I swear, I will find time to update this blog. There's nothing like shameless self-deprecation. I highly recommend it -- very theraputic. Puts you in zen mode.
Regressing... I had a fantastic weekend: deadening the mind with Hollywood crap for movies, and snacking on delish-gossip, theories on self-loathing and boys, spinsterhood ( or single-blessedness, as a dear friend puts it) and law-skul boys for options. Frankly, I've had a full week. I might stave off weekend plans for an entire month.
Seriously.
It's weird, but I easily get put-off by too much fun. It must be innate...in the genes, or something. But I get overwhelmed by too much activity. Whatever. Must be the Golden-Girl feeling its way out of me.
Nywayz, my dear friend Gae left this thought-provoking adage to explain the greatest mysteries of the universe: why we are still single.
It's very Cofucius. Funny, but wise.
She says, the reason why no guy has ever had the guts to talk to us is because: " He (potential guy) would not only worry what he'll feed us (on a date) but also whether the food we'll be eating will match the bag, the dress and the shoes we'll be wearing."
Though I've never taken myself to dress for a date, still, it get's you wondering.... maybe I am A, never B, but never knew it? Hmm... cryptic mode again.
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