Only the most subtle of hints find their way from me to you

My clothing articles of choice

-This is why I'm single

Did you say... CHOCOLATE?

I was eating packages of M&Ms in bed and about an hour or two later one of them fell off of my back and onto the kitchen floor.

It was a little melty.





...I just found another one.

I am an intelligent woman.

You know when you're about to fall asleep, or browsing the internet before you go to sleep, and you're looking at watches on thinkgeek and remember that time 2 years ago when you were dating some guy and forgot how to TELL TIME?

Well guess what didn't last?

How to keep someone around.

The last time I was with a guy, I dug lint out of his bellybutton and then put a chick shaped SweeTart candy in it.

Guess who won't hang out with me now?

This is why I'm single.

Because

one of much older posts refers to my "majestically tight vagina"

I hate myself.

This is why I'm single.

Sweet sixteen.

The first time I ever touched a penis was when I had taken a greyhound to Truckee to stay with a girl I met off of Myspace who then dropped me off in Reno to visit some guy I met off of Vampirefreaks.

So I'm in bed with VF guy who decides he wants to mess around, starts rubbing at his junk under the blankets and tells me I should try it. I was hesitant and didn't know what I was supposed to do so he takes my hand and guides it to his promised land. I literally just grabbed it gently with my thumb and forefinger, panicked, and ran upstairs saying "I'm gonna go wash my hands!" because I thought you were supposed to wash your hands after?


My stepmother later forced me to mail him a hand written thank-you note for letting me stay over.

He never spoke to me again.


This is why I'm single.


(Sorry I switch tense a lot when writing.)

Because my first time in Vegas Pt. II

My friend Jen let me borrow this fantastic metallic blue and brown leopard print tube dress for Vegas shenanigans. This dress, though. This fucking dress. For some reason it had a piece of material attached only at the neck and at the bottom, forming a sort of giant pocket. The previous borrower had filled it with candy conversation hearts. Filing that information in the back of my mind, and perhaps several shots in, I decided to stuff this pocket dress full of Uncrustables before heading out to the clubs.

A dollar margarita, 2 vodka cranberries, and several stealings of Jen's vodka cranberries later, I was found clinging to the railing of an escalator, waving my plastic packaged pocket psandwiches at passers-by asking them if they would like one. I then proceeded to chase some poor man down the strip insisting that he eat it.

I don't remember anything after that.

This is why I'm single.