isn't it? Sure it is. Yay, insight.