Slutbag 1, Anita Mann 0

Congratulations to my co-worker, Slutbag, who broke her own streak last night, post softball game. Looks like she took the GSSM's tip of a few days ago and it worked. Maybe I should't take such a cavalier attitude with the GSSM, it appears that some of their suggestions are actually valid. I guess Slutbag must have really been working her feminine charm during a rousing game of cups last night b/c she ended up bringing home some dude. Well done Slutbag! Let's just hope you didn't receive a one way ticket to bone city and that you can start earning some frequent flyer miles!

On a different note, I know that you all can sense my great love and admiration for good ole Charm City. Here is yet another reason why Baltimore is the classiest city in America. While on their way to work this morning, a co-worker and her carpool mate were driving down baltimore street. While at a stop light, they happen to look out their window and to what to their wondering eyes did appear, but a man on narcotics pooping on the sidwalk! It must have been like a train wreck, you don't want to look at it but you cannot take your eyes off of it. How could they tell he was answering the call of number two? Well, b/c he pulled down his pants, butt out towards the street. Yup right there during morning rush hour traffic was a man defecating on the sidewalk. He didn't even attempt to hide it by using the McDonalds that was 50 yards away from him, or at minimum, try to be discreet and maybe finding an alley or something... but hey I guess when you gotta go, you gotta go. I think the best part of this story is our fearless law enforcement here in Baltimore City. Not one but three bike cops came up to impose their threatening punishment upon them. I'm sure the man was quite scared when three bike cops approched and said: "Dude, you can't do that here!" Way to command respect Baltimore City police. I'm sure this man will never drop rocks on the sidewalk again.

So I dont have any GSSM updates today. That is because I did not accompish my goal from yesterday of chatting up three hot babes (unless you count the cashier at Cafe Gourmet... he may not be a hot babe and I may not have chatted him up, but I did ask him for a small cup of coffee... baby steps) Thus, we cannot move forward until the last task is completed. I'll keep you posted on how it goes, with complete detail. Why do I get the feeling that I am going to get stuck in a traffic jam on my way to bone city this weekend?

I love you Springer,
Anita Mann

Livin' The Life That I Want

I wanted to start off today's entry with a quick hello, how are ya to Slutbag's little sister, the supreme chancellor of the We-HA, at One Tower Square. I'm so glad my lack of boneage is inspiring to you. Thanks for all of your encouragement, there will be a charitable donation request pending going towards the purchase of a male escort, or at minium, a vibrator!

It's been quite a day here in the office. The token asian one came in with a new hairdo this morning, although he didnt realize that he had a new look until we discovered it when he turned around. Having spent $35 for a hair cut, he came in with the sides of his hair short and the top of his head long. However, the "stylist" also left a triangle of long hair in the back of his head. It looked like the landing strip most girls ask for from their bikini waxer. All that was missing was the lightning bolts on the side of his head. The only way to discribe this look was to say that he went to the stylist with a picture of Maddox Jolie-Pitt and said: this is the look I'm going for. Unfortch, he went to a different salon to get the most amazing hair cut ever fixed, so now he looks respectable again. Maybe someday the sexiest haircut ever will make a return to glory!

Now that I dont have to study in the evenings I have been able to watch a lot of tv. So much so that even the commercials arouse my interest, particularly those commercials that advertise for Genital Herpes. I have never seen so many people excited about a sexually transmitted disease in my life! I mean, I know that if it were me and some random dude gave me the Clap or the drip, I would have his testicles in an iron vice on my desk, die my hair black and start dressing like Michael Jackson. But hey, I guess you're not cool unless you contract Genital Herpes. One of the commercials even has a jingle whose lyrics are "Livin' The Life That I Want" So what does that tell us? Well, if you want to be cool, sleep around with ditry people. If you want to be rich and famous, don't use protection. And for myself, if I ever have any hopes of being a Lady Who Lunches, find myself a homeless crack addict on Baltimore Street and pray that he is diseased.

Today's GSSM tip was a little scary for me. I have been unable to actually attempt this tip yet as it is only 4:17, and according to the Musinator, I would have more luck in the dark. Today I am to chat up at least three hot babes. Make small talk with a sexy waiter to help me to open up and practice my fliting skills. Well, considering the only places I've been today are work and Chipotle, where by the way I have yet to find a sexy babe, looks like I have a few more hours to complete this task... it may have to wait till tomorrow when I go duck pin bowling. However, I think I should clarify what I'm looking for in a man. Good looking (aka well dressed and hygenically sound), gets along with parents, loves sports (particularly ND football), and will keep me in the manner to which I have become accustomed (aka gotta have at least a little something in the bank.) I will be taking applications via the comment section, so ugly and poor losers need not apply.

Lookin for love in all the wrong places,
Anita Mann

Crushing or Stalking?

Today has been a rather great day. The sun finally came out, we had an ice cream social at work and for the first time in my life, I had under boob sweat. Now I know that this may not seem like a great feat, but for me it means that I actually have some curves to my body (other than the curves in my stomach, rear and upper thighs) . I thank the birth of my first under boob sweat to the amazing bra I purchased a few months ago. This bra is a chicken cutlet like apparatus that essentially sticks to your tatas and clasps in the middle. There's no back or straps involved whatsoever. The best part of this bra is that depending on where you stick the chicken cutlets on, you can have everything from your basic nipplitis prevention to your super skanky slut mode which pushes the boobs up and together. Now for a girl who has a rack like a 10 year old obese boy any kind of cleavage furrow is exciting. With this new bra I can have cleavage every day of the week (hence for the first time in my life the under boob sweat!) Plus because they are made of silicone, the feel really life like. Maybe this should be my new pick up line... excuse me, would you like to feel my rack, it's very lifelike! I'm sure that'll make the boys come a runnin.

Unfortunately today's GSSM tip of the day is not very pertinent to my life. Today they recommend using web sites like MySpace and Facebook to search for guys I had crushes on in high school. Then send them a message expalining that I am looking up people from school, noticed their pages, and thought i'd see what they're up to. Now A#1 this may sound like a good idea, however, having gone to the same single sex school from kindergarten through my senior year, the only people I could potentially contact are former female classmates. So unless I realize that I am never going to find a man and decide to change teams, this is really not so much feasable. B#2 I would like to express that there is a very fine line between Crushing and Stalking. It's ok to to have a crush, in fact, some people believe that it's fun to have a crush. But I think when you start looking up people on the internet by either Googling, facebooking, or myspacing, you've definitly stepped into stalker territory. People, there are laws against that. I'm trying to find a man, not get thrown in a women's correctional facility for 3-5 years where the closest thing to a man i would come to is the 6 foot 250 pound warden with chin hair named Bertha. I should advise though that I'm not trying to preach to you all about stalking. Let's be honest, I've done it, you've done it, hell your priest has probably done it. I'm just saying be careful who you stalk from afar. The second you try and make contact with someone who doenst want to talk to you, that's when things become skeevy. I think Ann and Nancy Wilson best described the concept of the Crush in their guitar power ballad, Alone:

Till Now I always got by on my own
I never really cared until I met you
And now it chills me to the bone
How do I get you alone?

Now that is some amazing lyric writing right there!

Stalking from afar,
Anita Mann

The Girly Girl In Me Comes Through!

It was a rather interesting morning. I woke up and realized that yes, it was still raining. I got up, made my bed and went into the bathroom to do my bathroom stuff. When I turned on the light, I caught something out of the corner of my eye so I looked at my bath tub and crawling out of the drain was this ginormous bug. It was about two inches long and skinny with about 500 legs that were super long. It was the most disgusting thing I have ever seen. I didnt want to get near the thing b/c it freaked me out! (I hate things that creep and crawl and live in the ground... blech!) I was at an impass. I didnt want to be within a 10 foot radius of this thing, yet I wanted it dead. And not just heart attack dead, but Mafia hit dead! So what did I do... I came up with the only solution I could think of at 7 am. I went to kitchen, got a solo cup, turned it upside down and covered the bug with the intention of having one of the guys from work come over and kill the thing b/c I certainly wasn't going to go anywhere near it. When I went to work I discovered that this insect that looked like something that could have been cast in the lead role of the Aliens movies was actually a silver fish and wouldn't bite. I wasn't concerned about it biting me, I was more fearful of the thing crawling up my arm and down my shirt or something... just the thought of it gives me the hee-bee-jee-bees.

So whats the point of this story? Well, its to inform everyone that Chivalry is not dead, even though I had my doubts this morning. I had originally called upon the only division one athlete I knew to come and kill the bug. I guess the Patriot League is nothing to write home about because he refused to come to my aid and kill the trapped beast in my bath tub. And to think, this is the same individual who came up with the Zebra theory. All I have to say is that a real Lion wouln't have been afraid to slay this monster. But then, an unlikely hero came to my rescue. My knight in shining armor was none other than Jager king of South Patterson Park Avenue. He arrived on his noble stallion (aka his white GMC Jimmy) and with one fell swoop of his foot, crushed the wretched beast into oblivion. He then went above and beyond the call of duty and disposed of the insect so that I would have have to see it again. Today I can say that Chivalry lives and his name is Wyatt.

And now for the GSSM top of the day. Today the recommendation is to join a group with a large guy to girl ration like a sports team or Habitat for Humanity. Now, I am all about helping those less fortunate than I, however that is why you hire an architect and contractor. Hopefully when I one day reach my goal of becoming a Lady Who Lunches, I will be able to give back to the community through philanthropic means as opposed to actually getting dirty and building a house. I have one piece of advise: contractors are like cleaning ladys, everyone should have one. As for the joining the sports team suggestion, well many of you already know that I am a very important person on my Kickball team. Not only am i a quality bunter, but i also double as team manager keeping track of the score and game stats. Its a terribly shameful job, but I prefer sitting back, drinking beer, and looking pretty in my outrageously large sunglasses than going out in the field where balls are flying at my head. There is also the little problem that I have no qualms about dropping the shoulder trying to knock the 2nd basemen off the base so as to secure my safety. The only problem with this is that sometimes I come at the basemen with such force that i have a tendency to lift the girl into the air and have her land about 5 feet from where she started. I get the feeling that this is not going to give the guys a good incentive to come a runnin. As for the guy situation at kickball, well, there's the guys on my team, all of which are people with whom I work and I can honestly say that I have more testosterone than they do. Then there are the guys on the other team. Now here is a brief discription of some of the other teams. There's Kneee Brace is has a rather intense obsession with his new truck. There's the guy who insists on wearing yellow stretch under armor. And there's the small Asian guy with the mohawk who acts like he injects Red Bull directly into his veins. Now if that doesn't sound like a group of stud muffins, I don't know what does.

I'm starting to feel like I'm driving around in circles and cannot find the on ramp to the super highway to bone city. I'd stop and ask for directions but I'm in an area where the only person around is a guy named Mo who has three teeth, a rat tail and wears a flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off. I wish there was Bone City GPS!

Seriously considering purchasing Tom Tom,
Anita Mann

"That Means Brenda is Being A Self Centered Little Bitch!" -Kelly Taylor

Today's bonus entry is in tribute to Aaron Spelling, father of the greatest television show ever created: Beverly Hills 90210. It was 9-0 that pretty much defined my wednesday night middle and high school years. I think the pinnacle of great television came when party of five aired right before my beloved 9-0. In addition to the ever present 9-0, Mr. Spelling also brought us great television feats such as The Mod Squad, Charlie's Angels, The Love Boat as well as new classics like Melrose Place, The Heights (whose theme song was How Do You Talk To An Angel by Jamie Walters) 7th Heaven and of course, Models Inc.

So to you, Aaron Spelling, I thank you for Tiffani Amber-Theissen's transformation from Kelly Kapowski into resident vixen Valerie Malone, introducing the world to Luke Perry via Dylan McKay, the most glorious high school graduation ever (God Bless Donna Martin), High waisted jeans and shoulder pads, single handedly bringing back the sideburns look, Ray Pruitt, Andrea Zuckerman's idealism, allowing us to experience the constant transformation of Tori Spelling's boobs and nose, and of course, I thank you most of all for Brenda Walsh.

See you at the Peach Pitt,
Anita Mann

Blame It On The Rain (Yeah, Yeah)

I think I need to move to Washington and work for the government because those people NEVER have to go to work. They get off every other Friday in the summer for no reason other than the fact that it's friday and they don't want to work. Not to mention the fact that they get off at the slightest threat of incliment weather. Oh no, it may snow an inch tomorrow, better close work. Why don't you politicians do an internship in the frozen tundra of upstate New York one winter and then give me a call. Today, the government is off because of... rain? I mean seriously... rain? Its not like Hurricane Katrina came through and wiped out all of the district. I mean, if Noah can build an arc you can find your way down to the hill. Ok, I know that some roadways are washed out and there was a mudslide on the Beltway this morning, but people, there is more than one road that leads downtown. If the postal service can deliver mail through rain, sleet and dark of night, I'm pretty sure the IRS can process my tax refund. It makes me physically ill to think that because of a little rain our fearless leaders are not solving the world's problems, but instead are sitting home in their Georgetown townhouses watching As The World Turns. Whatever happened to the hard working American who founded this country on labors and toils. I'm pretty sure that if there was a medical emergency and a doctor said he could not come to the hosiptal because of "rain" he would be sued for Medical Malpractice. So to all of you politicians and the liberal media, I say: Next time you want to blame the Republicans for a lack of a quick withdrawal from Iraq or the gas problem or whatever hot topic you want to whine about, do so from your office, not the La-Z-Boy you're sitting in because you don't want to get your new Burberry trench wet!

Ok, in case you cannot tell, I'm a little bitter that I have to work today so now that that rant is done I'll get on with an update on my journey to bone city. This weekend was an educational one for me. On Friday night pretty much my entire office ventured out to the Bay Cafe for happy hour. I was a little taken aback by the $5 cover to get in (what is this, Boat Club?), but was pleasantly surprised by the two for one deal being offered at the bar. When I returned to the bar with my two Coronas, I realized I was the odd person out. Apparently, all of the other girls were drinking things like Rum and Cokes or Malibu Pineapples. While slamming my two coronas (about a quarter of which ended up on my shirt by the way) and loudly arguing in favor of Brett Farve's return to the Packers this season, my former supervisor informed me that double fisting beers and screaming about sports is not going to attract the Lions. Well guess what? I like beer and I like sports and if this means that I look like a middle aged man with a spare tire than so be it. I refuse to act like every other brainless squirrel on the market just to land myself a Lion who thinks it is his business to parade me around on his arm like a trophy. I AM SQUIRREL, HEAR ME ROAR!

Saturday night brough back some old work alums who entertained us with their duck pin bowling skills, dancing and philsophies on "Hat or No Hat?" After a few hours of duckpin bowling and a bottle of Boones for refreshment, we headed out to Fed Hill for some late night dancing. The trifecta was in full effect even though I was not really on the road to bone city. I decided to stop at a rest stop along the way and hang out with some kids visiting from out of town. However, there is some truth in the theory that whenever you're not looking for lovin, lovin' will find you. While dancing by not on a pole at Magerks with Slutbag, this real specimen of a Lion approached and attempted to dance with us. Slutbag became apprehensive and scampered away. Not knowing what I was in for, the Lion then approached me for some butt dancing and i saw it... this was no Lion... this was a weasel in Lion's clothing! He was fat and sweaty with greasy hair and instead of dancing, he girated his body in a relative proximity to mine. Then as I was planning my escape, he began to pet my hair and stroke my head! Now THAT was a big YEEE. People, I know that I use the animal metaphor quite often, but I AM A HUMAN BEING and homo sapiens are not for petting. That is why you have cats, dogs or a fur coat!

Now on to the GSSM tip of the day. Every day I look forward to that hour away from the office when i can eat my lunch and not use my brain. So instead of eating lunch indoors (b/c clearly, I'm not going to find a man at my desk) I should walk around a busy part of town. When possible Lion prey is spotted, sit down in a cafe or on a bench and try to catch his eye. Now, this doesn't sound like a bad idea, except WHO PICKS UP MEN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY... according to the Musinator (on friday night, and this is a true statement and is not in the slightest bit fabricated, the Musinator informed me that I would be better off looking for a man once the sun went down and it got dark... thanks for the self esteem boost) I need to wait until its dark out b/c i have no hopes of finding a man in broad daylight. Also, if I were to take this advise I would be sitting in a monsoon looking for all of the other people who enjoy strolling around in a downpour (see above tirate regarding massive amounts of rain falling in the mid atlantic). I'm pretty sure that any Lion would be attracted to a squirrel who looks like a drowned rat... sexy!

I would now like to retract a statement made on last Friday's blog. Sherpa, this is for you! I do not find ALL asians unattractive. There are a select few that do make my blood boil... like that Asian guy on Lost... yeah he's pretty hot. Or my favorite turtle neck wearing, sweaty ND alum. And of course Sherpa!

And now for your viewing pleasure:


While searching for an amusing picture to attach to Jet's birthday card (Happy Birthday Jet and welcome to your mid twenties!) I found this lovely piece of photography genius. I mean... he looks so happy to be swinging on a teeny tiny tire swing. Why Hasselhoff continually agrees to do these ridiculous poses is beyond me. If you google image David Hasselhoff, you'll see what I mean. Now that is one Lion secure in his Lionhood!

Staying dry in charm city,
Anita Mann

Anchors Away

I guess it's officially summer b/c outside happy hours are in full effect (as well as skanks in cut off jean skirts and tank tops that are too small... as a member of the 'large and in charge' community, i would like to advocate the wearing of tank tops that actually fit... wearing clothes that are too small makes you look fat.)

Last night the kids from work and I went to happy hour down in Fells Point. We were supposed to go to my favorite Happy Hour destination, Little Havana, but it was closed for a private party. I was more than a little peeved about that b/c there is a rumor flying around Baltimore that Little Havana is closing. I say we should forget saving Katie Homes and start saving Little Havana! WHen I arrived in Fells I nearly soiled my pants in excitement because a naval ship had docked right there in Fells and a whole bunch of Seamen were on leave. Having lived in Baltimore, I have learned that when the Naval fleet comes to town you steer clear of the seamen. They tend to be a little skeevy and forward, but that's to be expected when you're living in an area the size of a bath tub with thousands of other men. So as I get closer to my eyecandy for the night, I noticed a common trend amongst the sailors. They were all short, with dark hair, cameras, and could speak approximately zero english. That's right, it was the Japanese Navy that was docket, not the boys from Anapolis. I cannot express to you my disappointment for the night b/c now I not only wasn't going to get any, but I wasn't even goign to get to look at any hot Naval boys. (Not that Asians aren't attractive... they just dont do it for me). So I had to settle for putting Color Me Badd on the jukebox and subjecting everyone in the bar to "I Wanna Sex You Up" all night long.

OK so onto my GSSM tip of the day. Today they suggest RSVP'ing to one of those emails my college sends out about alumni networking events. Well, considering I'm one of about 3 ND young alums in the Baltimore area, I have never been privy to one of these alleged college emails. So I'm not that upset that I cannot complete todays tip. Besides, I cannot stand those pretentious ass holes who carry around their business cards wherever they go. Guess what, no one cares that you're an Assistant Account Exective at Smith and Jones, Inc. Call me when you're at least a VP for some forture 100 company.

I have been requested to twea the Zebra theory a bit. The originator of the theory doesn't want any guys who may be reading this to get the wrong idea about what kinds of squirrels to go after. Apparenlty there are two kinds of squirrels: squirrels with rabies and squirrels who are disease free. After all, you don't want to be caught with no hoodrat.

And now i'm off to happy hour where I will probably drink my weight in beer and come home... alone... again.

Save Little Havana!
Anita Mann

The Metamorphosis

Let's talk about the fact that it is hotter than hairy balls here in Charm city today, which is doing nothing for my pheromone output. I mean, it really doesn't help when you're sweating so much that it takes over what little pheromones you actually secret. I have also learned that wearing yellow pants on a hot day is NOT a good idea. I got into my car at lunch time, sat down on my leather seats and drove off. When I got out of the car, I had to tie my jacket around my waste so as not to show the world my Swass (for those of you who don't know what swass is, it's Sweaty Ass.)

I guess this is a good time to talk about the evolution of Anita Mann's body over the last 5-6 years. Now, I think everyone can think of a time in their lives when they looked hot. I, on the other hand, can think of no such time. I guess i was kind of a cute baby with platinum blonde hair, blue eyes and super rosy cheeks. Then middle school came around (aka the "awkward years") and while my eye color didnt change, they were hard to see behind my wild and out of control perm. That's right, I said it, PERM! And let me tell you it was NOT a pretty sight. But what was worse was when it began to grow out. See, I have always had long hair and never wanted to cut it. This became quite the conundrum when the perm began to grow out and half of my hair was still curly from the perm while the other half was completely straight from the roots of my hair until about my chin. I think it's the closest look to a mullet that i had ever had. And to top off this look, I, like every other awkward adolecent, had braces. But not just your regular braces. I thought it'd be quite fashionable to get colored braces... which if that wasn't obnoxious enough, i also had hot pink rubberbands. I mean... what was I thinking... why did I want to attract MORE attention to my hideous mouth.

By high school, the perm had grown out, the braces had come off and I had worked my body into pretty decent shape from swimming and lacrosse. I guess this would be considered the time when I looked "hot". I peaked in high school, sweet. I guess this means I've let myself go and it's all down hill from here.

I think college was the beginning of the end for me. All those years of wearing braces apparently did nothing for me because my straight teeth reverted back into the crooked teeth of redneck, backroad inbreds of yesteryear. In fact, I developed a snaggletooth right smack dab in the front of my mouth. The good think is that it's on the bottom so it's not very noticable.. unless i smile or talk or do anything that requires opening my mouth. Also, with the addition of a steady diet of beer, boones and junk food I grew a spare tire, whom I affectionately call, Stewie. Stewie has a mind of his own. I liken him to my conscience. Like most guys think with their weeners, I think with my Stewie. It was by junior year of college that Stewie had grown to such immence proportions that my belly button had become the size of Cleveland and I was not longer able to wear a bikini in public.

Now that I am out of college and have a steady job, I am pretty much sitting behind a computer for eight hours a day. With this lack of excercise and constant tonnage on my rear end, I have developed Secretary's Ass. Secretary's Ass is a phenomenon where you rear end expands not only outward, but downward, sideways, north, east, south and west. I have since dubbed my Secretary's Ass: Lois. Which brings us right back to the present. It is because of Lois and the boiling heat that I am more susceptible to Swass during the summertime.

So on to today's GSSM tip. Day five requires that I take a kickboxing or weight lifting class at the gym. I am to arrive early to get a spot next to a hot guy and make small talk. I like the idea of taking a kickboxing class (maybe it'll help me get rid of Stewie and Lois) but I feel like a weight lifting class is not the best bet for me. Afterall, I have been known to rip shirts by merely bending over. I think the goal is to look like Lois Lane, not the Incredible Hulk.

I do frequent the gym however and even work out with a trainer. Now, the gym is in my condo complex so the only people who work out there, besides myself, are old people and housewives. I will say that the trainer is quite attractive (I think, the beer goggles may be in effect and I'm still waiting for a second opinion on that thought) and he's a super nice guy. Although he does have one flaw. He wears enough cologne to cover the smell of an entire fishing fleet. In fact, on more than one occassion, I have asked him to step away because the smell of his cologne was hindering my work out. I never knew why he wore so much cologne until one day he was training another resident. This was circa valentine's day and I come down to the gym wearing mesh shorts and an oversized tee shirt. Then walks in this middle aged lady wearing a juicy velour sweatsuit, black prada sneakers, a full face of make up and a botox coctail on the side. She brought the trainer flowers and candy and kept touching his arm as she flirtily laughed at his lame ass jokes. Then requested that he "help" her with her stretching. This display was so foul that it was actually amusing. Now, the sad thing is, this lady is one of about five or six ladies who come to hang out with the trainer to "work out." I call them, the Desparate Housewives and love to walk by them after I work out in all of my sweaty glory.

So I have to send out my deepest and most sincere apology to Rocco. Apparently, he was more than a little offended when I didnt consult him on getting a recommendation for my manhunt. However, being the gracious friend that he is, he still offered some advise:

I think right now it wouldn't be too tough for you to show some guy your diary and he'll hook up with youon the spot to end it. He could be king of the jungle.

My advise: Murphy's Law

When it rains it pours. So what you do is find some wasy hook up at a bar and make out with him some. He can be really drunk or kind of ugly - but still your foot is in the door. You'll get that feeling about you that you still got it and next time you go out you move up. It's like climbing a ladder.

Thanks for the advise... next time I go out I'll wear a sign that says desperate and only go for the ugly guys or guys who would be too drunk to know what they were doing in hopes that the streak will end. After all, one girl's Igor is another woman's Tarzan.

Welcome to the jungle,
Anita Mann

The Metamorphosis

Let's talk about the fact that it is hotter than hairy balls here in Charm city today, which is doing nothing for my pheromone output. I mean, it really doesn't help when you're sweating so much that it takes over what little pheromones you actually secret. I have also learned that wearing yellow pants on a hot day is NOT a good idea. I got into my car at lunch time, sat down on my leather seats and drove off. When I got out of the car, I had to tie my jacket around my waste so as not to show the world my Swass (for those of you who don't know what swass is, it's Sweaty Ass.)

I guess this is a good time to talk about the evolution of Anita Mann's body over the last 5-6 years. Now, I think everyone can think of a time in their lives when they looked hot. I, on the other hand, can think of no such time. I guess i was kind of a cute baby with platinum blonde hair, blue eyes and super rosy cheeks. Then middle school came around (aka the "awkward years") and while my eye color didnt change, they were hard to see behind my wild and out of control perm. That's right, I said it, PERM! And let me tell you it was NOT a pretty sight. But what was worse was when it began to grow out. See, I have always had long hair and never wanted to cut it. This became quite the conundrum when the perm began to grow out and half of my hair was still curly from the perm while the other half was completely straight from the roots of my hair until about my chin. I think it's the closest look to a mullet that i had ever had. And to top off this look, I, like every other awkward adolecent, had braces. But not just your regular braces. I thought it'd be quite fashionable to get colored braces... which if that wasn't obnoxious enough, i also had hot pink rubberbands. I mean... what was I thinking... why did I want to attract MORE attention to my hideous mouth.

By high school, the perm had grown out, the braces had come off and I had worked my body into pretty decent shape from swimming and lacrosse. I guess this would be considered the time when I looked "hot". I peaked in high school, sweet. I guess this means I've let myself go and it's all down hill from here.

I think college was the beginning of the end for me. All those years of wearing braces apparently did nothing for me because my straight teeth reverted back into the crooked teeth of redneck, backroad inbreds of yesteryear. In fact, I developed a snaggletooth right smack dab in the front of my mouth. The good think is that it's on the bottom so it's not very noticable.. unless i smile or talk or do anything that requires opening my mouth. Also, with the addition of a steady diet of beer, boones and junk food I grew a spare tire, whom I affectionately call, Stewie. Stewie has a mind of his own. I liken him to my conscience. Like most guys think with their weeners, I think with my Stewie. It was by junior year of college that Stewie had grown to such immence proportions that my belly button had become the size of Cleveland and I was not longer able to wear a bikini in public.

Now that I am out of college and have a steady job, I am pretty much sitting behind a computer for eight hours a day. With this lack of excercise and constant tonnage on my rear end, I have developed Secretary's Ass. Secretary's Ass is a phenomenon where you rear end expands not only outward, but downward, sideways, north, east, south and west. I have since dubbed my Secretary's Ass: Lois. Which brings us right back to the present. It is because of Lois and the boiling heat that I am more susceptible to Swass during the summertime.

So on to today's GSSM tip. Day five requires that I take a kickboxing or weight lifting class at the gym. I am to arrive early to get a spot next to a hot guy and make small talk. I like the idea of taking a kickboxing class (maybe it'll help me get rid of Stewie and Lois) but I feel like a weight lifting class is not the best bet for me. Afterall, I have been known to rip shirts by merely bending over. I think the goal is to look like Lois Lane, not the Incredible Hulk.

I do frequent the gym however and even work out with a trainer. Now, the gym is in my condo complex so the only people who work out there, besides myself, are old people and housewives. I will say that the trainer is quite attractive (I think, the beer goggles may be in effect and I'm still waiting for a second opinion on that thought) and he's a super nice guy. Although he does have one flaw. He wears enough cologne to cover the smell of an entire fishing fleet. In fact, on more than one occassion, I have asked him to step away because the smell of his cologne was hindering my work out. I never knew why he wore so much cologne until one day he was training another resident. This was circa valentine's day and I come down to the gym wearing mesh shorts and an oversized tee shirt. Then walks in this middle aged lady wearing a juicy velour sweatsuit, black prada sneakers, a full face of make up and a botox coctail on the side. She brought the trainer flowers and candy and kept touching his arm as she flirtily laughed at his lame ass jokes. Then requested that he "help" her with her stretching. This display was so foul that it was actually amusing. Now, the sad thing is, this lady is one of about five or six ladies who come to hang out with the trainer to "work out." I call them, the Desparate Housewives and love to walk by them after I work out in all of my sweaty glory.

So I have to send out my deepest and most sincere apology to Rocco. Apparently, he was more than a little offended when I didnt consult him on getting a recommendation for my manhunt. However, being the gracious friend that he is, he still offered some advise:

I think right now it wouldn't be too tough for you to show some guy your diary and he'll hook up with youon the spot to end it. He could be king of the jungle.

My advise: Murphy's Law

When it rains it pours. So what you do is find some wasy hook up at a bar and make out with him some. He can be really drunk or kind of ugly - but still your foot is in the door. You'll get that feeling about you that you still got it and next time you go out you move up. It's like climbing a ladder.

Thanks for the advise... next time I go out I'll wear a sign that says desperate and only go for the ugly guys or guys who would be too drunk to know what they were doing in hopes that the streak will end. After all, one girl's Igor is another woman's Tarzan.

Welcome to the jungle,
Anita Mann

Hump Day

Unfortunatley for me, Hump Day will entail nothing of the sort. I have come to the conclusion that this dry streak is officially affecting my mental health. I just walked by the kitchen and I am convinced that someone is cooking a steak in one of the toaster ovens. I mean honestly, who craves a delicious, juicy, medium rare porterhouse in the middle of the afternoon at work? Apparently I do and it would be pimp as hell if I whipped one up as a mid afternoon snack... hey you have to get your protein somewhere!

OK so next on the list for the GSSM is for me to make eyes at every cute guy I see, now that I've mastered seductive body lingo. Well if breaking the straps on a shirt while bending over is considered seductive, consider me Carmen Electra. This would be a decent suggestion, except that it has been so long since I've gotten any, whatsoever, my judgement has been severly, severly clouded. It's like wearing constant beer goggles and being stone cold sober. So if I'm goign to make eyes at every cute guy I see, that would require me essentially making eyes at every guy with an an appendage between his legs (and in this case, size won't matter). Now, with all due respect to the holy GSSM, my goal here is to find myself a guy, not to Slut myself out. Although now that I think about it, maybe I should Slut myself out a little. Clearly, acting like a decent respectable girl hasn't been working, maybe if I start giving out frequent flyer miles to bone city I'll have better luck.

Ok that's all for right now, I actually have to do work today.

In Sluttiness,
Anita Mann

Day Four

You are all not going to believe what day four is says. It talks about how men tend to be intimidated by girls who travel in groups (aka Zebras). Thus, it recommends goign to a bar with just two friends (aka Squirrels). When you see a guy (aka a Lion) that could be a prospect, pull away from your friends and drop the Come Hither Look. This gives the dude an opportunity to approach. Ok... well, clearly I am one step ahead of the GSSM in this case, so i guess I can take the day off the man hunt (afterall, it is a Tuesday) and work on perfecting my Come Hither Look.

So since today's GSSM suggestion has turned out to be rather lame, I thought I'd enlighten you on a new theory I've concocted in the last 12 hours or so. Last night I happened to catch MTV's newest Challenge of Road Rules/Real World All Stars who refuse to get real jobs. By some great anomoly in the world. Johanna and Wes (of the Austin cast) began dating after their show ended. For those of you who no longer watch these MTV reality shows because you have embrased the fact that you are in your mid twenties and realize that these people on these shows are merely trying to get famous, Johanna is a gorgeous young lady with dark hair, dark skin, light eyes and a pretty fierce body. How was that for a run on sentence? Wes, on the otherhand, well i think the only way to describe Wes would a less attracive version of Abe (another MTV alumni) Anyway, to make a long story short, Wes thinks he is one hot potato because he's with this girl...

I think that Wes, like many unattractive guys, is a casualty of what I have now dubbed "The Steve Sanders Complex." So I'm sure you all remember Ian Ziering's character of Steve Sanders from 90210 (one of the few characters to make it all 10 years on the show). Anyway, Steve Sanders didn't have Brandon Walsh's good lucks or charm and certainly did not have Dylan McKay's undulating sex appeal with a side of bad boy. Yet Steve Sanders had the most cocky and obnoxious attitude of them all. Are guys with the Steve Sanders Complex that dillusional to think we ladies think that this type of behavior is acceptable? I mean, maybe if you had the looks and charm to go along with that attitude, but unless a guy has the whole attractiveness package can he get away with an arrogant personality.

(Insert background music of Glory, Glory HOLElujah here) Thus, to Wes from MTV and all you other Hyenas in Lion suits out there, I officially challenge you to think about all of the girls you have met that probably weren't the best looking but walked around thinking that they shit ice cream. Then take a look at yourselves and remember that there is a fine line between having confidence and being downright obnoxious. Only you can be your own cure to the Steve Sanders Complex. Do it now before it becomes an epidemic.

Doing my part to put an end to the Steve Sanders Complex,
Anita Mann

Day Three

Well, it's monday. I apologize for not writing sooner, but I have been busy. Actually, that's a total lie, I was just being lazy by watching reruns of 90210 on Soapnet. Which, on a side note, can anyone explain to me why the only Nine-Oh episode on DVD is the pilot episode? I mean, honestly, that would be such a cash cow. I would definitly shell out the approximately $500 to purchase the entire box set! DONNA MARTIN GRADUATES!

I think we need to lay out some ground rules for the online diary. People, I am NOT a machine. I can't just spill out my thoughts on love and life at the drop of a hat! And don't judge me because I cannot perform under pressure. It's not an uncommon problem and unfortunately, there's no little blue pill that will allow me to be insightful on a moment's notice! So, let's just make a compromise. I'll promise to keep you updated often times during the week, and you guys let me have the weekend off. Deal?

Ok, so I know you are all waiting on the edge of your seats in anticipation to know how friday night went. Well, here's the story. I managed to go home after work and whip out the trifecta. It was warm out so I also dressed a tad more provocatively that normal (and by provocative, i mean I wore a tank top!) So the night was going well. Having some beers, having some laughs with friends... and then the sun went down. While bending over to pick up something that had fallen on the ground, not one but both of my tank straps broke, Incredible Hulk Style. I should have taken this as a sign that the night was taking a turn for the worse. I managed to pull and America's Next Top Model and convert my broken tank into a cute halter and went off on my merry way. So I'm already feeling large and in charge at this point. We headed off to a different bar which had more of the nighttime scene going on.

Now, for years people have been telling me that a girl who is confident will attract the guys. However, I am under the impression that this common misconception is a steaming load of horse poo. I understand that traditionally guys are the ones who are supposed to make the first move and if they see a girl who is confident enough to come up to them or at least put them at ease, they'll be more likely to find that girl attractive. It takes the pressure off of them and their fear of rejection. But here is where this confidence theory goes awry. I am fully convinced that guys do not actually want a girl who is confident, independent and pretty much together. No, that's all well and good for your average one night stand. What guys really want is to find out that the girl is even more screwed up than he is... that way he doesn't feel as bad about himself. Now if that doesn't make the male species the biggest bunch of glory holes I've ever seen, than I dont know what does.

Here's my exampe on the night. Seeing as the closest thing I was gonna get to meat all weekend was the loaf I made for dinner on Sunday night, I decided to sit back and observe the gender relations that were going on around me. This girl, who was your typical petite, thin, blonde is hanging all over this guy and pretty much advertising the fact that she had a one way ticket to pound town and she was the only one getting off. Then she turns around and I notice that she has a totally busted face (on a side note, I truly don't understand why people are attracted to other people who have amazing bodies but look like they've been beaten with an ugly stick... i mean, you still have to make out with them which means you have to get uncomfortably close to their heinous face.) Anyway, she then announces to the group she's with (I'm pretty sure she didnt know any one else in the group other than the friend she was with) that she had a piercing below her neck and wanted the group to guess where it was. After giving her the once over, I noticed that you could blatenly see the barbell in her naval through her too tight "hooker" tee shirt. I mean honestly, if she really wanted everyone (including the Lion she was seducing) to believe that she had her vajayjay pierced, then maybe she should shop in the big girls' department and steer clear of Petit Tresor.

Anyway, now that I've gotten my social commentary out of the way, here is what I have in store for day three. The GSSM says that today I must perfect my come-hither look. This can be completed in four easy steps:

Step One: Tilt your head slightly down
Step Two: With your head tilted down, now tilt your head to the side
Step Three: Look up from under your lashes
Step Four: Smile!

OK... now I've been practicing this look all day and it still has me more than a little perplexed. Maybe is the head tilt or maybe itsthe looking up from under the lashes part, but whenever I get the whole thing going at once, this is what I look like:

Now, something tells me that this is NOT the look that the GSSM was going for. I mean, call me crazy, but I'm pretty sure that this would terrify any approaching Lions so much that they would not only run away with their tails betweent their legs, but they would warn all of the other Lions to stay away from this ferocious beast.

Bone City or Bust,
Anita Mann

Day Two

Well friends, it's a glorious summer day here in Charm City. The sun is out, the birds are chirpping, and the Harbor smells of toxic sludge. Thanks to all of you who responded to my email yesterday. I have some interesting prospects.

I think that one of the biggest roadblocks on my quest for boneage would be the area in which I reside. As classy as Baltimore is, it is the STD capitol of the United States. No really, one in three people here have Syphilis (yup, that's right Syphilis, the disease that the Europeans brought over to the New World and essentially wiped out the existing Native American population). Not to mention the fact that the city is full of Jersey Guidos... mmm, muscle men with hairy chests, gold chains and hair gel... if that isnt a recipe for a man sandwich, I dont know what is (A sandwich that has a 85% chance of giving you food poisoning.) I could always venture down to our Nation's capitol to find a man. After all, one would think there would be a ton of smart and motiviated young men working on the Hill. Well, as my favorite ex swimming, vajayjay fearing, DC resident explained:

"All the good guys in DC are either gay... or wait, nope, they're all just gay. Honestly, I don't know what it is. DC is like the secret gay Mecca. They all come on a pilgrimmage like the Muslims... except instead of gathering around a big black box, the gays are horrified of any sort of box."

Now, I understand that there are many modes of transportation to Bone City, however, I'd rather have a few "Lay-Overs" along the way than a direct trip via the Butt Depot.

So, I know that many of you are anxiously anticipating what is next up on my list for Day Two on my man hunt from the Grocery Store Smut Magazine (Hereinafter referred to as, "GSSM"). Well, today I am to adpot a mantra. They suggest something like "Nothing to Lose." This is allegedly supposed to aid in keeping the dating game in perspective. Now as awesome as "nothing to lose" is, I feel that I should adopt something a little more crafted towards my own personality. I think that Mike and the Mechanics had it best in their song "All I Need Is a Miracle." However, I dont want to give off that desparate vibe, and I don't want to go with the obvious "Break The Streak" mantra. So I've decided to go with a mantra which describes me to a tea. It was a phrase once coined by a man with so much passion, he can barely contain it within himself. That's right, my mantra is "I Would Do Anything For Love, But I Won't Do That" as proclaimed by the man himself, Meat Loaf.

Seeing as it's been quite the stressful week at work, the insurance minions and myself will be heading out to happy hour tonight. So with my new mantra, the warm weather and the Trifecta in tow, I'm sure to be getting on the interstate to bone city tonight. I'll let you know how it goes tomorrow.

Doing Anything For Love (But Not That!),
Anita Mann

The Trifecta

So as many of you know, it has been quite sometime since celebacy cased its ugly curse upon me. Perhaps it is because of this curse that I have become quite lazy. I have definitly been in that "i dont care how i look" frame of mind in both my man search and my appearance. This winter I definitly began dressing for comfort, not style, and let me tell you comfort is quite unstylish. Joan Rivers would have had a heart attack had she seen the way I was leaving the house. (Fortunately for Joan, her heart, much like the rest of her body, I believe is completely artificial and made of plastic so she probably would have been ok.) When i would go out to the bars, which was very infrequently because it was cold outside and going out would have required effort, I frequently wore tee shirts. And by tee shirts i do not mean cute fitted tee shirts that cost more than most people's rent and say things like "Hooker" or had some reference to a state or ethnicity. For me, the tee shirt was the type of shirt you sleep in, work out in, or do housework in, basically why teeshirts were invented in the first place. As for the bottoms, I was a fan of my old raggedy jeans that were all frayed on the bottom, not frayed by the manufacturer, but from scraping on the ground from pure use. This tragic ensemble was usually capped off with either sneakers or an old pair of Doc Martins. Perhaps I was channeling my inner lesbian with this look or I was subconsiously thinking about swithching teams. (I guess that's just one of those questions that never get answered like Who Built the Pyramids? or Why did Paris and Nicole break up?)Thankfully, spring time arrived and i relized that I am just your regular, redblooded, meat and potato eating heterosexual. So step one was to begin to dress better, which thanks to a recent shopping trip to Chicago, I have achieved.

However, I have yet to grasp the idea of makeup and pheromones (which by the way, I am convinced I completely lack). This was all easy to fix: slap on a little gloss and spritz myself with something with an adverb in the title. Done and done.

The third and final step of my feminization would be finding a new deordarant. Insert shameful plug for Proctor and Gamble products. As you all know, I am a very competitive person. So, not being the type to back away from a challenge, I decided to take on the Old Spice High Endurance Challenge. And let's just say I lost. I fell in love with not only the sweat protection but also the smell. If I couldn't be close enough to a guy to bask in the scent of eau de dude, I could at least get a whiff whenever I wanted by just bypassing the guy and smelling like one myself. However, with my new feminine makeover, I had been advised to dump the old spice and purchase myself that is pH balanced for a woman.

And thus, in addition to dressing 'cute', the Trifecta was born: Makeup, Perfume and Lady Deodarant.

So now, in another attempt to hitch a ride to bone city, the Trifecta will be an important part of my journey.

Strong enough for a man, but pH balanced for a woman,
Anita Mann

Day One: Update

With the aid of one of the biggest small town icons around, Doppler, I just realized that I am taking my Carrie Bradshaw obession to new heights. There was a time, when the show was still on, that I ran around projecting this elite NY image, which Doppler would always be the first to remind me that I do not have sex, nor do I live in a city. Now that I have decided to diary my man hunt, I have taken this idea of a hip single woman to a whole new level, and yet clearly I still do not have sex, and I still do not live in a city (for those of you who don't know, I live in the Burbs... we'll call it the Valley)

On a positive note, within 5 minutes of sending my day one email out to various friends, I received a response back from my favorite mid-western bride-to-be. She told me about a guy who also allegedly lives in my city who may be a good prospect. Here are his specs: 1) very outgoing and loud, so he sometimes scares people (which according to her, is not much unlike myself... i dont know if i should be flattered or insulted from this comment, but i'm going to go with flattered on that one) 2)HUGE ND fan... which, in the short time since I have left ND, I also have become quite the SuperDomer. 3) Originally from Toledo (Ohio, Not Spain), PERFECTION! Now, if this guy doesn't sound like he oozes Sexy, I dont know what does. Could I possibly be taking a short cut to bone city? Only time will tell...

Intrigued,
Anita Mann

Day One

Ok, so the day finally has arrived: Day One! According to the article in the previously mentioned grocery store smut magazine, day one involves sending an email proclaiming my state of desparity. For those of you who did not receive the email, here it is:

Dearest Friends and Colleagues,

Hey, I just wanted to touch base because I'm looking to meet some men. If you know of any great single guys, keep me in mind.

OK... now i know that sounds a little odd, but, as some of you already know, I'm doing a little experiment courtesy of a very popular women's magazine as to how to find a man within a month. This is step one! So no, I have not completely lost my mind. And don't worry, in a few days I am supposed to send a follow up email to this one, sweet. You know, if only our favorite EP (our favorite "African American") or Hot Bobby lived in Baltimore as opposed to Chicago/Raleigh, clearly all of my problems would be solved.

So we'll see if I get any responses. Too bad many of my friends do not live on the east coast, so i'm not sure that a blind date/long distance relationship is the best way to start out, but hey it's better than those internet dating sites.

In other news, I have been informed by the Token Asian One that with the addition of my new 5 inch heals, that I look like a beast (i guess that's more so than usual). He advised that I not wear them out to bars and social events where the potential to meet a guy rests. (Apparently, Lions are not attracted to Amazon warriors hell bent on Slaying prey). Thanks for the advise TAO, that's one small step towards Bone City.

Hanging Loose,
Anita Mann

Zebras

I know that a lot of women wish that they could get into the heads of men to see what they're thinking, but after a quick sojourn into the mind of a male co-worker, I would advise against attempting to figure out the male mind. A few weeks ago this co-worker offered his analysis of what makes a guy want to approach a girl. He likened himself (the guy... which I know may sound questionable after you read this theory, but I can assure you, he's a dude) to a Lion. See, a Lion does not want to attack a Zebra in a pack of other Zebras. Which is a problem because it is difficult to isolate a particularly attractive Zebra away from the Zebra pack. According to this alleged Lion, Zebras only travel in packs, whether it be to the watering hole or just making their way across the plain, Zebras will not separate from the pack. Consequently, the Lion will be attracted to the Squirrel: an animal which often with one other companion or alone. This will give the Lion greater confidence in a successful attack. So what does this tell us? If you want to attract a Lion, don't travel in packs, take only one fellow squirrel to a wateringhole, but keep your guard up for any potential attacking Lions.

Note: Many times what may look like a lion can often be mistaken for a weasel or hyena. They may look powerful and a bit intimidating at first, but once you get up close you find out that they are actually lame animals who are full of crap and cannot dance

Never let your guard down,
Anita Mann

Introduction

I went on a date once. It went well, I guess. Now that I think about it, my date was in 2001 and the guy never called me afterwards and I haven't been on a date since. I guess it didn't go so well afterall. I should advise you to keep reading, please don't allow that last sentence to make you think this is a pity party. It's not. The purpose of this diary is to keep you informed on my progress. What progress you ask? Well, I am on a bit of a streak. How long of a streak? I'm sorry but we're not really there yet for me to disclose that information. Perhaps after we get to know one another (or you at least buy me a drink) I will tell you. Anywho, some colleagues have been encouraging me to break my streak and soon. However, this is harder than it sounds. When you've gone as long as I have, you forget how to get back in the game.

I should advise that the streak was not done by choice, although its not like i've been trying exactly.

In fact, a co-worker cut out an article from one of those Smut magazines about how to get a guy within a month. So of course I have decided to try some of their suggestions. (Although some of their recommendations are a tad ludacris... but hey, I'm on a streak that needs to be broken) Day one begins tomorrow. Some of you may be receiving the Day 1 results, some of you may not, but don't cry about it.

Hugs & Kisses,
Anita Mann