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My friend and fellow member of the Double D gang (yes, it is exactly what you think. A group of girls that have big boobs and occasionally meet up to drink whiskey), Courtney, today introduced me to my new favorite writer, Laurie Notaro.

Courtney and I were on our way to the big bicycle sale in Aurora because we thought if we bought bikes that we would ride them to bars and restaurants, thus getting in our workouts as we head to our favorite activities. The problem is that we are so lazy that once we got 1/5 of the way to the bike sale (in the car) we bagged the idea and went to the mall instead. At the book store is where Courtney suggested I read some of Notaro’s books, suggesting that this stupid blog reminds her of these extremely witty and addictive pieces of literature.

I got home and immediately crawled into bed (at 2pm) to begin my assigned reading and avoid the massive pile of work looming over my head like a persistent stalker that can’t take no for an answer. Holy shit, Notaro is hilarious. And I think she might be the married version of me. She even writes open letters to the cable company and has unwanted rodents in her house. You all should check her out instead of reading my mindless drivel.

I’m trying to find a hobby and creative outlet. I’ve been feeling really creative lately but I have this nasty habit of not finishing anything. I have three scarves half-finished in my “knitting basket”, I stopped each one when I had an imperfect stitch. One is for my lovely niece who excitedly picked out her pink yarn during Thanksgiving so Crazy Aunt Jen could knit her a scarf for Christmas. I’ll shoot for Easter but it’s a stretch. I went through my art box the other day and found 7 sketch pads full of unfinished drawings that I quit as soon as one scratch had the incorrect perspective. During that moment of discovery I also found a sketch I did of my ex-boyfriend, Freddy. Wonder if I ever showed it to him. It’s pretty good. Maybe I’ll just hang it on my wall for the next time he comes over to fix something in my house. See if he notices. I recently bought a sewing machine but just don’t have the patience and I don’t know how to temper my foot on the pedal.  As Brie put it, I’m either going mock ten or crawling, which means my stitches are all over the place and the bag I made last night looks like old man’s pajamas. I even have four unfinished novels. I think next I am going to try photography. You snap the button and then you are done. You can’t not finish photography right?

Meanwhile, my friends are helping me plan out my man tour. You see, when I broke up with Freddy back in 2004, I went on a mission to visit exes and boys that got away in various cities across the US. Not sure how it materialized. I guess it was some version of sewing wild oats after being tied down for several years. We called it the 2004 tour de whore. Because I’m feeling nostalgic, we are working on something similar for 2011. So far California, Kansas, Nebraska and New York have made the list. I’m bringing a wing man on all of my trips. I wonder if I could get someone to sponsor me…

I’m open to suggestions on what to name this year’s tour. It’s tough to rhyme with eleven.


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