hooverville

my friends are trying to set me up. i am breaking down.

of course i often comment on how much i would like to be in love...but that doesn't mean i want to talk to a boy!!!!! boyz r scary and smell like mcdonalds wrappers.

to lure me towards love, my anonymous friend has done the following:
-send 2 far away pictures of potential suitor riding a giant tricycle.
-investigate his hobbies aka ju jitsu
-take screen shot of his dog (this really is the only info i need)
-"accidentally" find his salary listed online

besides the fact that i can't see his face in the far away tricycle pictures, i'd consider my friend a genuine herbert hoover. i feel like i know everything i need to know that he and i are a perfect match!

its funny to write about boys and being chubby and things like that because they're my insecurities, and somewhere in my weird brain, bringing them out into the open range and being the first one to make fun of the situations will prevent any sort of embarrassment. unfortunately, my brain must be controlled by some mean geek squad team member, as i can't seem to choose which thoughts and words stream in and out. i shouldn't make fun of myself so much, but somewhere up there there is a man named todd with a pet tarantula crossing the red wires with the green ones. there are lots of job postings for geek squad team members, so i'm pretty sure i'm not the only one with an unwanted techie living upstairs.

because i am a sport, i've crafted a master plan. i'll meet this professor man, make fun of myself and then ask him which disney character i remind him of. when he says something i don't like, i'll use it as an excuse to excuse myself from possible rejection. or i will stuff him in my trunk and steal his dog. whatever happens, happens.

this whole thing has sounded like a terribly depressing and pathetic AIM away message circa 2001. my goal is to make things equal parts funny and vulnerable...but i've never been good at math.