dream

this time, i was living with my family in a really swanky condo in a huge futuristic

( Error: Irreparable invalid markup in entry. Raw contents behind the cut. )

bleah.

so another thing that happened in group therapy earlier this week was that it was pointed out to me, quite reasonably, that it is, after all, a relationship group, and since i joined it i haven't made the sliightest effort toward finding a relationship, unless you count lunch with that guy i never heard from again. so i promised i'd sign up for match.com. i finally got round to it last night.

now i'm really depressed. it's mind-boggling how few guys consider anything but "slim/slender" and "athletic" body types acceptable, especially considering that a lot of the guys who seem to be expecting a supermodel or a hardbody are huge slabs of blubber themselves. it's even more depressing how few of these guys look even remotely interesting. even fewer can write in coherent, grammatically correct sentences. and let me tell you, i am sure as hell not responding to any personal ad titled "WASSUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP?"

yeesh. i found one guy who might be worth emailing, though. i'm waiting for them to put up my pictures first, since otherwise they'll assume i'm hiding something.

i am so utterly, utterly non-enthused about this. i didn't even have fun writing my profile. the whole thing is just so unspeakably dreary.

and because people are already asking

how i described myself:

Bigger than a breadbox, sharper than a serpent's tooth, smarter than the average bear, and more fun than a sharp stick in the eye. I'm a writer, a musician, and dedicated loner who wouldn't mind being alone with someone else for a change. When I'm not writing for a living, I'm usually writing for fun, reading trashy novels, or talking to my cats. (Well, okay, I also watch way too much TV, but I can't admit to that here because you'll write me off as a couch potato.) (Oops.) My outdoorsiness doesn't extend much further than sidewalk cafes, so don't ask me to go camping or jump off a bridge with you, but if you're up for doing New York Times crosswords in bed, I'm your girl.

how i described my potential match:

Oh, you know, the usual. Sense of humor, not the Creature from the Black Lagoon, no prison record, neither a borrower nor a lender be, have a brain, a heart, and courage, but please, no ruby slippers. I do insist on a freestanding ego, since unreinforced masonry tends to crumble in my presence, and if you're afraid of women with opinions, start running now. And while I love long hair on a guy, the Jesus look really doesn't do it for me. Or, as Beatrice said, "He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man. And he that is more than a youth is not for me, and he that is less than a man, I am not for him."

oh, and the title: "We're Beatrice. Are you Benedick?"

no one will get it.

oh. my. god.

http://www.surrenderedsingle.com/login_main.phtml

it really doesn't get much more offensive than this.

maybe this is stupid

but after returning the disappointing Samsung monitor and vowing to shop for monitors in person next time, i went and ordered another monitor online, the CTX PV720a. there is, however, method to my madness -- it's very highly rated by PC Magazine, it's even cheaper than the Samsung, it's convertible to portrait mode, which is a real boon for a tech writer, and it's not available from any store in my area. so if i want to try it, i have to order it. i'm only out $20 in shipping if i have to return it. $20 is worth a lot less to me than the amount of time i'd spend trying to hunt one down in person to look at it.

portrait mode. i hadn't even thought about it, but god damn, that would be useful. so we shall see.