I KNEW there was a reason I like going into town!

Yesterday, our dear capital was positively awash with fetching young men. Charming Fed-exers here, dapper business types there, sporty young tourists over yonder,... and all so friendly!

Even the miniature cutie in the shoe-repair place threw down a smooth move in slipping me his number along with my receipt.
I have GOT to try that some time.


Yup, it was a good day.

I'm an idiot. I wasted time being scared to make a play for a total hottie and now I think it may be too late.

What the hell was wrong with me? How could I have been so dumb?
I was blind, that's for sure, and I'll admit, maybe a little shy too.

He flirted shamelessly with me, and all I could muster were unenthusiastic responses.
I guess I can't blame him for being discouraged.

I took it for granted that he'd be there if I happened to change my fickle, immature mind, but now it looks like he has grown tired of my coyness, and moved on to greener pastures.

I made too much of it. It didn't have to be a big deal, it could have just been a seasonal romance, a beautiful fling to satisfy our curiosity, but I overanalysed the situation.
I made excuses not to be attracted to him: his head's too big, he's got a dorky name, his voice sounds feminine....

What I didn't realise was that those descriptions would no longer apply to him, once I had been exposed to his true colours:

He's intelligent, handsome, polite, fun-loving, focused, athletic, talented, rhythmic (he can dance, y'all!), and undeniably sexy.

I messed up big time. But maybe, just maybe, I can fix this.

Where the hell's my push-up bra?


*You've been reading an excerpt from my upcoming novel entitled The Origin of The Femme Fatale

Last night I took the 1st steps towards becoming a bad-ass guitar-chick: I cut my nails down to the quick, and got Dad to show me chords C, F, an G7.
I think he made up that last one cuz I've never heard of G7 before.
Oh well, I'll play along, I guess.
Of course, my fingers are rather sore right now. No doubt that in time, all this irritation will cause callouses on my fingertips, which I'm not too thrilled about, but that's a small price to pay for the reward of being able to bring the gift of beautiful music to those around me (who currently refer to it as "a bloody racket").

C.O.T.

And this week's "You Need A Hard Slap Upside The Head" Award goes to:

The all-natural, pseudo-rasta, vegetarian, don't-shave-nothing male, who likes his women in stilletto heels, tight clothing, and full make-up.
Schuuuupes.
Where do I find these guys?

I have decided that I want to learn to play the guitar. And be good at it.

C.O.T.

I watched Catwoman for the 1st time the other night, and it wasn't as bad as all the reviews made it out to be. It was kinda inspiring actually. Makes me wanna get some leather and go seduce myself a cop.
Halle Berry is so darn cute, and that hip-swinging sauter she pulled off at the end of the movie: poetry in motion!!!