My big fat Greek wedding?

One of my co-workers, Sylvia, has talked me into going with her to the Greek Festival at her church this weekend. She is convinced that all I need, is to find a nice Greek boy to relieve me of my bitter singlehood. I tried to tell her that the last nice Greek boy I was supposed to go out with stood me up (and thank god he did, because after he stood me up, I saw pictures of him posing with his BOWLING BALL). She says that he could not possibly have been a full Greek, and that I should spit on him and give him the evil eye.

I just want to eat some spanokapita and orzo salad. I don't want to find the man of my dreams.

Ok, I do, but I am not counting on finding him at the Greek Orthodox church.

Besides, I've got my mind on other things in other places.

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And, speaking of men, I (along with some other chicks here) decided a few weeks ago that casual-no-strings-attached-sex doesn't work for me anymore. It got pretty old.

Goddamn maturity.

And wouldn't you know, since I've decided this, that fucker Jason has called me to come over EVERY DAMNED DAY. But I resisted. And it wasn't easy, either.

Damn him.

And, since I've come to this decision, I have no earthly idea when the next time a man will be naked in my house and let me do dirty things to him. These entries may get even more bitter and cranky than they already are.

You've been warned.

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I saw this in another diary as the meme-of-the-week, and decided to steal some of the questions. It was interesting to think back on these times.

Ten years ago - In 1995, I was working for the YMCA doing childcare. A job that would end up being my favorite job, but the pay (and the shitheads I worked with) was so lousy I couldn't afford to stay there if I wanted to live on my own, and I can't handle roommates. So I left that job, and became a nanny for kids that were in the Y program with me, making more than twice as much as I did there, and working half as much. It was a nice set-up for a while. I started hanging out at the Irish bar that I would spend the bulk of my 20's in, loud, drunk, and screaming things like, "Fuck off, you stupid cow!" and "In America, we say 'aluminum' NOT aluminium'!" I also heard the phrase "Watch out, Andria's been on the piss all day" more times than I care to admit. I also sang way too much of the song "Who the fuck is Alice?" (I think that's the title, anyway) at that bar. I was also with X, pretty deliriously happy and in love, thinking (as all girls do) that it would last forever. Ha! It ended abruptly and extremely bitterly (for me) three years later.

Five years ago - I had just started working at My Company, thanks to Celestia getting me in (the one thing I am thankful for). I had moved out of my old apartment (which, oddly, was in the middle of the building, and had no windows that looked outside. They only looked out into the hallway, or into the other center apartment across from mine), which was on the second floor of a building with the biggest goddamned flight of stairs I've ever seen. I left that apartment because I was "advised" by the policemen that worked in the substation across the street from my apartment that moving would be best. The bitch that owned the dollhouse store beneath my apartment bitched at me about parking on the street, taking parking away from the hordes of dollhouse shoppers. One day, pissed to see my car there, again, she put red paint all over my blue car. I flew off the handle, ran into her store screaming and yelling, calling her a bitch, and a vindictive cunt, and all the other fantastic four letter words I could think of. Since I had no proof of anything, and her business wasn't going anywhere, I moved. Thank god. That stupid fucking store is still there, and I have pondered many times giving Mr. Big Shot's junkie son twenty bucks to go vandalize it. But, dammit, I am an adult now.

That, and I'm too cheap to give him the twenty bucks.

One year ago - Wow. One year ago, I had my first consultation with my surgeon, and began the arduous process of getting approval from my insurance company, as well as undergoing EVERY medical test imagineable to make sure I could withstand the procedure. It was a depressing day, because I had to step on the scale to get a starting weight, and when I saw that number, I literally cried. I never, ever imagined that I would let myself get that heavy. I was seeing The Hot Egyptian somewhat seriously, though I knew it would never go anywhere because his daddy would cut him off if he brought home anyone but an Egyptian girl. He's hot, but he's a pussy. I can't handle a grown man being controlled by his parents. I also started this diary almost exactly one year ago, not having any idea that people would actually read it. And what's even better, it's people that don't suck, aren't 14, and aren't morons.

One week ago - Well, anyone that reads this diary knows what I was doing a week ago.

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TGIF, kids. Enjoy your weekend.