Two Schools of Thought

What's a single girl to do? I want to date, I would like to get married someday, all that. But what happens when the only guys who express an interest are guys you aren't at all interested in?

My philosophy has always been to avoid going on dates with people you're not interested in. Why waste your time and his? I know you're not my type. I know you're uninteresting to me. So let's just not go out and save us both the headache.

But then I have people who tell me I'm just being too judgmental or picky. I should go out on dates when they're offered just to see what happens.

A few times I've taken this advice and it's been exactly as I thought it was going to be. Awkward, boring, sometimes even excruciating. So I am confused, perpetually. Should I say no right off and hope that someone of interest comes along? Or do I just take the chance that someone might turn out to be interesting under the surface?

Do I follow my gut (like Stephen Colbert tells me to) or do I ignore my trepidations and get the free (if uncomfortable) dinner?

And lastly, why doesn't someone interesting express an interest in me? Why??

Germs!

I earlier confessed to being George from Seinfeld. Another confession of a similar nature is in order. I'm also a combination of Putty and Jerry in that I have an overactive fear of germs. It's not to the level of full-on germophobia (unlike Putty, I have not felt the need to go through a 12-step program for the problem), but it is significant enough that I sometimes have chapped hands from overwashing.

So, that's another of my many charms. Why am I still single??????? Ahem.

Anyway. So my primary issue with food is in the sharing with other people. Knowing that their utensil touched my food, or their fingers, gives me the willies. In the interest of being a member of society and a number of friendly social networks, however, I generally keep my angst to the inside and force myself to continue eating after the dreaded double dip. Because if people knew the full extent of my neurotica (awesome--a word I made up that sounds dirty but isn't), I would spend even more time holed up in my house.

If I may be indulged in yet another sidetrack (and it's my blog so sod off if you don't like it), my family has a current running joke (or a hypertext story, to use a term by my proffie Steve D.) about me in this category. The three of them wanted to go to Bonanza for dinner one night. Bonanza is a buffet-style restaurant, like Old Country Buffet or Golden Corral. I, in keeping with the full honesty that comes with family relationships, expressed a less than enthusiastic response. I wasn't excited about eating food touched by people whose cleanliness standards were highly suspect. My exact words were that I didn't want to eat with all the people "chawing." I don't know where that word came from, but the point is my family thought it was funny and now every time eating out is mentioned, the word "chaw" appears at least once.

Yes. So. End of sidetrack.

The point is (I think) that I am freaked out by germs, and most particularly the eating of it in social settings where I can't control the entire thing. Again, why am I still single?? I am usually able to overlook the fact that the kitchens at the restaurants I frequent are probably not as clean as I want because I can't see it back there. Ignorance is bliss. I eat out, I take that risk. Period.

Imagine my dismay, then, to read an article in the NY Times this week that discusses all the various disgusting things that can legally find its way into the food I buy. For consumption in my own home. Which I always thought I had some control over. Turns out I have no control over eating germs even with my OWN FOOD IN MY OWN HOME. Crap!

Apparently I eat rodent hairs, rodent poo, maggots, mold, and various other delights every time I open a jar or wrapper. That's just fantastic. Now I have to swear off eating even at home?? Madness.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/13/opinion/13levy.html

Read it. If. You. Dare.....

Why can't I marry Aragorn?

So, I'm trying to write a paper today to submit to an academic conference. I can't write in silence, so I decided to put Lord of the Rings on for background noise. And now all I can think about is that I really need for Aragorn to be real, for him to dump stupid Arwyn, and for him to marry me instead.

And maybe take a bath.

But not shave. I like the scruffy look.

I have such simple expectations. I really don't see how this is too much to ask.

Grammar, Punctuation, Joy

I like to write. More importantly, I like to write using proper English. I think grammar and punctuation rules are not just useful, they're also fun! As an undergrad, I took a class in copy editing, and it was one of my favorites. I consider grammar and punctuation to be the version of math that I'm actually good at: it's a puzzle, organized by basic principles that are easily learned and applied. If only math were as easy as my version of math.

Now, some will say that math doesn't have exceptions, but grammar does. Fair enough. But those are part of the fun, too. Or something. I don't know. I can't account for that. But I still think grammar is like math. So deal with it.

The point is, I found a blog through one of those Internet chains where you start somewhere you normally go on the Internet and suddenly you're somewhere completely off in the wilderness. This blog makes me happy, and I thought I'd share it. It's filled with pictures of signs and logos that misuse quotation marks.

http://www.unnecessaryquotes.com/

Enjoy. And, please, whatever you do, don't go looking through past entries of this blog for grammatical mistakes. There are none. You'll just be wasting your time. No, really.