formspring.me

Um, did I break the formspring magic answer portal with my "innocent" airport make-out question? Oh, and is that a "no" then?

YOU.

It did not break the portal. I carry with me the dark, possibly false hope that, someday, someone will ask me out on here and then actually follow it up with an actual identity (there's been a rash of anonymity lately, and it reminds me of that lovely time in 7th grade when someone would call you up and go, "Someone likes you!" and then hang up. It was like the junior high phone equivalent of a dick tease...only sadder, and with no foreplay).

But YOU.

You should have known better, sir. After all the time we spent together, after becoming so well-acquainted with my Judgment Face. And WHY do I have to tell people what they have to do to "get" me to do something? It's like the other ones - no, it's okay, you just sit back and let *me* figure out the place, tell you the time, give you detailed directions, and then *I'll* stand there and wait while you decide whether or not you want to leave your friends party to follow up your query on what it would take to slow dance/make out with me. Because that...that is just the type of scenario I've been staying single for so long for.

And isn't the entire definition of romance that YOU think of these things? I HAVE DONE ENOUGH. I have orchestrated enough romantic, passionate, windswept moments to earn me the right to sit back in my recliner/wheelchair for the next 70 years while YOU break your back trying to knock someone out. I'm fucking DONE. And when I did all of this, I didn't ask that person to give me an outline of what they wanted me to do?! I went out and fucking figured it out! If someone wants to know what it would take to get me to make out with them in an airport, then they should be okay with the fact that it means that they now get to go through all the fun of trying.

I'm not helping anyone out anymore. Fuck you guys. YOU benefit more from marriage than *I* do, but yet I'M the one who's supposed to work hard to land one of you?! Awesome. I'll take time away from my career, relationships, and personal endeavors and get right on that.

The End.

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What's your favorite kind of cupcake?

I've tried to answer this question about 5 times now, and each time formspring keeps kicking me off. Therefore, I think it's plain that there's a conspiracy regarding me and letting the world know how much I love cupcakes.

If we're talking about homemade cupcakes, then I have to say that Pillsbury Funfetti are my favorite.

If we're in New York and you're like, "Amber, I would really love to buy you a billion cupcakes of every kind", then I would take you to the Magnolia Bakery, where there are no bad cupcakes, only bad people.

If we're in Minneapolis and you're too lazy to bake me some, then I would direct you to Kowalski's for their huge cupcakes with filling injected into the middle of them. I went to a wedding where they had those cupcakes in lieu of a cake, and it was fantastic. I also got laid that night, so you can imagine how magical I still consider that wedding to be.

Mostly for the cupcakes, though.

So basically, it's frosting and cake. How could you go wrong?

Unless it's LEMON. GROOOOOOSSSSSSS.

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Favorite part of the Twin Cities?

My favorite part of the Twin Cities, hands down, is Lake of Isles. I feel incredibly lucky to live in this neighborhood. I love walking around the Lake of the Isles, and every day and night when I walk out of my house and see the view from my street, I think, "Fuck New York! Minneapolis fucking ROCKS."

Those exact words, every time.

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Your pet peeves in life?

When people talk about how weird Lady GaGa's outfits are, as if they have no idea that that's the whole point.

When men ask you out on a date and then expect that you're going to come up with a plan for it.

When people touch my stuff.

When people equate honesty with negativity.

When people ask me about what I'm eating. I can't explain it. When I'm eating lunch and someone comes in, looks down at my food, and goes, "Wow, that looks good, what's in that?!", it drives me FREAKING crazy.

People who think that because they're "non-confrontational", it automatically gives them a pass for being a coward.

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Favorite TV show?

My favorite TV show, hands down, has to be The Office. I honestly get giddy when I hear the intro music. A close second would be a tie between South Park and The Daily Show.

I like comedies. Sue me.

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If you're moving to MPLS and looking for an "authentic neighborhood", you should probably just go get fucked.

This statement was made last night while at Anchor Fish & Chips with a one James Larkin. First, we were discussing the various reviews we had read concerning Anchor, and I was making fun of one I had recently read that went like this -

"Picture this: a fresh fillet of flakey cod dunked in an airy batter and deep fried to a perfect, bubbly, golden brown crisp. Then picture this: bluntly cut slabs of gloriously greasy fried potatoes doused in such delights as malt vinegar, curry sauce or a thick, savory gravy..."

So the fries are good then, right? That's what you're trying to tell me?

And then we got to talking about Northeast (since that's where Anchor is located). I like Northeast. My favorite part about it is the very fact that most of the bars there remind me of the bars in my former home of Wisconsin - comfortable, fun, easy (some are fond of calling them "townie" or "dive" bars, as if they are deigning to grace the establishments with their presence, which is exactly why I will often refuse to call any bar by that name. It just sounds incredibly snotty). However, for the past four years, I've run across a particular internet persona - usually named "Northeaster" - who loooves to comment on any article about neighborhood development with the same disdainful pretension. They obviously live in Northeast (I don't know if you got that from their screen name) and are fond of reminding everyone to death that Northeast is really the only "authentic neighborhood" left in Minneapolis, and all the other neighborhoods are just "consumer Disneylands who are fooling themselves if they think they have any personality or authenticity."

And that was what my statement was in response to. I am glad that this person is proud of their neighborhood. However, I don't understand what their baseline is when it comes to an "authentic neighborhood." Old houses? Check. The ability to walk to the grocery store? Check. Knowing your neighbors? Reluctant check (I know my neighbors, but mostly because the wife is crazy and the husband is kind of a peeping tom). Accessibility to drinking establishments and entertainment? Check check. Pretty sure that almost every neighborhood in Minneapolis, with the exception of some neighborhoods in North, could check off this list. And all of this is besides the point. I don't know you guys have noticed this, but Minneapolis is a city. Thus, I don't really understand the people who move here and expect that their neighborhoods take on the look and shape of a small town. You don't want to move to a small town because then you would lose all the other things that you find so convenient about a city, but yet you want to take advantage of all that a city has to offer and whine and bitch about how there are almost "no authentic neighborhoods" here. You are also quite possibly the same person who swirls your wine and entertains your dinner companions with stories on how your mechanic is the "salt of the earth" because what he does is "honest work with his hands" and how you know that cargo pants look "great with stilettos and a silky top", but there are people out there who actually wear them when they work "out in the fields" (these are actual quotes, by the way. I am not making that shit up) and people like that don't really know anything about fashion and art and architecture, and yet they're happy.

And that, my friends, is when I stand up from my chair, place my napkin delicately upon my seat, stroll over, and punch you in the face.

Part Two: The Date Upon Which My Spirit Is Broken & I Almost Lose My Will To Live

Thursday night, the second date this week, was a horrible date. Not horrible in that he was horrible - it wasn't quite comparable to this - but...horrible enough.

He was a nice guy. And cute (which was nice, since his pictures were of the crapshoot variety - the kind where you find yourself saying, "I hope you look like THIS!" when you look at some of them and then saying, "Oh god, please don't look like this!" when you look at others). But then he started talking.

It's the monologue. I've been on three very specific dates now upon which the guy monologues endlessly. Could it be that he's nervous? Could be. Could it be that he's trying to impress me? Could be. But it is just not hot when you're sitting there, trying to figure out who he reminds you of, and you suddenly realize that he reminds you of one of your clients. The kind who has autism, and whose daily conversations go like this:

"You wanna play trains I really like trains one time I went on a train and it was really fun but my brother didn't like it so we had to get off and then my mom told me I could have a candy bar and I really like candy bars except for the ones with nuts in them because I'm allergic and I could die and I really don't want to die because then my mom would be sad and my brother would get all of my toys and I have this one toy that's like a Robocop only it's really a Rescue Hero and when you press a button it lights up and goes "WHOO WHOO" like a police car does have you ever ridden in a police car I really want to ride in one one time because cops are so cool except I don't wanna hafta ride in one because I'm in trouble because my mom would get SO MAD and when she gets really mad her face gets red and my brother starts crying and I can't watch any movies and I really like this one movie Cars have you ever seen that movie?"

Yeah. That guy.

And here's the thing - like I said, he was a nice guy. And it really wasn't him, per say, that made the date so horrible. It was my possible future, lying barren and bleak before my eyes. Is this really how it's going to be? I thought to myself, as I took a sip of my Sprite, nodded at something he was saying - I don't know what it is, because I stopped paying attention after he started telling me about how he had watched the reality show "Conveyor Belt of Love", and even though I told him I had watched the whole thing with my friends, he still insisted on taking me though the play-by-play and look at me after each detail to see if I got what he was saying and completely ignore me wh I would nod and tell him, I know, I watched it, I remember that part, yes, I get it, BECAUSE I ALREADY WATCHED THE WHOLE THING AND THEREFORE I ALREADY KNOW EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS - and sighed quietly, but wistfully. I don't think I want to go on any more dates, I found myself thinking. Sometimes, on dates like these, I've told myself I came out even because I walked away having met someone interesting or, at least, having a story to tell. But I really don't feel that way anymore. Now I'm just walking away with my spirit broken.

And then it hit me. I'm the 30 year old single woman who ends up on horribly bad dates. I'm the funny sidekick in the movie, the one that everyone feels bad for but not too bad because it's mostly mixed in with relief that they're not her. I'm the aunt that people smile sadly and shake their head over as they hang up the phone, wondering aloud if I'm ever going to find someone. I'm the coworker about whom newcomers ask innocently "Is she married?", and when people shake their heads the newbie makes a silent "Oh" with their face and switch the subject. Somehow, somewhere, at some point, I have changed from the swinging single to that woman.

And that's when I basically lost my will to live.

I don't wanna do this anymore. Maybe all those guys had it right all this time, when they told me that they were more into "hanging out" than dating. Maybe I'm just going to "hang out" and "get to know a guy" through beers and darts. Maybe I'm just going to emulate myself after Stevie Knicks, and be married to my art or some shit like that. Maybe I'm just going to take a lover or two and stop caring about having any time of romantic connection or falling in love or getting married or anything like that. Besides, don't they say that falling love is basically a more socially-acceptable form of going crazy? Because it is, isn't it? I mean, I remember one of the first times I knew I was in love with someone was when we caught eyes across a bowling ally. Did you get that? We were bowling, he went up the counter to get a couple more drinks, I looked back at him, we held eyes for a couple of seconds, and I was like, "I'm totally in love with him." Who wants that kind of shit to happen to them? Plus, I'm pretty sure that I've lost all capacity to be physically attracted to someone, so maybe this is a good time to just cut my losses and get on with things, like all the awesome projects I've got planned for my file cabinets.

And if I am that chick who is just not destined to find her soul mate (and we all know them. I know some of you are practically jumping in your seats, just waiting to fill up the comment section with "Nooo! It'll happen, trust me!!!" tidings, but sometimes, it just doesn't happen) then that sucks but whatever. I just kind of want to know. I would like someone to walk up to me on the street, pick up my hand, peer into my palm, and tell me, "You are shit outta luck. Might as well give up now." Because then I could concentrate on leaving my legacy through my talent at crochet, or unsolicited advice directed towards preteens, or amazing and uplifting blog posts such as these. I'd have so much more free time if I wasn't worried about working out or dressing up or showering just so I can attract a mate. In fact, that'd be kind of great. I could do whatever I wanted, organize my life however I wanted, and not have to worry about staying flexible in case someone came into my life. I could be all, "NO, I take up the WHOLE bed when I sleep! GO HOME!" or "I always brush my teeth first, then wash my face, then floss, then moisturize. So I guess you're just going to have to wait your turn."

When I wrote most of this on Thursday night, I was going to end it with the proclamation that I think I'm done for a while, this shit is bleak, kids, I tried, etc. And I did try, yeah? I've spent pretty much half of this year going on dates. Lots of dates. And while I do kind of want to give up, I also can't help but think about how the one thing, above all, that I've learned from all of this is that there are actually some men out there who do have the nerve to ask a girl out on a real live date. It is the biggest complaint that I hear from almost all the women that I know - how guys, especially in Minnesota, aren't aggressive or outgoing enough - and it's a complaint that I've made before, as well. So I know that if a man has enough assertiveness to ask a girl out, I want to at least reinforce that by agreeing to go on a date with him. It's for the future of womankind, people. Like I've said before, I'm the training bra of girlfriends. If I leave no other mark on this earth during my lifetime, I will at least leave some lessons and knowledge to a couple of men who can then share those things with some lucky girl (you're welcome).

Also, while driving to Kowalkski's this afternoon, I caught sight of a man who completely fit the vision in my head that comes up when people ask about my "type." I cannot describe him to you, because any description that I try to come up with just sounds totally lame, but let's just say that seeing him this afternoon restored my faith and spirit that there might still be someone out there that I might want to go on a date with. See that? I am optimistic! I am resilient! I am also quite possibly masochistic, but I am okay with that now that I'm back to being in love with life!

And yes, this is totally about Brian Stricker, Kris. Sorry we made out at your wedding. I look great in brown satin. Sue me.

What's the statute of limitations on deleting a guy's phone number from your phone? Like, let's say that you maybe haven't spoken to them in two years, and they live in Montana, and the last time you saw them was when you made out with them at your brother's wedding because you've been in love with him your whole life, ever since you were in the 9th grade, and you almost had your chance years ago when you were 21 and he came with your brother on a trip up to Hayward and the two of you were dancing and he was holding your hand and telling you how cute you were but your brother was there and another guy you were dating was there so you didn't try to kiss him even though for years you kicked yourself for it because the other guy you were dating ended up with the nickname Date Rape Joe and who cares what your brother thinks because he should want you to be happy but apparently he doesn't because he was totally pissed that you made out with this guy at - well, technically, after - the wedding even though the guy spent practically all night talking to you and freely told others that you've had a lot of "moments" over the past 15 years and you have and if there were maybe a top three list of men you would marry tomorrow he would be on that top three but he lives in Montana and currently has no intentions of moving and doesn't even have a computer because that's how remote he is and therefore there's almost no chance of the two of you reuniting anytime soon except for maybe another long conversation late one night if you get up the guts to call him again which you might not do because after the wedding he promised he would call you at least once every two weeks and he did at first but then didn't and one night you sent him a drunk text that wasn't maybe the most well-thought-out and even though he told you it was totally cool and you've texted occasionally since then, you totally don't want to be the girl who chases down some guy in Montana especially when he couldn't even call you once every fourteen days even though you've had some pretty intense "moments", according to him, so he should probably be the one to call you, right?

So. Should I delete it, or not?

formspring.me

What would it take to get you to make out with me at the airport?

For you to grow a pair and ask me out on a date. I'm not going to answer these questions anymore. I think anyone who reads my blog could figure out that I say yes to almost any first date (hello, Mask?), but if you can't seem to find the self-confidence or guts to make an actual, real-life move, I'm guess I just can't seem to find the time or energy to craft answers to these questions.

The End.

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Part One: On Sparks and Cannibalism

So I had two dates this week. And, LET IT BE KNOWN, neither of them were from online dating. Not that I think that's an accomplishment or anything, but it's nice sometimes, you know? To have a guy just ask you out organically (I seriously just used the word "organically." I'm turning lame by the second)...or through Facebook, whichev.

And we're going to break this up into two parts, reason one being that combining them would make for a really long post, and reason two being that I'm incredibly lazy and thus think it's a brilliant idea to get two blog posts out of the same subject. Thus -

The first gent I went out with was someone who friended me on Facebook after noticing that we had some things in common, specifically that we both enjoyed to a certain book club. This was also the premise of the date. The current book club selection was The Road by Cormac McCarthy. Would I like to make a literary comparison to the current film of the same subject and title, he asked me? I would, I replied! I love books and movies and dates, and I especially love all three togetha, in one magical Sunday afternoon!

Mmkay, first of all, have any of you read the book, The Road? Hmm? Have you? Do you know what it's about? To sum it up, it's pretty much one of the most excruciatingly brutal books I have ever read (and I used to read a lot of books on the Holocaust when I was in middle school. I was a weird kid). Now, think of some of the worst psychological positions that you can imagine, and...place them in a movie! For instance, this movie did a fantastic job of depicting pretty much my worst nightmare of what one might find down in a cellar. It's a brilliant film, the acting is impeccable, and it's incredibly well made, but it's one of those films that you find yourself acknowledging that, while it's important to see and you're glad you did see it, you never ever really ever want to see it again. Ever. And it sticks with you. For days, weeks. Monday at work I found myself looking around, thinking, "Do you even know? Do you even have any idea what could happen? And when it does, will you be the kind who's okay with eating people?" That question really prompts one to reassess all of your current relationships...

As for the date, he was a nice guy, but no sparks. Great dresser, though. And bright. Really bright. He doesn't watch TV, though, which would be a problem for us, since 70% of my entire being results from television. He also doesn't really like comedies, which I thought was both weird and delightful. Here, this whole time while critiquing online profiles, I've been giving people shit for writing, "I love to laugh" because I felt it was stating the obvious. "Who doesn't like to laugh?" I'd ask myself (and you, in my blog posts about it). But now I've found him...there is actually a person out there who doesn't like to laugh (not that he wouldn't laugh if you said something funny. He just doesn't go out of his way to make himself laugh, if that makes sense). It was like finding the Hope Diamond or something.

So, while I was hoping that I would stand in the movie theater lobby and watch him walk in and just know that every prophesy had finally come true and I could now fall totally in love and will never have to go on another date ever again, I really just got a bunch of haunting memories and maybe an interesting-friend-who-reads-a-lot out of the mix. Which is alright, too, I guess.

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If coffee weren't an option, would you choose tea or hot chocolate as your replacement drink of choice?

I already switch back and forth between the three (did you know that, after copious amounts of coffee drinking, your body starts to build fat cells around your organs to protect them from the acid? Gross), but I do have to say - if there was a hot chocolate that had no calories, I'd be drinking that shiznit all day long.

As it is, I usually choose tea as my alternative. Drag.

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Does this mean I have to take care of him, too? OR can this be like a Nanny Diaries adoption, where I only adopt him so he'll work for me for free?

On Friday I received an alert from Ang about this website -It's definitely generated some decent buzz (it should also be noted that, after I became a "fan" on Facebook, I received about 5 e-mails from complete strangers - males, of course - who wrote, basically, "Adopt a guy? WTF?!"...as if the fact that I would be a fan of something that objectifies men as objects to be sold and bought should come as a surprise). Although the premise can be easily surmised as an online dating service geared specifically towards women, I am hoping that there might be some previously un-thought-of (is that even a word? Should it be hyphened? I'm asking you this to present an appearance of actually caring) twist in there, too. We need something fresh, in the online dating world. Although I would prefer that that "something fresh" be the "man of my dreams so I don't have to do this shit anymore", I'll take some bells and whistles, too.

I'm easy to please, that way.

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Why am I now addicted to Cougar Town?

Because it's so FUNNY, and every character is so great, and the cast is amazing, and every story line is hilarious but also something that most women have also experienced, and it's got Courtney Cox! and that hilarious blond girl from Freaks & Geeks and SUPER HOT guys as extras, and sometimes it gets a little schmaltzy when the "real lesson" is learned but it's so entertaining that you're willing to overlook that because the show is FREAKING GREAT.

That's why.

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How does it all interrelate?

Magic. I don't fucking know...if we're talking about a mutual relationship between one thing and another, and you're asking me this question, then the answer would have to be that it all interrelates because of me. That I'm the center, and all said objects and relationships are orbiting around me, connecting either through symbiotic dependence or by synapses firing at the exact same time.

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Why would you NOT want to do online dating?!

Check out this brilliant gem, sent to me the other day by a high school classmate and FB friend,, Tobi Severson. To "Paul's" credit, she is quite the beautiful girl. However, to her credit, she's pretty deft at picking out a douche when she sees one.

And guess who qualifies.


Looking Great
Hello, How are you? Are you originally from Tennesse? Because your the only 10 I see. Its like a kid in a candy store on match, I started last week and am finding it intrigueing. Out of all the candy I looked at today your the one I like the most. When I first saw your picture I thought I knew you, do I? Then I realized you were the girl in my dreams or rather the girl of my dreams. So in a way I do know you. I've been single for 2 years now and I'm ready to get serious about a woman just like you. I don't care how far away you live. Where theirs a will their always a way. Lately my hobbies slowed with the winter, swimming, bowling, cooking, watch football and working on my BMW. (& looking for you) Looking forward to hearing from you.
Paul

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Are u a douche?

Ha ha ha! Maybe. Sometimes. But not as much as "u" are.

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I love advice columns.

Check this one out.

Via this girl.

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Which would you rather?1)have a white unicorn that you could summon at any time.2)be able to morph into a half-human-half-unicorn (Centaur style) at any time.

Wow. This question was harder than I thought!

First of all, morphing into a half-human-half-unicorn would be a great party tricks. And I like party tricks.

But I don't think it can quite compare to having a white unicorn I could summon at any time. I would totally invest in a wardrobe of floaty pastel dresses and ride that shit all over the place, all the time.

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What's in Apple Cider?

Your mom's box.

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formspring.me

How close are you to letting the rest of us read your book?

Sigh. Not sighing at you - this is a nice question, and thanks for being interested - but just sighing over the truth of the answer.

More than halfway through with the final (FINAL!) draft. Then, the wondrous road to finding an agent (know any? Cause if you do, then that will speed up the process that much faster!)

I'm toying with posting some excerpts on the blog, but am unsure how to do it so as to pique curiosity but not give the whole story away. If enough people want it, and want it enough, I'll do it. Otherwise, look for it in a bookstore near you in 2020!

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Suppose you are invited to join the cast of Jersey Shore. And filming hasn't ended. Why were you kicked out of the house? - B

Probably because I punched The Situation in the face because he wouldn't stop talking about The Situation.

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Belief.

You'd like to believe that you're the type of person that everyone likes, loves. That they'll always give you the benefit of the doubt, even when they suspect that you've made a mistake. And there are some people like that out there, who have that. I've met them, and they're pretty lucky. I'm not that person. I'm pretty polarizing, which is something I've known about myself since the 3rd grade. I had to learn, during some long and hard years, that being liked is not the same as loyalty, that being popular is not the same as being loved. And I feel lucky, to have learned that. Since then, I've stubbornly traded in bushels of acquaintances for a few deeply close friends.

I'm not perfect. I will gladly tell you that and all the reasons why, if you ever felt the need to ask me. I have an explosive temper, and it's at its worst when it comes from a place of hurt. It's caused the burning of a lot of bridges. Which, mostly, in hindsight, is for the best. In the dark early hours of New Year's Day, 5 of my friends and 2 of my roommates sat, sprawled out on couches and curled up on floors, and talked in low voices about relationships and what we were willing to do for them. A roommate expressed disbelief at my statement that I would live in a cardboard box for the kind of person I intend on marrying. "No, it's true," Katy defended quietly, out of the blue. "You wouldn't believe some of the things that Amber has done for someone she loved." It's funny, to sit across the room from the best friend you've had since you were 14 and be caught off guard by something she knows about you. I would walk through fire before I let the people I care about feel as if they were nothing. But I will also set the world on flame if I feel like a person - especially someone I cared about or someone who has hurt someone I care about - has come far enough, they are allowed no further. And I can be ferocious, I can be brutal, and I am great at being vindictive. That obviously does not make me the greatest person you know. Possibly one of the most candid, but likely not the most kind.

But I don't pretend to be someone I'm not, and I don't choose to operate under illusions that others are something to me that they are not. "She is not my friend," Karah texted me one summer's night, after a run-in with an acquaintance who had turned toxic. It was so simplistic, it caught me off guard. No excuses, no rationalizations, no gutter-talk. Just simply, "She is not my friend." Most of us, in early childhood, remember being taught that everyone should be our friend, that we need to like and be nice to everyone. As we grow, we figure out that maybe that's not always true. In adulthood, some of us have found a certain freedom in realizing that it's not at all true.

I know who my friends are. I know who the people are who say congratulations when I've done something right and "Hey, you kind of fucked up" when I've done something wrong. I know who the people are who boycott when things are slim but assemble when they're ripe. I know who the people are who stand up for me, even if it's only to switch the subject or walk away from the ragging, and I know who the people are who pertain to "not take sides" because it affords them the luxury of hearing all the dirt but relieves them of any of the responsibility. And I've never asked anyone to be either/or for me. But I do know who you are.

This post is not about a person in particular, in case you were wondering. In fact, it actually has nothing to do with her. However, if you are reading this and wondering if that person is, in fact, the specific of this post, then it's about you. You are not my friend. Because you should know. You should know, because if you had been my friend, you wouldn't have to wonder, now. You would have given me the benefit of the doubt, you would have at least asked me about it.

But you know, it always gets me, when you're right. When you know you didn't do anything wrong, and other people should know it, but they don't. The worst is when you realize that there's just no point in trying to tell them. I once suffered for a year and a half over something like that. I didn't open my mouth, I didn't even bother to defend myself, I just simply took the high road because I felt like, by now, they should know, and if they didn't already, nothing I could tell them would change it. And vindication did come, in the end. The truth does have a funny knack of always winning. Some friendships were patched, but things will never be the same again. I will always look at them and think, "You should've known. I stuck up for you, all those times. I didn't sell out, and I wouldn't. And you, you should've known that."

I'm not wrong. In fact, I've been pretty generous this entire time, something that those who know - who have actually asked or who have been smart enough to figure it out - would agree on. And the truth will come out, so that actually doesn't even matter right now. You can say what you want about me. You can heatedly cite all the times when I might have talked shit about a person and pretend that I was alone in it (and I am alone, at least in the sense that I actually have no problem completely admitting that I do it, and also because I actually have the balls to also do it to their face). You can get mad at me and call me out on things about myself that I'm already completely aware of and am always willing to admit. You can boycott me, ignore me, have Facebook chats about me...I really don't care. Because you are not my friend.

Take your troops and leave.

Look what I did, Mom & Dad!

And you said only stalkers and perverts were going to read this...

I'm actually having a super good day. Imagine this post being written amongst sunshine and butterflies and unicorns, frolicking in meadows...

From an OkCupid.com message -

Your Lindsey Lohan movie bit reminded me of this girl who, when prompted for something interesting about herself, responded with, "I once drank beer from a prosthetic leg." So that's where the bar is at. I challenge you to meet or exceed it. What's exciting about you?

- Name withheld

Wait...didn't you message me? You did, right? See, I'm confused. Besides the fact that it's stunningly poor form to immediately compare one girl to another - if she set the bar so high, why aren't you with her? - I don't quite understand why you're demanding that I entertain you. You wrote me. You're the one who checked out my profile without any provocation from moi and felt it was compelling enough to warrant a message, and now you want me to do a little dance for you, shake some jazz hands, "meet or exceed" your bar? Who are you?!

And wait...when this girl was prompted for something interesting about herself, did you offer anything interesting in return? Or did you just chuckle to yourself and reply with more tests and equations to see if she was worthy enough amuse you for the long term? Do you also walk up to a girl in a bar and demand that she order you a drink? Because that's how it works, right? For instance, if I were to approach you in a real live social setting, and, following the order of the entire natural history of mating rituals, I wouldn't walk up to you and say, "Hey, you! Do something to impress me! Show me a party trick! Dance, monkey, DANCE!" No. Since I'm the one who's coming up to you, I'd have a trick in my pocket to incite you to let me into your space, a hook that would encourage you to give me some attention. I'd give you a compliment on your Ed Hardy shirt, or tell you a joke about Michael Jackson dying, or, I don't know, I'd show you the nice watch that I'm wearing and inform you on how much gold overlay costs or something.

But, being the accepting, generous, and forgiving person I am, I decided to check out your profile to see if maybe there had been an oversight...maybe you were a really nice guy who just phrased things in a poor format. What I found was that you did a fantastic job with your profile if your goal was to come off as an arrogant asshole. And yes, yes, it is extremely archaic for girls to expect any guy to try to "impress" them by opening car doors for them. Why would anyone deign to expect that someone would or should make small, courteous gestures to show human kindness or fondness for one another? Hope you've resigned yourself to not expecting your significant other to ever make dinner for you or take you to the doctor when you're sick. That kind of stuff is just soo archaic, and I wouldn't dream that you would be the sort of guy who would look for a girl to do that to impress you.

Sigh. Can I please just meet the love of my life so that I can move to the country with all of my friends and be done with this? Please?

formspring.me

What song(s) bring back the worst middle/high school dance memories? - B

I would have to say "I'll Make Love To You" by Boyz II Men. Besides the fact that the synth part is super cheesy, I've always hated it because it was played once at a semi-formal, during the snowball dance (the kind where you pick someone to dance with, and then you break apart and pick someone else to dance with, and it snowballs, etc). I really, really wanted someone to pick me for the snowball dance. They had to, right? There were, like, tons of guys who got picked which meant they had to slow dance even if they didn't want to, so THEY HAD TO PICK A GIRL, AND I WANTED THAT GIRL TO BE ME.

And it wasn't. I couldn't even get a slow dance during the freaking snowball.

Slow dances are the bane of my existence, I've decided.

Ask me anything

LOOK EVERYBODY!

ANG MADE ME INTO A UNICORN!!!!

I don't know if you can tell, but I'm having a total unicorgasm right now.

OH. MY. GOD.

LOOK WHAT KARAH MADE THIS MORNING!
I want one. I want one really bad. I want one so bad but I don't have a fancy fucking phone like the iPhone and so I can't make one but I waaaaaannnnttt oooooooonnnnneee!!!!!!!!!!!

formspring.me

If you were a female Degrassi: TNG character, which one would you be and why? How about male? Same questions but involving old school Degrassi.

Female Degrassi: The Next Generation character: Ellie. She's just so smart, cute, and edgy. She got to sleep with her totally hot college newspaper boss, which is something I always wanted to do, and she fell in love with her gay best friend, which is totes something I *would* do.

Male: My favorite is Spinner. Even when he has cancer in his balls, he's still funny and adorable.

Like me.

Old Degrassi...Caitlin and Joey. Fo' sho'.

Ask me anything

I also really like Snickers bars, just for the record.

I used to be super into bacon. I mean, I still like it, but there was a year or two there when I was really, really into it, as evidenced by this picture of the amazing bacon-themed birthday cake from my 29th birthday, thought up by Chelsea and Karah and created by Wuollets Bakery (btw, I would like to take this opportunity to say that Chelsea, Karah, and Wuollets Bakery make an amazing partnership. Chels and Karah come up with the most hilarious, creative concepts for birthday cakes, and Wuollets Bakery never fails to make them a vivid reality. One of these days I'll post a collection of photos of said brilliance).

I stopped being quite so enamored of bacon not long after this. Celebrating bacon in such an intense, amazing, beyond-my-wildest dreams way sadly gave me a slightly brutal bacon hang-over. I will still always love bacon, but the sparky courtship was over. Now we just enjoy a nice, easy, we're-married-but-are-more-like-good-roommates kind of thing. When I go out to brunch, sometimes I don't even get bacon. And that's okay. Spending time apart is healthy. Besides, I've got this new thing going with cupcakes, and I'm only one girl.

But of course, as we all know, when I like something it immediately becomes super trendy, so my friend Deb sent me a link to some bacon-themed stuff that I think you'll all enjoy -

It's Bacon Day.

Bacon is meat candy.

Bacon, The Gateway Meat.

Eat it up, baby. Eat. It. Up.

New Year's Resolution, 2010.

So even though I have a long list of things I want to accomplish within this decade, I am continuing the tradition of having one very specific New Year's Resolution that I feel will directly contribute to my quality of life.

Let's recap:

2007: No blowjobs in 2007 (failed, surprisingly. You're welcome, that one guy that I broke both the Man Ban and the resolution for. I mean, we have this awesome friendship now, but at what cost? Only my pride, my word, my honor, my self-respect...)

2008: Don't get pregnant in 2008. (Success!)

2009: I don't think I had one? I think it was to see more sights around Minneapolis. Super lame, right? That's because I had a boyfriend at the time, and was still days away from pulling myself out of said lameness. Drag.

To make up for it, though, I have a new resolution for this year. I'm really excited about it, and I've put a lot of thought into it over the past week. And it is this -

No anal sex in 2010.

With enough passionate commitment, I think I can do it.