"I have been to over six Backstreet Boys concerts." A friend told me as we discussed what the appeal of boy bands had been in the first place.
"I never saw the Backstreet Boys in concert." I told her. "But my best friend while growing-up did. She said she cried when they came out onto the stage. I laughed at her because I am sensitive like that."
I don't really have any secrets to confess. Not anything that is worth mentioning. The best I could come up with was confiding that I had taken flute lessons for 15 years. I lead a relatively tame life, there are no Backstreet Boys concerts hidden away with the skeletons in my closet. In fact, there aren't actually any skeletons in my closet, only a blow-up doll named Mr. Stud (one whom is not anatomically correct) who lost his legs in the war. He sits there, waiting. Maybe like R. Kelly, except without the golden showers for minors.
"And why do you want me to sign up for e-harmony?" I asked her.
"It will be fun!" she replied.
So I started to fill out the online profile because I do as my sister tells me to.
"What did you rate yourself for attractive?" I asked.
"A five," she said "I wanted to be modest."
"Do you think a person who rated themselves a 1 (1 stands for "not at all") for 'attractiveness' and a 1 for 'have a high desire for sexual activity' would get many responses?" I wondered allowed.
"Oooh, tough call." my sister answered.
Later on I would come to a portion of the profile survey that would ask me if I enjoyed water sports. "Do they mean water sports as in water skiing, or am I going to check off 'very interested' and get a bunch of responses from people who want to pee on me?" Even if I had no intentions of developing a relationship with people online currently, I still do not want anyone thinking that I want someone to pee on me. I will specify here and now for all of the internet that I really would appreciate it if everyone would just not pee on me. I will also specify, in case my dad has decided to read this very entry, that I am not a coke head and that you should stop trying to tell people I am. I am a heroin addict. Big difference.
I knew this would happen. The minute I no longer want something it seems to decide it suddenly wants me. Like Destiny's Child, my fish are survivors. They're not going to give up (what?). They're not going to stop (what?). They're going to work harder (what?).
They spend their days swimming around in circles and when I walk by they suddenly stop. Their eyes follow me, as I slowly make my way around the clutter of my bedroom, in a way that gives me goose bumps. I have started having nightmares in which Stephen Harper flings himself out of my aquarium and starts to suck my soul right out of my body. It's my own fault. All of it. I should have known better than to buy fish. I am not a fish kind of person. I like things that do exactly what I want, exactly when I want them to. The fish refuse to live when I want them to (even though I leave them inspiring notes about my love for them and desire for them to live), and then they refuse to die when I passively wish it on them (do not worry.. I still feed them and ensure their water is clean). Maybe I should place an add in the paper. You know.. One of those "free to a good home.. or someone who is hungry and is willing to eat tiny, domesticated tropical fish."
Yet, that is exactly what the dog delivered. A pile of hair bigger than the cat. How is it that he still has any hair left? How is it that if I ran my hand over his back right this second I would still come away with more hair? It seems so unfair that there are some dogs who have no hair at all and yet the dog is walking around with enough for two (at the very least).
Basically there is still so much brushing required that I decided to take a break tonight and start fresh tomorrow. My arms are tired and the dog is about ready to smack me upside the head.
It is made by this manufacturer.
It is times like these that I know without a doubt why I am still single.