Sorry Fellas and Hispanic Lesbians...

I'm officially off the market. My amazing man asked to make an honest woman outta me and I took him up on the offer. Too bad, crusty old barflies, you had your chance. And all you overweight, spiral-permed mamis, this chica is taken.

You probably thought you had a lifetime of opportunities to snag a slice of this Amazonian delicacy, but you were wrong. So hitch your wagons to some other moderately attractive, severely hilarious and entertaining woman in another gay bar, dance club or bowling alley, because this one is spoken for. And don't expect me to be showing back up, ever!

Fellow Employees, You Are Welcome.

I bet you all think Walter's retirement party is going to be pretty lame. I am here to make sure that doesn't happen. Now, I'm not the kind of public school employee that shows up to a retirement party looking to get wasted and fall on the sheet cake. I'm a little classier than that. Don't be ridiculous, I'm not going to pull a "young new science teacher" and rip off all my clothes and jump into the pool in my tiny lacy undies. But, what I will do is get just drunk enough to say things like "No, I can totally drive home, I just need to chill in the parking lot for a while and remember where I live." When Paul's wife says to me "When are you going to stop loosing weight?" I will reply "As soon as my dad is done dying from brain cancer." And when Walter opens the gag gifts, I will lick my finger and insert it into the rear orifice of the blow up sheep.

I know it's not much, it isn't as cool as having sex in the bathroom with one of your wives or sisters, but it's what I am willing to do to make sure that you go home with some memorable moments from this party.

I Didn't Realize Being Judgemental Was a Job Qualification For Albertsons Employees

Oh, OK. I see how it is. I can see by the look on your face as you are ringing up my purchases that you think you are better than me. What you don't understand Miss Alberstsons Courtesy Clerk, is that this collection of items that I am purchasing from right now is not a fair representation of my lifestyle.

You see, I stopped on my way home from work to pick up a few necessities for my upcoming weekend. I can understand how eight Lean Cuisine microwave dinners, a bag of cat food and two packages of chocolate chips may come across as rations for a very sad and lonely woman. But what you don't know is that I only picked up these meals on a whim. They are on sale at more than a 60% savings. I don't eat them for dinner, as their title suggests. I take them to lunch. At my job. That requires a college degree. Something you obviously know nothing about.

And the cat food is a merely a favor I am doing for my boyfriend. You see, I don't even own a cat. In fact, I plan to use these chocolate chips to make muffins for the aforementioned boyfriend tomorrow morning, after we spend a very sensuous and romantic night together.

So there. My life isn't as sad and depressive as you believe. Some people. They have such bizarre imaginations. They just make these crazy stories up in their heads about people that aren't even true! They just assume things about people without even talking to them. God. I can't believe some people, like you, Little Miss High-and-Mighty Check Out Girl.

Let's Be a Little More Sensitive, Please?

Kids are so insensitive! They are always calling each other faggots and saying how things are gay. It's so cruel. I can't stand it. Don't they know it's wrong? When they say that it makes me want to walk up to them and scream in their stupid faces "Stop calling each other faggots, you idiots!"

I mean, don't they know how inappropriate it is to say that something they don't like is gay? They are so retarded for doing that. I can't believe that they don't realize that they are degrading homosexual individuals every time they say that. I can't believe kids can be such retards.

And I hate how boys and girls alike call each other fag, faggots, queer, joto and lesbo all the time. I'm like, hey Charlie Gordon, what are you, special? Don't you know you can't use words that describe members of the homosexual community as slurs? Even a sped kid would know that. Seriously, remember that "Tell me about the rabbits again George" guy from the Steinbeck novel? Yeah, even that guy would know it's not OK.

I'm just saying, apparently these kids missed the day at Special Olympics Summer Camp where they discussed that gay and lesbian themed insults just aren't acceptable in today's culture. I wish someone would help me get it though their giant foreheads.

So It's True What They Say, About First Impressions

Lately I've been trying to subtly convince my boyfriend that I would make a good wife and mother. I think this would be a lot less difficult if our "How We Met" story was a little different.

The night I first set eyes on my boyfriend, he had already set eyes on me from across the dance floor. My heavy eye make-up, high heeled dancing shoes and tight jeans were a beacon of hope for any single man wanting to get all up on a tall, leggy, childless woman. I didn't leave my apartment that night with the intention to make out with the first automobile mechanic that bought me a vodka tonic. Alas, there I was, licking the inside of the mouth of this man who paid for my drink and told me that he "worked on cars." Much to the enjoyment/embarrassment of the other club patrons, we worked the dance floor in the most erotic way two white people can. As a matter of fact, The only reason I didn't follow this mechanic home that very night was because I had carpooled with my roommate.

It only took a couple more awkward movie and or bowling dates for me to prove just what type of girl I was. The exact opposite type of girl you'd like to marry and make the mother of your children. Let's face it. This early on, men want an enthusiastic gymnast, not Betty Crocker.

That was more than a year ago and I'm beginning to worry that I may have not behaved in the most appropriate way possible. In an effort to adjust the dynamic of our situation, I just bought a recipe book so I could figure out how to make muffins. I hope my efforts aren't totally obvious or pathetic. Hey... Maybe I'll just bake the muffins with nothing but a g-string and my new oven mitts. Who wouldn't want to marry that?