Andria's a big drooling idiot - Part Deux

As I talked about a few entries ago, I have a thing for firemen. And, for whatever reason, the city I live in only seems to hire hot men in their emergency assistance occupations. Cops, firement, EMT's, paramedics - ALL HOT.

So, imagine my glee when I showed up at the hospital yesterday so they could take eight gallons of my blood (I am not kidding - eleven viles, people. ELEVEN), and I saw a bunch of EMTs and paramedics cleaning out their rigs in the ambulance bay, which happens to be conventiently located right next to a bench, a fountain, and some flowers. So I looked at the time, decided to make myself late for my appointment, and sat down on the bench for a few.

I took my cell phone out, because I didn't want to look like a horny, under-sexed stalker (even though that's clearly what I am). I dialed Kay and started chatting with her, all the while staring (probably with drool running down my chin) at these hunky men twenty feet away.

And speaking of my rampant horniness, I think I am going to have to re-think the "no more casual sex Andria" policy I've enacted. Because of my lack of sex, I've been craving (and eating) chocolate like a lunatic. And, well, the scale wasn't quite so friendly the last time I went to the doctor, so... I have to have sex.

For my health.

Who's with me?

Anybody?

Anybody?

Bueller?

Bueller??

Dammit.

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It's a sad day, gentle readers.

I'll tell you why. Next Thursday is the last "Being Bobby Brown." I don't know what I'll do with my two favorite crackheads gone from my television. Last night may have been the best episode, because aside from their blaring (and scary) rendition of "Born to be Wild," there was some creepy wrestling going on, not to mention the absolutely DISGUSTING appearance of Bobby's bare feet, which look like something I've never seen - or ever wish to see again.

God bless those two junkie lunatics.

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I got a reply from my ad on matchdotcom from some biker/actor/weirdo guy who's interested in me. So, upon looking at his profile, I scrolled down to what kind of girl he likes. This proves the theory that Chickpea(and, go read her if you're not already. She's six kinds of sassy, my friends) and I discussed one day that men do NOT read the profiles on these dating sites. They just see a picture they like, and click on it.

Because you know what his biggest turn offs are? Sarcasm, girls who cuss, and loud, outspoken women. And the kind of girls he likes? Quiet, demure, sweet types that act feminine and lady-like.

Hmmmm... now, granted, I don't scream and curse on my profile, but it clearly says I have a dry, sarcastic, raunchy, silly, sense of humor. And, in the section of crap I have to come up with myself, I mention about FIVE times how sarcastic I am, and how my sense of humor is my most noticeable trait, and that I am shy at first, but do tend to be outspoken around people I am comfortable with.

GodDAMN is dating a pain in my ass.

I don't heart being single.

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Thank god it's Friday.

That's all.