have thong, will travel
August 13, 2003, 1:33 am

I have reached an all-time low as far as the man hunting.

I just spent 20 minutes looking on the list of attendees to JournalCon and clicking on all guys' names, trying to see what kind of booty I could possibly grab while there. A good chunk of them are married (and don't you dare say that "it's never stopped you before" or I swear I'll pop you in the jaw). I don't know enough about the rest of the gentlemen to decide if they're bang-worthy or not, but it looks as though there are a lot of chicks in attendance that may or may not be vying for their affections, too.

This is not healthy. I blame Samantha.

Of course, the journaling guy population is not the reason I'm going to JournalCon; I'm really going for the booze...and to meet Weetabix and Sundry and to get some good ideas. Are you going? Let me know, okay?

In other exciting news, tonight as I came home from a scrapping evening (don't laugh), I checked my voicemail to find a slur of unintelligble prattling from which I could decipher the following words "birddog", "stateside", and "alrighty". I thought it was Brettski, but then checking the Recent Calls section, I discovered it was none other than...CNET! Oh frabjous day, calloo, callay! I'm chortling in my joy!

He's back in the U.S. after his weeks long tour of Europe. I called him back; he answered, "B" with a lilt and a sigh so charming I felt my stomach doing flip-flops.

"B," he said in his sleepy boy voice, "I am so excited to talk to you, really. I missed you so much this summer, but if I don't pass out for the next twelve hours, I'm going to go crazy. Wait, are you back in town?"

"Yes," I said.

"Then we're hanging out tomorrow."

"Wait," I stammered, "I have to--"

"We're hanging out tomorrow. Goodnight, B."

And he hung up.

Be still my heart. CNET! CNET! Missed me so much this summer! I am all aflutter. This calls for...a bikini wax! Well, maybe I will have it done. It's time for another, and despite my last experience, this one may be better.

Yeah, right. (cue appropriate Wayne's World quote to convey disbelief...go on...you know which one I'm talking about...about the monkeys and butts...there, was that so hard?) I'd sooner stick my twat in a meat grinder than go through that seventh level of Hell again. NO THANK YOU. Smooth and sexy it may be after a good 48 hours of redness and stickiness and ouchies, but man, why the hell is that necessary in life? NO THANK YOU!

I do have a date next Thursday, though. And I'm not saying I'm going to get any, but you know, you never know. He did promise drinks. And dinner. And foxiness.

Dammit.

Being a chick is hard work.