Baked Goods Coma

I wonder if what I write will instantly become more interesting if I use a red font. We shall see.

I'm bored and just really really bored. And I think it's the after-effects of a Baked Goods Coma. You have to be careful of that particular kind of coma. They're pretty hard to come out of, if you're not careful. The Crew and I had a baking party. Probably not the smartest move for single ladies around the holidays...gorging ourselves on flour-filled goodness, booze, and self-pity. I've been in a baked goods coma ever since...because, you know, there were leftovers...and I've been carrying them around with me. Like my own little lap dog. Only not a dog at all. In fact, that doesn't even remotely work.

So I'm in a weird spot men-wise. There hasn't been much about Law Student because despite the niceties...there were things that didn't sit well. Swell guy though...at least I thought so. Turns out he's a little odd. Which just cushions my decision...always helpful to a dweller-type person. While we were seeing each other, he was constantly leaving his shit at my place. It never bothered me...it was kind of cute really...how he couldn't seem to keep track of one of the TWO shirts that he brought up for the weekend...or the TWO pairs of boxer shorts, etc. I mean...when packing up the overnight bag...is it really so very hard to count to two when placing the objects inside? Hilarious.

So after I ended it, I thought we were still chums, hoped we were. And when a pair of his boxers fell out of my bed frame when lifting it up with my step-father (awkward), I was greatly amused. And said so in the "shall I pop these in the mail" email. To which I received absolutely no response. Ok...maybe he doesn't want to be chums. That's ok. Too bad...but ok.

That was before Thanksgiving. Saturday night...he calls...well, I can only assume drunk dials...at 1:30 in the AM. I did not answer. I was not alone. Nor was I with The Crew, we had parted ways a half hour earlier. I was with my commitment phobic Ex Sys Admin. I know. I KNOW. But he has a dimple...A DIMPLE. Besides, my bed is piled with junk currently and it was too late to go home to clean it off. And I was tired. TIRED.

Anyway, I didn't answer the phone. Missed the call completely. The next morning, I saw that he'd called but left no message. No message? Who fucking does that? What am I supposed to DO with that?

Damnit, I still haven't sent back his boxers. Well, I'll do that eventually.

On Thanksgiving I got a random and somewhat scandalous text message from Real Estate guy...you know, from back in the Summer. I stopped returning his calls months ago. What is with these guys?

Lately, safe, commitment phobic Ex Sys Admins seem as comforting as laying in front of a roaring fireplace. Which I also did this weekend.

My girlfriends and I spend hours analyzing men. What does this mean, what does that mean. We never get anywhere. We talk round and round til we're back at the beginning, which is usually the statement "What the fuck is up with men?". They, in turn, probably don't give our actions a second thought. Jerks. Equality in all things! Show some healthy levels of female neuroses, menfolk! We deserve it.

I need a muffcake.