from the dept. of i-wish-i-were-making-this-shit-up:

Obviously, one of my dance partners last night was too smitten by my beauteous visage to think coherently...

Him: "Hi, I'm Drew."
Me: "Nice to meet you. I'm *insert Christian name here*"
Him: "Oh, that's a cool name. Is it Hawaiian?"
Me: "Actually, it's Greek."
Him: "Haha. Close enough...Greece and Hawaii are both islands."
Me: "Yeah, umm, no, no they're not."

I just checked my oil, for the first time in a good long while. Nestled in the engine was a comfy looking nest of fur, and some mouse droppings. Hmm. Well, I've always wanted a hamster-powered automobile...

This song is sung for anyone that's listening
This song is for the broken-spirited man
This song is for anyone left standing
After the strain of a slow, sad end

It seems everybody wants what someone else has
There's sorrow enough for all
Just go in any bar and ask
With a beer in each hand and a smile in between
All around's a world grown mean

We've all had our ups and downs
It's been mostly down around here
Now this whole damn mess is becoming quite clear

Looks like we're all looking for a life worth livin'
That's why we drink ourselves to sleep
Yeah, we're all looking for a life worth livin'
That's why we pray for our souls to keep

There's nothing left now but broken pieces
Of one man's broken will to care
And in the end before all is said and done
How many others might follow him there?

This song is sung for anyone that's listening
This song is for the broken-spirited man
This song is for anyone left standing
After the strain of a slow, sad end

Midnight is comin' 'round
Still mostly down around here
Now this whole damn mess is becoming quite clear

Looks like we're all looking for a life worth livin'
That's why we drink ourselves to sleep
Yeah, we're all looking for a life worth livin'
That's why we pray for our souls to keep

- Uncle Tupelo, "Life Worth Living"

My friends and I have conversations along these lines all the damn time:

"I just don't understand....I have a fairly high standards of personal hygiene."
"Me too."
"I have childbearing hips."
"My limbs could be described as, umm, sturdy. Capable of supporting many baskets of potatoes!"
"I don't own any cats."
"I don't subscribe to bridal magazines."
"I don't have an ex-husband."
"All my ex-boyfriends are the nonviolent, nonstalker type."
"I'm into kids. But not TOO into kids."
"I can cook. Scrambled eggs, that is. But I can cook."
"My domesticity, while sporadic, is unrivaled."
"I can kick anyone's ass at Tekken 4."
"I'm not a manipulative psycho hose beast."
"Oooh, me neither. Although, they do seem to have more luck."

....

Anyway, we continue in this vein for a while, and end with "SO WHY ARE WE STILL SINGLE?!?!"

(this is more fun and less pathetic than it sounds)

my point exactly

edit: I think that, as far as things-which-will-warp-children-for-life go, cross-dressing cartoon characters are very far down the list. I mean, I grew up watching Monty Python (which, for the innocent in the audience, is rife, RIFE with hairy men in women's clothing), and look at how well adjusted I turned out to be (err). Spongebob Squarepants is unspeakably innocuous compared with Graham Chapman in a bikini. Oh, and another thing:

I want to be a woman. From now on, I want you all to call me 'Loretta'.

What?!

It's my right as a man.

Well, why do you want to be Loretta, Stan?

I want to have babies.

You want to have babies?!

It's every man's right to have babies if he wants them.

But... you can't have babies.

Don't you oppress me.

I'm not oppressing you, Stan. You haven't got a womb! Where's the foetus going to gestate?! You going to keep it in a box?!

- Monty Python's Life of Brian

I'm grading the sixth grader's autobiographical essays tonight.

Entries range from the surreal:

My dog Ashely hates black because it is a mysterious color to her. One day I wore black pants and she bite me on my leg, and I never wore black with her again.

to the tragic:

I crashed [while riding my bike] into the gate of the drive way and when I crashed it hit my face. So my teeth got pushed up into my mouth. When my mom saw she gave me a towel to put on my mouth and drove me to the doctors office.

When I got there they took me to the emergency room to take out the teeth but they werent there. Later that night my teeth fell out of my mouth into my hands.

to the incredibly detailed:

This morning I heard my alarm and thought for some reason that it could turn off by itself. I got so mad because it would not turn off so I rolled over, opened my sleepy, angry eyes, relized I was dreaming, and hit the snooze button. Then seven minutes later it went off again. I hit the off button and got up.

just cause she dances go go / that don't make her a ho, no

I heart dancing. Dancing is the great equalizer. It doesn't matter whether you are young or old, short or tall, thin or pudgywudge; on the dance floor, all that matters is rhythm and soul. The sixty-seven year old guy wearing ridiculously high waisted pants and tennis shoes is, most likely, a bigger pimp daddy on the dance floor than the all the immaculately groomed twenty-something guys combined.

In addition, dancing is one of the few social situations where I get to interact with boys my own age without worrying about whether they use "there" when they mean "their" on a regular basis (and/or misuse apostrophes).

My romantic prospects would be far more numerous if I weren't such a grammar snob.