I was like a high school girl getting ready for the prom.  Freshly showered: check.   Hip and cool yet individualisitc outfit: check.   Freshened breath: check.   Hair perfectly put in place: check.   Cologne: check.   Tanned skin: check.   I was ready to go to the comic shop.  What?  The comic shop?  Yes, you see, the owner or manager or whatever he is of the comic shop has for some bizzare reason caught my eye.  He’s older, maybe in his early thirties, but he is extremely nice and loves comics as much as I do.  I guess that’s really all I know about him, but that’s enough for me, combined with the fact that he is cute by my standards.  Anyway, last week he and I introduced ourselved to each other and I volunteered to help him out with some new inventory he was getting in.  He took my cell number and that was the last I has seen or heard of him till today.  Now, he has no wedding ring, I checked.  But I wasn’t getting ahead of myself till he asked for my cell number, then for some reason my brain kicked into hyper gear with furture “What If…” scenarios.  I arrived at the store today expecting maybe some witty banter, and update on the new inventory and some discussion about the new Batman movie.  Instead I got my stuff quickly, went to the counter and thanked him, leaving quickly and nervously and feeling foolish.  Why you ask?  It’s back to the prom attitude.  I realized while he scanned my comics that I was being a total tool.  This is a grown man who works at a comic shop and chatted with a customer and here I am getting all crush-style about him.  I hate thinking about dating.  It’s beyond just hating dating, I hate even considering that I could possibly date people.  Seriously, I need the dating handbook or something. 

         I left the shop thinking about how I could use a beer.  but then fell back on my new mannerisms.  I am trying not to drink as much and doing a great job might I add.  I went to Big Daddies for lunch yesterday, but that was my first visit in a week.  And I only had one beer.  I am just gonna not drink there anymore.  It costs me too much money and I always end up going overboard to try and prove my drinking ability with the old veteran drunk in there.  It’s silly I know, but at least I am making a stand against my stupid habit.

       In other news…Wilson is moving into a complex by my house.  I am jealous and want to move out of my house, but I can’t afford it with my credit card bills biting my ass all the time.   My dad thinks I should revise my resume again since apparently everyone in the world thinks I’m worthless.  (I mean, I just want an interview of something to give me a confidence boost).  My continued mailing of resumes is getting more desperate as this week I applied at a construction agency as well as a medical supplies company.  My cell phone never rings.   They now make fudge stripes with choclate cookies and white fudge and I ate 5 pieces of Salisbury Steak plus fries for dinner.

   I’m out.  Thanks for listening.  Peace.


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