Readership 1

Since this is my first entry, I think it is an appropriate time to share a little bit about myself. First, I am twenty-seven years old. I don�t have a serious boyfriend and I don�t have twelve cats. Not that I�m ruling out the possibility that I could become the cat lady (the old muumuu-wearing single aunt with twenty cats in a two-bedroom apartment�the other bedroom is reserved for beanie baby and Hummel collections). The important thing is that I�m not missing any appendages. Anyway, there are a few tidbits people should know about me:

I have a God-given talent for shuffleboard. I�ve only played shuffleboard once, but it was on a cruise ship (which should count for something) and I waxed my partner. Victory was bittersweet because I realized that I had missed my calling in life. Shuffleboard was my calling and I missed it just because my family isn�t British. There�s not much to look forward to after that sort of revelation, and that�s why I stay at this comma-checking gig I have at a publishing company. And no, I can�t get your book published so stop asking already.

After watching far too many true-crime television shows my brother and I have uncovered a huge problem with law enforcement agencies in America. Whenever police investigators are interviewed about a big case, they respond with the exact same sentence. This sentence has been used as an excuse in cases ranging from child abduction to minor traffic offenses: �It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.� Now, if my boss asked me where the latest manuscript was or why it was late, would �It is like looking for a needle in a haystack� work? I don�t think so. You can�t just walk off your 8-to-5 and go get coffee because there are too many boats in the marina and the serial killer could be, oh well, just anywhere. I mean, can you?

I once received a haircut that made me look like the spitting image of Rod Stewart. And don�t go asking what circa�that�s just silly. Rod Stewart has had that hair forever.

I have the kind of face that makes strangers want to talk to me about really stupid things. A man in a bar once approached me and told me that we could all have free groceries if we decided that all groceries were free. He said: �Just go in and get your Cheerios, man. They�re free, man.� He informed me that he was willing to give up his Red Bull if it meant that everyone could have free groceries. Also, he thought it would be a good idea if everyone worked four hours every day but was paid for eight hours. Then, he lit a ten-dollar bill on fire and was asked to leave the establishment.

I plan to use this site to shamelessly whore out my own fiction and poetry in order to compensate for my underpublished writing career that simply refuses to take off and propel me to certain stardom. I will not be blackmailed into posting on a regular basis or booed from the website. I reserve the right to use large amounts of unnecessary profanity and to post things that make absolutely no contribution to society whatsoever.

Three things you�ll never hear me say:

1. Yeah, but it has that cute little bud vase right in the dashboard!

2. Your look would be perfected if you shaved your left eyebrow into several smaller, disconnected eyebrows.

3. Lots of men get pedicures. No, really.