Even Billy Crystal has a Purpose
So, I don't know anyone here, but I suppose that's the fun of it: exercising your right to blog with people who share one common bond: estrogen. I seems -- likely the rest of you have also recognized this -- that as the years dwindle on, female camaraderie tends to do the same. (Though Ms. Razer is, respectfully, one exception -- I'm sure she too knows where I'm coming from).
Hi, I'm Kenoki!
On to my first post!
I'll start with giving advice, as I've conditioned myself to believe that it's my one purpose in life. If I can't dance, can't sing, can't play my own instruments (*any* of them, if you catch me), can't spell, nor can I walk in one purposeful direction without tripping -- I can at least inform the public how to avoid being a cluster-f__k. I've an exceptional track record of consistent failure in varying degrees -- so why not let the ladies (and gents) in on how to avoid it? If nothing else, I've earned that license.
So here it is: Miss Apple - If diving for muffs ain't your thang, try watching "When Harry Met Sally" in succession for three strait days. I did it once, upon the recommendation of The Republic of My Brain, and as a result the post-break-up effects left only laughter, sighs and relief. Nothing warms the heart more than knowing that, if nothing else, at least I never dated Billy Crystal.
I've also found it a horrible idea to date anyone who so much as has e-mail. Or furthermore, who can make any computer program function other than MS Word. Although my boyfriend is mostly redeemable for being a little smart and kind of charming, I love him most for knowing absolutely nothing about computers.
And if that doesn't work, then sweetheart, grab the best bottle of bourbon you can find, and have at it.