i say a little prayer.

pretty much every night i say a prayer. it usually starts with the normal pleasantries. “hey there God. what’s the good word? oh. ya. duh. you’re Bible thingy. any-who, just wanted to say a prayer…”

after the hello’s (me to him, not him to me (I’m not crazy)) I pray for everyone I can think of. (my immediate family, my extended family, my friends, my enemies, the two dogs in my life and my boss.), I try to think of something I’m thankful for (awesome living arrangement, not getting fired that day, my crackberry, that it didn’t snow that day…).

and then I pray for me.

it usually goes something like this: ‘and seriously God, I really, really want to fall in love,”

is that weird? is it strange that I pray for that kind of thing? that i pray that I’ll find someone I can have children with? and be married to forever?

i pray for it because the concept so alludes me that i feel the only one who’s got ANY control over any of it is God. don’t misunderstand, im not throwing myself at any guy that breathes. im not desperate. im not sitting here waiting for someone to want marry me. I’m not even worried about the fact that so many people assume something must be wrong with me if i’m single.

i just want love. plain. simple. love.

and normally, i’m all, “God knows what he’s doing. God will answer my prayer. Ask and ye shall receive….”

but I’m feeling a little bitter lately because, well, i thought that I had found the answer to my prayers a few weeks ago. i had met THE most amazing guy at a party. and i started to believe in love at first sight. and the only way to describe the moment was as “an answer from God, to me.”

but alas, that’s not the case.

and I KNOW God is all about the working in mysterious ways stuff. but im starting to get a little frustrated. and i HATE when people say, “if it’s meant to be, it’ll be.” because that’s lame. I don’t want to not have kids because God doesn’t want me to for some “MYSTERIOUS” reason. i happen to think i’d be a pretty darn, tootin, good mom. (and for that matter good wife).

so i just wanted to vent to you guys about all this, because it’s not like I can shoot a passive aggressive e-mail to the Almighty. i just have to suck it up and say another prayer.

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loving the roomie

yesterday there i was chillin like an awesome person at applebee’s with a reporter friend, when this guy i know shoots me an e-mail.

which i of course read on my crackberry. (see: addicted to phone).

but it’s not the best of e-mails. (let’s just say, one of the lines was: “I’m going to have to commit to just being friends with you right now.”)

frick!

seriously?

this is the kind of thing that can ruin a girl’s fettuccine. (which it did).

but I pulled myself together long enough to pretend like I hadn’t just gotten a totally awful e-mail, I finished my dinner and my night and found myself in my car.

and I cried.

and I didn’t think I would cry about an e-mail like this from this particular guy, but i guess it was the finality of the whole thing. and i was worried that I was going to cry myself to sleep that night. while i consider the fact that i will never have children. or a husband. or be happy. and that nobody will ever love me.

but when i got home, my awesome roommate was there.

and i told her about the e-mail. and she let me vent. and then she totally sat on the couch with me while we called said guy a schmuck, while thinking of reasons I’m too awesome for him anyway.

and i felt better.

so here’s to my new roommate!

go you.

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fly me to the moon

so there i am on my daily trip through the taco bell drive through. “la. de. da. hmm. should i get the seven-layer burrito again today? duh. of course i should.”

i shout my order to the woman behind the fuzzy intercom and i pull up to the first window to pay. I’m greeted with a 50-ish woman who looks a little disheveled.

her: “what the heck is that noise? is that your car making that noise?”

me: “well, yes. i think it might me.”

her: “it sounds like a spaceship! you better get that checked out. it might blow up or something.”

me: “ya. i guess. so.”

me in my head: “listen lady, you’re freaking working at taco bell and you’re trying to tell ME to spend my hard earned money on car repairs? seriously? leave me alone. it’s not THAT bad and besides, I totally just got my freaking muffler fixed. imagine what my car sounded like BEFORE!”

the end.

p.s. i’m suddenly a little worried that my car will blow up.

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