Just Call Me Myrtle, Because I Am About To Moan...

Clever title, right? I'm full of hilariosity.  Honestly, I don't know how I live with myself.

But today isn't going to be all sunshine and roses and me being hilarious and bringing humor into your lives like a humor-bringing thing.
No. Today I'm going to moan.
If you don't like moaning, the exit is, quite literally, the X at the right or left of your screen, depending on the brand of computer you have.

Ready? Are they gone?

....

Good. If they are gone, I don't love them nearly as much as I love you all.  Honestly. I love you all much more than them.  Muchos kisses mi smallus amigos. (And I say that I'm in Spanish 3. What a laugh and a half.)

So let me tell you my story.

I have this issue where I was all high and mighty and didn't like anyone 'like that' for I want to say four years, which coming from a teenage girl, is like saying I've been a virgin lesbian monk for 79 years and that I have a beard and a moustache and I live in a cave in the Himalayas.

....

Obviously none of that is true, besides the bit about me not liking anyone for four years. But that is what I'm trying to get at. I haven't liked anyone for four years, which is nuts. My friends liked guys and fell out of like with guys and I was like their proverbial rock in the storm. They clung to my apparent freakish non-normal self because I had a clear head. That is clearly a lie, but I apparently offered the best advice on relationships, which is hilarious and ironic because I've never been in one. A relationship that is. Saying that I was going out with a guy for fifteen minutes in the sixth grade doesn't count.

Anyfloozle, this year I met a guy. Shocking beginning to the tale, I know. Like I said, I'm not a lesbian monk. But I met a guy. And he is really, really cool. And I guess it is a good thing he doesn't know that I have a blog, because then he would find this and he would know it was about him. And he would get a big inflated head and that is the last thing that I would want to happen. It's already inflated enough. But that's one of the reasons I like him, odd as that may sound.

I met him talking at a marching band parade. The first conversation we ever had we talked about how me and my friend Elliese have penis envy and we want to have one for one day only for the sole purpose of writing our names in the snow. This, ladies and germs, is what me and my friends think about. But he was funny. And we got to talking more. And, the blossom of LUUUURRRVVVE began to grow.

But then, the pruning sheers of horrible comments appeared. He said that he was like my brother. And I was all 'Suuuurrrreee!' and I said it with that horrible fake smile that feels like it has been plastered onto your face.

Then the flirting started. And there was a lot of it. I knew he was flirting with a lot of other girls, but me being vair vair pathetico, I thought I was different. So I kind of told him that I liked him. And then things left the Valley of the Casually Okay and entered the Mountains of the Majestically Awkward. We didn't talk for about a week and a half. Which, for those of you who don't know, is about seven years in teenage girl time.

So I wrote him a note like the romance novel heroine that I am and now we're friends again. But he's trying not to flirt with people anymore. Which sucks because I love hugging people. (I love hugging people. I love hugs. I will literally hug anyone. I don't care if I haven't known you that long, I will hug you.) And in trying not to flirt with people he's moaning to me about it.

And now I'm moaning to you. It's like the big circle of MOAN.

Or a pyramid of moan, since you can't moan to him about me moaning about him. Or if you can, please don't!

....

Wait, I didn't tell you his name, and as far as I know, none of you know him, so I'm in the free and clear!

Woopdedoo and PANTS!

Okay, moaning/storytime over. I just used all of you like a diary.  Keep these secrets I have told you until you are cold and in the grave. And like Andrew Marvill said, you can't date in the grave. Or, well, Marvill didn't say that. He implied it though. I had my English midterm today - can you tell?

I feel like I've wittered on enough, like a wittering thing meant to witter away.  I'll let you get back to your lives. They are probably much more interesting than mine.

Parting joke:

Two chemists walk into a bar. The first guy says to the bartender "Hey, I'll have some H2O!" The second guy goes "That sounds good. I'll have some H2O2."
The second guy died.

Love and kisses,
Jen