Newsflash: I SUCK AT LIFE!

I am a shell of a human being. Most humans enjoy other human contact. Me? Apparently I run far far away from it. So what does that make me? A deer in headlights, that's what.

On Saturday, Britt has yet another party. There was beer to be drank, pong to be played, and corndogs to be housed. I arrived fashionably late at around 8 (i'm pretty sure the festivities began around noon). I decided not to get dressed up because it was just going to be the usual people there. So I took a quick shower (didnt even dry my hair so it was a frizzy mess) and threw on a pair of jeans and an ND tee shirt and on my way I went. I played some beer pong and watched as two men humped each other in the back seat of a CR-V then went home on my merry way. Yet another fruitless night out on the town and me coming home to a cold an empty bed. Looks like the streak has no sign of breaking any time soon.

But here's my problem. As you all know, I decided to do something about the snaggle tooth in my mouth and got braces in May. They're definitly manageable because they're only on the bottom and they're clear. (No, their not Invisalign... they're braces that need to be tightened... the kind most people had when they were going through puberty). Come September 6th, however, the tops are going to go on. Yes, these two will be clear, but they will become a lot more noticable than the bottoms. Oh and did I mention the fact that with the addition of the top braces come the dreaded RUBBER BANDS?!?! Hott! So basically this means that I have less than a month to hook a guy before I become permanently and voluntarily ugly. Now those few and far between guys who are somewhat interested will only have to wait long enough until I open my mouth to either smile or talk before they see metal mouth. Seriously, you are going to have to register my mouth as a lethal weapon with all of the wiring that is going to go on. I hope TSA doesnt' give me a hard time when I go through security at the airport because I will have enough material to construct a make shift bomb just by tying a cherry stem into a knot with my mouth (McGuyver style)!

Basically, I've figured out the problem I have with finding guys. Aside from the obvious (my general mannish demeanor, my secretary's ass, oh and my ever expanding beer gut), my problem is is that I'm just down shy around members of the opposite sex. Well, members to which I am attracted. Usually, I cannot muster up the courage to even say hello to a guy. But when I do get some beer confidence, do I go and say "Hi, How are you?" No! I insult them and then resort to physical violence. I truly do not understand what makes me think that repeatedly punching a guy is going to make him think, "man this chick is dating material!" If they wanted to get punched around, all they would have to do is walk around West Baltimore with a wad of cash in their hands and wait to get mugged. Or how about when maybe I meet someone who can take a punch or two and still shows interest. What do I do then? I freeze up and RUN AWAY. And where does this all leave me? Watching Modern Marvels on Saturday nights that's where.

And I ran, I ran so far away,
Anita Mann

Clifford The Big Red Zit

I like my men like i like my jeans: tight and stone washed. I think this is going to be my new motto. Why? because clearly I need to bring my standards down from already low to 80s mullett bottom of the barrell. Hey... if you are disease free and have no visible skin diseases... give me a call.

I wish you all could see me today because I am the epitome of un-hottness. Apparently, I've put weight on since the last time I wore the jeans that I am wearing. When I put them on I had to lay down on the bed to pull them up over my ever expanding FUPA pouch. Then when I finally did get them on, I had to change out of my shirt to an extra wide and long shirt (aka one of those shirts that is really old and has completely lost its shape) so that my permanent muffin top would not be too visible. I considired putting on jeans that actually fit, but I intentionally put them in the hamper for a good washing and really... once the've been in the hamper with my sweaty work out clothes, there's no pulling them out. So what's the lesser of the two evils? Muffintop pants with a side of camel toe or smelly jeans that haven't been washed and smell like ass? Hmm... now that i look at this, I probably should have gone for the dirty jeans. To top everything off, I woke up with a giant zit this morning right smack dab in the middle of my forehead. Awesome, nothing says cute girl like a giant piece of pepperoni adhered to your face. Now everyone gets the occassional zit, but most people throw on some cover up and deal with it. Me, I've decided to embrace my zit and let him hang out cover up free. Afterall, cover up would be considered part of the make up family and I don't let any of that stuff get anywhere near me before 5 pm. So I think my zit and I are going to tough out the weekend together. Hell, it's the most companionship I've had in a hell of a long time.

Now you all know that Little Havana is one of my favorite watering holes here in Baltimore. This is true for a number of reasons including awesome mojitos, great location, easy parking and the abundance of hot men who go there. Well, scratch one reason off the list. I guess word got out that this is where I've been going to try and pick up men and all of the hot men have fled elsewhere while the uglies have saturated the place. At least the hot bartender is still there, but I'm pretty sure if he wasn't employed by the establishment, he'd have flown the coop months ago.

Has anyone seen that show on A&E, Confessions of a Matchmaker? It looks very intriguing. So the other day, Teets was trying to get me to pay a visit to one of these professional match makers. So we did a little research and found that they come at a price of $1000.00. What a rip off! I can get a decent looking male prostitue for less money. Besides, the types of guys who would acutally pay $1000 to get fixed up must all be real winners. The dating world is a scary, scary place people. My recommendation is to get out early and latch on to the first fella who seems interested.

On a personal note, I would just like to say hats off to Jeannie. She had quite an amazing 48 hours last weekend at put in bay and is someone all single gals should aspire to be. Also, Happy Belated Birthday goes out to Doppler.

Happy now Kraemer?
Anita Mann