I really shouldn't watch Sex in the City reruns...especially when they ask the question, "Deep down...do women just want to get rescued?" Because deep down, I do. I sooo, do...I don't care how successful I am professionally, or the fact that I own my own house, or the fact that I have a very loving mom and canine crew. I want to be saved. Saved from drinking pickle juice from the jar and wiping my mouth off with the back of my hand just because I can. Saved from wearing insane outfits of mismatched socks, a side sloppy ponytail, orange boxers and a snazzy tank top that says "I'm the girl your mom warned you about"...because no one's going to see the outfit and snicker at me (although I'd love an endearing snicker right about now). So aside I've decided that I have to figure out my next move so that I get out of my 10 month comfortable trip through Inertiaville (yes yes I'm aware that you can be inert and have a trip. Shut up!). And then I thought again and decided...there isn't going to be a next move. I'm going to sit back and get pursued. Oh it happens...it happens all the time, it just tends to be the undesireables. For some reason they have the guts that others don't. I have no idea why. (Sigh). "Someday my prince will come..." and if he doesn't...I'll be buying more dogs soon. And I'll still be fine. I just wanted something to post. Sue me.