It's been a busy week. Many, many things have taken place and I am really too tired to get into it. Besides, most of what occurred is now burned in my memory for a lifetime. It's not like I really need to preserve the events with their associated emotions here so that I can look back on it one day and cringe. I really can't imagine things will become less vivid than they are at this moment.

I'm seriously considering writing about someone else at this point. Someone nice and normal (which I've lately determined I'm really not qualified to recognize), whose biggest problems are burnt toast in the morning or a dropped call on their cell phone just as they're about to tell their husband/wife that they will be a few minutes late to dinner because of all the traffic on 480. I'm jealous of that person.

I'm sure some sleep and some decent food would probably help my state of mind at this point, but with work and plans (negating sleep) and money (or, to be more specific, the lack thereof) matters mean that I haven't eaten a real meal since Saturday. I'm thankful that my work has a free coffee/hot chocolate machine for the paupers that they employ, otherwise I would have had nothing to eat or drink for the last week. I know, I'm pathetic. But I really did lose six pounds this week (not from hangover dehydration, as originally supposed) so there's my silver lining.

I'm supposed to be seeing a basketball game tonight but dude and I keep missing eachother's calls, so who knows? I usually dread these plans-involving-just-me-and-one-another-male-doing-something-together-with-no-one-else-around-sometime-in-the-evening (when I put it like that, I don't have to use the "d" word), but I think it'll be cool. He doesn't seem like the type of person who, ten minutes after getting me alone, will ask if I can show him my underwear or propose that I give him a full body massage (oh yeah, welcome to my life).

Of course, we must always leave ME room to make an ass of myself. This usually involves me accidentally sticking a straw up my nose when I'm talking and going to take a drink or falling down stairs or spilling something on myself. Someone I work with at the restaurant told me the other night that half of my charm was my utter lack of coordination, but somehow I haven't managed to see the whole thing as an asset.

(OK...my cynicism has just been nixed a little by the highly amusing phone call I just received from the guy I'm supposed to go with. He made me laugh...today...well, I'm impressed.)

Better'd get moving. I need to prepare myself for all of it: sports (iffy), beer on an empty stomach (always a good idea...ok, not really), and assorted highly expected displays of clumsiness.

Sure, I hate being single, but until the perfect person for me just knocks on my door and presents himself, I guess this is what I have to look forward to.