Category: Love Stinks
I Could Never Be Your Woman
My attitude towards food has been described as odd. I’m hypoglycemic, which means I eat often or people die, but I rarely rejected a food opportunity even before I started Hulking Out. I think I’m addicted. If I didn’t eat, it would probably kill me.
My enthusiasm for all things edible does not make me a “foodie”. If anything, it’s taken me in the opposite direction. I appreciate a gourmet meal as much as the next guy, but I’ve experienced the same deep satisfaction eating a chili dog from my hometown’s hotdog restaurant.
Take Me in Your Arms
It’s OK to Hug Me…
…when you are a puppy.
…when I am drunk. Not tipsy– good and drunk.
…when I say, “I could really use a hug from someone who smells the way a donut shop smells in the early morning” and you happen to be wearing your new scent, Eau de Early-Morning Patisserie.
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I’ll Be Watching You
While trying to impress a guy the other day, I turned and asked in my sexiest voice, “Do you know which presidents were the same height you are?” (Yes. I attempted to use presidential height as a flirting technique. I NEVER CLAIMED TO BE COOL.)
“Um. No,” he said, looking at me like I was crazy, although I’m sure I don’t know why. “Do you know which presidents were the same height you are?”
“Duh,” I said. “Look at me! Don’t I remind you of James Madison?”
Scary Monsters and Super Creeps
I’m having the scariest Halloween season ever. It’s not the haunted corn maze my roommate keeps trying to get me to see (because I definitely need another weird complex associated with vegetables). It’s not the girls who literally have to tape their body parts to make sure everything stays inside their skimpy costumes. It’s not even the inhuman number of Pumpkin Spice Lattes I’ve been drinking in preparation for the long, dark, Pumpkin Spice-less time known as “The Rest of the Year”. Those things are frightening, but the most terrifying part of this Halloween– the thing that’s been keeping me up at night in a cold sweat and haunting my dreams when I finally manage to sleep– is the sudden, horrifying epiphany I had last week.
I finally figured out what makes monsters so scary.
They’re my ex-boyfriends!

And I mean monsters in the “Abbott and Costello Meet…” sense, not the Ted Bundy sense. Come on. I have standards.
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Dancing with Myself
Guess who has two thumbs, a nerdy blog, and doesn’t have to join a cult quite yet because she totally got a job?
THIS GUY.




