Yep, It's Official...

It's official - I've entered middle age.

Tonight I went to my neighbor's Pampered Chef party.

Yesterday I took the two year old I babysit to swim class and Toddle Bugs.

Last week I took him to Baby Lap Sit at the library and sang a song with a puppet.

Awesome.

Problems with Unpacking @ Home

So, problem:

I have been living at home since May 23rd. I have not unpacked yet and as a result this is the chaos I live in. I will give myself a little bit of an excuse because I went to Mexico and then Vegas and then painted this room (well my mom painted it). So there were 2.5 weeks in which I couldn't unpack. But now it has been several more weeks and this is still the situation.

Let me remind you of how awful it is:

I'm not one to be messy. I thrive on cleanliness and organization. I used to line up my markers in rainbow order, each tip perfectly even with the next.

Yet for some reason I still find myself living in the midst of a space that could be confused for a Chinese flea market.

Why the lack of motivation? I suppose it's 

-1 part denial that I really am living at home

-1 part overwhelmedness at the amount of stuff that I've accumulated. Should I also mention that there's still an entirely full closet of my stuff in another room? Probably not. Oh well, too late.

-1 part I justdontgiveafuck.

Hm, those also sound like the reasons why I don't have a full time job. Eff.

Silver Lining

I realized today that although I AM single, unemployed and living at home... I am NOT single, unemployed, living at home AND pregnant.

There's always that.

match.com

Well, I made a match.com today. It started because I realized that I am single, unemployed and living at home (inspiration for the blog title). I don’t really see the “unemployed” and “living at home” changing anytime soon. So, I decided to try my hand at changing the single. The whole situation could be worse. My friend, Hannah, is U&L@H but she shares a room with her 14 year old sister. So there’s that.

So back to match.com. I was laying (lying? I’m never sure which verb tense is correct) on my bed while watching episodes of Californication (I’ll spare myself the embarrassment of saying how many episodes I slothed through) and facebook creeping when I realized I had spent the past 40 minutes looking at people in relationships. I clicked on the button that said “see friendship” and read their wall to walls and looked at pictures of them on trips to Chicago. If it was winter, the guys usually had on slick jackets that were made by NorthFace. They were typically blue with shiny tan or silver accents. The girls always looked pretty and happy. They had on cute hats with shiny hair spilling out, a coat buttoned up and boots. They held a coffee in the hand that wasn’t wrapped around their bf’s back. Their noses were pink and you could just tell that everything was right.

I don’t have any pictures like that. I have only been to Chicago once. And it was with my brother. Some guy thought we were dating. So wrong.

I was in the midst of my woe is me thoughts and getting ready to text my friend, Sam. But I stopped myself because she is always the recipient of my woe is me, no one wants to fuck me, no one wants to date me, no one thinks I’m pretty texts and I thought I’d spare her another. I decided to take matters into my own hands and check out a dating website – just to SEE what was there. 

I’m aware that many people use match.com. In fact, two people I am very close to have both found significant others using dating websites. I am still a little skeptical. It feels embarrassing, like I can’t get a real date on my own. And, I remember in high school, one particularly strange teacher had a match account and some peer of mine printed it and we all laughed as it made the rounds. The horror.

So I did the logical thing and signed up with a fake email address. It was something like jk0z@aol.com So, if that is anyone’s email address, I aplogize! I just wanted to see if there were any fish in the sea for me on match.com.

It turned out to be very anticlimactic, unfortunately. There were a handful of balding dudes, nerdy dudes, cowboys and hunks but those all looked like your typical frat boy – not my thing anymore. I DID find a high school acquaintance on the site. Still a douche. 

I came to the conclusion that match.com is not my thing. It was obvious to me in my heart of hearts that I was going to take the single road. I should buy a cat and learn to knit.

BUT THEN I REMEMBERED about a website called sugardaddie.com. Yeah, that's right! SUGAR DADDIO! I could sign up to be a sugar baby. And then upload all the hot pictures of me. THEN a sugar daddy (ie according to the site) would select me to be his sugar baby. He would whisk me off to a big mansion (taking care of living at home AND unemployed in one rich swoop), supply me with cars and clothes and a sexy tennis instructor. We'd make love maybe once on his bear skin rug and then he'd die. I'd be rich. Happily ever after, right? Totally!

Hey, if all goes well this blog might not last too long. 

*Kidding*