"Somebody told me, you had a boyfriend, that looked like a girlfriend..."

Call me old-fashioned, or just plain old, but I really love gender-specific roles. I love being a girl and having doors opened for me, and as much as it raises a few eyebrows, I actually love not having to call the shots and being told what to do when I'm in a relationship..it's very relaxing, and I am too indecisive to pick the place to eat (no problems however telling you will NOT be taking me), and I love that my time with my friends is very much MINE. It has to be mine because guys don't give a shit what girls chat about, they don't care about who's zoomin who and who wore what to what party and blah blah...most heterosexual men would rather be water boarded that listen to lady garb gossip..or at least they should. Part of what makes men so sexy to me is that there is so much of them that is nothing like my girlfriends. I get something completely different from both scenarios...night with a guy vs night with the girls- polar opposites..keeps life balanced. However, Every now and then the two paths cross, and a man will get stuck with my friends and listen to our banter...literally listening, it's all the man can do...no opinion allowed...really. Even if you are asked to comment, don't..you will be wrong. More importantly, do not EVER repeat what you hear...once you have broken this cardinal rule..you are a woman. A Chaka Khan listenin, vodka slammin, pantie dancin, period havin WOMAN. Man gosspiers are the most unattractive of the male species, because they possibly have the "She-mone" hormone (not the Michael Jackson slogan). Let the he said/she said be our thing, our man-interpreted flaw that is trademark to the vagina. Many men think of a woman's purse as a dark layer of secrets..an African safari of foreign objects...just wouldn't go there, apply this same theory to our girl/girl relationships..stay out of that shit. I get that we are ridiculous..I get that you don't get us, but as much as you hate to admit it..you love women because you get from us (besides the obvious) what you don't get from your boys. Unless you like girls who are boys, who like boys to be girls, who do boys like they're girls, who do boys like they're boys;) Which if that's the case, cwall me honey for cwauffee twalk..we'd love to have another girlfriend.

"Women do not snore, fart, or belch; therefore, they must bitch or else they will blow up."

"You're so vain, you probably think this blog is about you."

Hey. Since I'm pretty new to this blogging thing, I decided to do some surfing on the American Online to see what exactly people blog about, specifically females. My findings are that every girl that happens to be "single" and living in a "city" (Social Circle to Provo UT) seems to think they are Carrie Bradshaw (for those of you living on another planet..that'd be "Sex and the City"). All the gripes are the same...every girl writing is exceptional, oddly perfect, none of their friends can even believe they are single, so hot, a rare bird, one of the few "catches" out there that just hasn't met "the right guy" yet because all guys are afraid of a "strong and independent woman," all are commitment-phoebes that only think with their dicks, and they are all basically under qualified freaks that shouldn't even have the audacity to ask for her coveted number. Get the fuck out of here...and let me just preface before I dig any deeper here, I am short...really short, 28, recently single, have fake blond hair, bleach my teeth, wear padded bras, have hair extensions, don't always keep up with my pedicures (or manicures), I say/do dumb things when I drink (and when I don't drink), can't type with both hands, am a selfish only child, talk excessively (insert your own opinion here)...to say the least...I am a very flawed girl...far from perfection. With that said, I'm no saint, but I dig it (flaw #455, dumb hippie jargon) when someone gives me a compliment. I've seen what goes into approaching a girl...sometimes, long before he even walks up, he's either had a pep talk from his buddy, or he's on a bet for a number close. Walking up to a group of girls is an even bigger risk...ever fallen down the flight of stairs in the middle of East Andrews? (I have..flaw #456, clumsy as shit ((Flaw #457, sailor mouth)), getting rejected while your friends are watching is probably the equivalent to that feeling. It's a compliment to have ANYONE hit on you, because it takes courage...and you (believe it or not) are not perfect either. I do get that some guys are over the top (refer to sexy man in photo with me..but Barry was harmless, I entertained him), you don't have to be a complete bitch to get them to move along..(you don't have to take that $12 drink either). All of the fabulous singletons writing these blogs have two things in common..1) no one seems to be "good enough" for them and 2) They are all single. I smell a parallel. Hey Gloria, if everybody wants you, why isn't anybody calling?

"She really has an over-inflated sense of self confidence that stems from nowhere."-John Teitter, Bang! Salon

The car is not the home.

I love a long road trip alone...my music, junk food, truck stop shopping, stopping whenever I want and talking to myself...I get to feeling like I'm right at home. But I am not at home, I am in public..in times, even on display. Ive heard the stories of people and the things they've done in their cars; Peeing in cups, peeing in pants, peeing out windows, applying makeup, Strokin', watching DVD's (of ALL genres) and if you have a VHS player in your car...you are my hero, dancing, knitting, sleeping, and the ever-so-popular picking of the nose. However, It's what Ive seen with my own eyes that has made me realize that some people get so accustomed to their automobiles that that leave reality. A month or so ago, a few of us were on the road home from Alabama, when I looked next to us to see a man who appeared to be having a medical issue, his face was convulsing, and he was dry heaving..so it seemed. I made eye contact with him, and he lifted himself off the seat to show all of us his glory...yep..he was "taking care of himself" and lucky us, we came in at the finish. He then fish-tailed off the next exit and we had an awkward ride home in silence..suddenly all of my Zaxby fries looked like little penises. Ew. That is actually the second time Ive seen that, (you know who you are Mr. driving south on GA 400 in your tan Chevy Avalanche with Gwinnett tag and UGA sticker)...sick bastard. There was also the car I was next to in traffic recently, elderly couple, wife is driving and smoking with the windows up..hubby is in the passenger seat hooked to an Oxygen tank. If I had a dollar for every person Ive seen picking his/hers nose, I would have $87.50 and be rich (kids count as .5). We are all on the road for one reason, to get someplace. Eventually you will arrive at your destination, and make that place the one you do these things at (except for you, oxygen tank lady..who is probably related to Tawny Kittain). The Ostrich buries its head in holes because it believes if it can't see you, you cant see it...but we are not Ostrich and the car is not home...so get you finger out of your nose and your hand out of your pants.