break up the family

i'm working on a new theory.
mostly cause i'm bored.

i am convinced that there is a difference between men who grew up with sisters and men who grew up with brothers... i think that boys with sisters can be a little weird and bitchy. they also tend to dress better than i.
hold on.
i'm checking this on google (soooooo reliable)

apparently it's called birth constellation.
but they don't discuss the "bitchy" trait in the experimental control groups.

i'm gonna do my own data analysis.
let's do a rundown on all the men i've smooched, been attracted to, etc...
or at least the ones i can remember.

add-only child (bitchy)
abb-1 bro 1 sis (bitchy)
abbb-2 brothers (bitchy)
acf- only child (bitchy)
alw- 2 bro 2 sis (bitchy)
ajb-2 sisters
artb- only child
wap- only child (bitchy)
aab- 2 brothers
ajv-only child (bitchy)
kaa- only child (bitchy)
aeh- 2 sisters
rak- 1 brother (bitchy)
amd- 2 brothers (bitchy)
dea- 1 brother (bitchy)
dwa- 2 sisters
we- 1 sister 1 brother
maw- 1 brother (bitchy)(bitchy)(bitchy)

i see no discernible pattern.
except the one where i date a lot.
and the one where i am attracted to bitchy men.

the gay guys at work have a theory on this.
the theory includes a free pass night with me.

well mom-
the only thing that i learned from this scientific experiment was published in a related article that i found on google. it supposed that mates categorize each other in the folliwing 3 paradigms of attractiveness:

#1 warmth/trustworthiness
(oh well... i can't win them all)
#2 attractiveness/vitality
(oooh! i'm making a comeback)
#3 status/resources
(maybe he won't look at my check book while i'm in the ladies room)

fuck.
my friends are right.
i gotta quit being such a bitch and get a job.

lost time

so my blog will be a year old in less than 48 hours.
it's the longest relationship i've had in the last 2 years.

there goes my gun

i bought a book that analyzes the psychology of happiness.
as if i didn't already know that my happiness lies in this moment,
in front of this computer,
in the quiet space that holds all i can not control
and hopes for not much more than the next breath.

sometimes i look at my deltoids to make me happy, too.
don't judge.

clean getaway

i have had a myspace account since ?last year? sometime because if you don't have a login, you can't look at other people's pictures that they post on their sites. you may not think this important, but you can learn a lot about a man by his pictures. so much... cats, small hands, ugly family- you get the drift.

well today- i checked my inbox (after stalking a date from last week. i needed to verify my judgement. this guys has a semi-loaded page that he checked last week. at least he's not checking it daily. pro was some seriously hot footage of him at the beach. who says women aren't visual?)

anyway-i had six pages of e-mails in my account inviting me to join some singles group- who knew i could have skipped all of this dating and spent even more time in front of the computer not having sex?

fuck myspace.

on a new note...
exciting things from the last 2 weeks:
bought a new wax kit
met my best friend's new baby and played with her old one :-)
went to mc cartys pottery in marigold, ms
had a facial
played kickball and helped to win the game
went to a bachelorette party
felt chemistry again
found my happiness in a denim skirt and white t-shirt
rolled in the clover

the girl racer

last weekend i ran the country music half marathon.
i woke up at 5 am to run 13.1 miles.
what the hell was i thinking?


mile 1
spectacular adrenaline rush

miles 2-4
painful.
the body is not interested in warming up.
things still hurt at this point.
i decided to bag it and focus on finishing.
i cursed the 3 pounds i've earned from patio drinking
and looked around for cute boys.

mile 5
good again.
things stopped hurting at this point.
endorphins are lovely.

mile 7
i got hot and threw my sports top on the sidewalk.
at this point i quit looking for cute boys because i didn't want to see any in my state of toplessness.
i want the sports top back, but someone on belmont boulevard now owns it.

mile 8
trucked along at what i believed to be a tortoise's pace.
apparently a really hot guy gave me some accelerade.
i didn't notice, but he did.
he told me this at the shell station wed night, but hasn't called yet.

mile 9
fuck, my hip muscles and feet hurt.
i promised to never run a half again.
i decided to stick to a 15K max.
i have holes in my feet right now, as i type this.
hot. super hot.

mile 10
i realized i am actually going to finish in under 2 hours as long as i don't walk.
got a permagrin because i'm faster than i think.
i thought it would take me at least 2:10 this year.

mile 12
the cheerleaders at my school screamed at me with joy as i cussed under my breath.
well, maybe not so under my breath- that hill was the worst thing ever.
seriously.
ever.

and i finished.
proceeded to a mexican restaurant.
took 2 hydrocodones.
ate monster quesadillas.
drank a margarita.
ate a pint of ice cream and a nutty buddy.
took a nap.
went to a wedding.
ate TONS of wedding food (2 pieces of cake in there somewhere)
drank 9 vodka sodas.
ate at waffle house.
went to bed at 2am.

my training regimen for this half marathon put me at a 8 min 50 sec mile.
my training regimen was to run 16-20 miles a week.
and consume copious amounts of alcohol as a rite of spring.
that's it.
i've decided that i'm done.
being a weak-ass that is.
it's on.

im committing.
the memphis is going down in 1:40 instead of 1:56.
i'm going to the track.
i'm doing fartleks.
sleeping with some ugly track guy for training advice.
whatever.
if i'm going to be blogging on friday nights, i at least need to be fast.