Okay, I Admit, I'm Shallow...

See this guy? Jason something another? I watched the Bachelor for the first season or two. And when Trista with the pink twinkie, or whatever, got hitched to the firefighter. I hate to admit it, I watched. Then I got sick of all the bachelor/bachelorette hoopla. The girls acting entirely too goofy and mean made me take a break for several years. Then I heard THIS something another's story. For a brief moment or two, I thought he was quite fetching. He has a story. Girls love stories. True or not...

After last night's show, I wanted to puke. I wanted to poke ink pens in my eyes and scream, "I want to watch golf circa 1974!" Hoping the hubby would come rescue me. Wiling desires of golf tournament reruns would surely catch his attention. Then I remembered, he can't hear too well. So I didn't poke my eyes out and admittedly, I did not turn the channel. It was like a deadly car accident in front of my eyes. Only this accident still contained living gonads.

What is wrong with people these days? I'm not sure if ole Molly will give him a chance or not. Not sure that I really care if she does. Some people get what they want in life. They just need to remember what they wanted exactly. Make sense?

So in the mean time I turn to ITunes searching for one of my favorites, Stevie Ray Vaughn. While listening to good ole Stevie I think about Bradley Cooper. I'm also thinking about calling George Brett and tell him I've given up. Time to throw in the towel. Hasta La Vista Baby. See ya. You're tooooo old for me now. Adios. I've got a new boyfriend I can't stop thinking about. He doesn't know I exist. He's more than just a state line away. I can't stalk him like I tried stalking George when I was in college. He can quote William Butler Yeats. He's got a higher IQ than I do. Did I already say he doesn't know I exist? He's ---just ---dreamy...

))))))))))))))))sigh(((((((((((((((((((

he's---just--- dreamy....

Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

William Butler Yeats

I think this turning 40 stuff has done something to my hormones. Do they have meds for this stuff????