I've had the time of my life.

Well, it seems a couple more diarists have gone public with their budding romance.

I really am the last one to do anything.

Are blog sites the new singles bar? If so, I need to get all you whores off my favorites list and fill it up with single men. Ok, married men, too. At this point, I will consider everyone.

So who wants to be my online boyfriend?

Anyone?

…

Anyone?

…

Bueller?

…

Bueller?

Goddammit.

I guess I am just going to have to go back to putting out for random guys that answer my personal ad.

I wonder if that bowling ball guy is still available.

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My date with RAM Friday was fun. And more proof that that kid is way more swishy than any 5 year old boy should be.

We kicked it off with a gourmet powdered-cheese feast of macaroni and cheese and Cheetos (Britney and Kevin aren’t the only hipsters that are down with Cheetos), followed by my usual lesson in musical appreciation. As I mentioned before, I got the kid totally hooked on Bob Marley, so I decided to take it to the lower end of the quality music spectrum, and we listened to some 80’s hair metal (which I LOVE, by the way).

We started off with Poison, then some Skid Row, and my very favorite metal band, Motley Crue. Oh, how I love the Crue.

After he jumped around on my furniture like a little head-banging maniac, I told him to pick a dvd to watch. He loves Caddyshack, and we watch that one almost every time he’s over, but this time, I was really shocked by what he picked.

I can’t believe I am about to admit I have this movie on dvd. Oh, who cares… every girl that reads this diary has seen this movie a million times, too. It’s good shit.

He chose Dirty Dancing.

Dirty fucking Dancing.

“How come you want to watch that one?”

“I don’t know. I want to see the guy dance.”

“Alright then. I don’t want to be there when you tell your Dad this is what you wanted to see.”

So we watched the movie, and he was mesmerized by the dancing. He literally did not take his eyes off the tv. When it was over, he looked at me and said, “That guy was a good dancer, TT. His shirt was tight.”

Um.

Ok.

The next day, Kay called me. “Why is my son singing “Girls, Girls, Girls?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Maybe [DMX] took him to a strip club. That’s where I always hear it.”

“You let him listen to Motley Crue, didn’t you?”

“You never said I couldn’t let him listen to Motley Crue.”

“Jeez, did you let him watch porn, too?”

“No, but when [DMX] finds out what he did watch, he’ll wish it was porn instead.”

“What was it?”

“Dirty Dancing.”

“Oh fuck. Don’t tell him he watched that.”

I also taught him how to dramatically point his finger in someone’s face and say “nobody puts Baby in a corner.”

If he’s going to be gay, he may as well be theatrical.

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I am back in Celestia’s good graces today, because, as proof that I am not an asshole ALL the time, I burned a bunch of cd’s for her.

See... I am a nice person.

Mostly.