Cheese Stick Warrior

That's me, Destroyer of Cheese Sticks, Warrior of Woodchuck. I've recently taken to having a basket of cheese sticks and a bottle of my favorite beverage at a local eatery/bar while reading a book. Yes, that's what single, nerdy girls do that have no job and no male prospects. We eat alone, drink alone, read a book alone.

And, honestly, that's fine. I've put myself out there over and over again for jobs and lovers without much luck. It seems I'm over qualified for most jobs and under qualified for most guys. My writing experience and ability is far too extensive to be a receptionist at a realtor's office or an account manager for a pedo-tracking system. My looks, though above average, don't mirror Angelina Jolie or Megan Fox so I can't compensate for my lack of stellar employment or bastard child. Oh yeah, or the fact I'm a total snark-a-holic.

With let down after let down, continuous disappointments, and a total lack of lover-rific sex, you'd think I'd be wallowing in despair. Nah.

I've still got great legs and plenty of old-ass creepers checking me out when I walk through town, so I guess I'm doing just fine. Not to mention I still have two less than stellar dating profiles in the hopes of snaring some poor bastard who can't tell just how amazingly hot I really am from my pictures. Or that I'm a lot nicer in person than in text.

I can't help it. I'm super mean on the internet. It's so easy and I'm so good with words. It's hard not to be insulting at times. It's hard not to make fun of people. It's what I'm good at for chrissake. Respect that shit. Fo'real.

So, for now I'm going to enjoy reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being and a great cabernet, and you can send some hot men my way. I'll play nice, I promise.


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