Sad bastards are us.

If you are a relative unknown in my world, then you might be noticing a disturbing trend. I never have anything happy to say. This is not entirely true. I often say things that I find quite amusing but I’ve learned that inside jokes with myself don’t work online. Who would’ve known?

Until I create that sordid “all about me” thing, I’ll fill you in on the basics. I’m a 27-year-old “administrative professional” who would rather be a writer who gets by on endowments and/or my wealthy lawyer husband’s salary. (Notice: said wealthy lawyer husband does not exist.) I write flash fiction and short stories. Sometimes I write things of length and substance but only when I’ve suffered a blow to the head with a blunt object.

You can tell by reading this that I have a disgustingly complex vocabulary.

I’m a Christian Democrat. I’m the best friend of a Tarheel. I swear. I like vodka, rum, beer, and cabernet. I’m not drinking any goddamn merlot. The situation in Darfur saddens me. I don’t smoke. I don’t do drugs. I don’t serial date.

I like a cute boy who drives an Acura and works in a law office.

Things with which I am obsessed: Howie Day, Dave Matthews Band, David Gray, Matt Nathanson, Teitur, rainy days, snowy oceans, Maine, the coast of northern California, San Francisco, Santa Cruz, Capitola, my friends, my digital camera, puppies, old books, Oklahoma, and last but not least, Jack (see aforementioned cute boy).

For the time being, the story of Jack will remain a mystery but trust me, you’ll get a good laugh at my expense when I finally decide to share.

Things that drive me crazy in a bad way: people who apply makeup/do hair/shave on the freeway, a healthy sense of entitlement, religious Republicans, my boss leaving the parking garage door open in the evening even though I do not have a key for it on my keychain thus forcing my lazy ass to go back upstairs and fetch the spare and shut the door and go BACK upstairs to put the key away, loud cars, unnecessary honking, spitting on the sidewalk/grass/gutter/street (hi, it’s called SARS), Ryan Cabrera, and all of those Bachelor-OMGMARRYMEOMGILUVU-I’m A Star!! reality shows.

That said, my favorite shows are (in no particular order) Grey’s Anatomy, Desperate Housewives, Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, Super Nanny, Alias, Gilmore Girls, King of the Hill, West Wing.

I very rarely fancy actors. Musicians are more my type and this fellow makes me weak in the knees:

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I’m sure you’re wondering what the point to all of this is. I was in the process of posting something for almost two hours but there were so many distractions that I forgot my original intent and have now been rambling for a good fifteen minutes about nothing at all.

Have I mentioned yet that I took up knitting?

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Posted on May 10, 2005, in All about Sparkle Pants, Boys are pretty, Bullet In the Brain-Pan, Rambling, Sparkle Pants gets crafty, Writer of fictions. Bookmark the permalink. Comments Off on Sad bastards are us..

  1. I’m finding all sorts of things I need to tweak in the structure of this blog. :) Remind me to write them down so that the next time I’m procraturbating (I’m not even going to lie and say after finals) I can fix them all.

    Youuuuuuu are FAB-u-LOUS. Like um…something cool. My knowledge of appropriate similes diminishes the closer I get to May 16th. But whatever it is that you are like…it is the coolest best thing in the world.

    Becky from Roseanne has been on two shows tonight. But the one on Sex and the City is a ho-bag. She wants to name her daughter Britney.

    You are so much cooler than Britney.

    Are you READY for HER TRUTH?

    Where you lead, I will follow. :)

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