In the time of war.

I have classically modeled myself after what I would describe as an “urban Scarlett O’Hara.”

That being said, I don’t yet wear hoop skirts, but I do rely on the kindness of strangers.

Today, as I was getting off the bus, a man told me that my bus pass was falling out of my pocket.

Before I could grab it it fell to the pavement.

The man stooped down and picked it up. Then he fled down the street, yelling “you had your chance to get it! Now it’s mine!”

I don’t have anything witty to say about this, but I think the endeavor speaks for itself.

Sigh.

I suppose I will think about it tomorrow.

Rest assured, there is hope.

Yesterday I was talking to my friend D. at work.  After I mentioned that it seems difficult to meet people in this, the vast city of Chicago, he paused. 

 

“Let me get back to you on your problem,” he said, pensively.

 

After about four hours he sent me a list of things he thinks I have going for me in an effort to build my “self-esteem.”

 

Here is that list:

 

Pros:

 

*Former bartender

*Insists on doing whiskey shots

*Is not particularly tied to the idea of marriage

*When she hits you, it’s never hard enough to hurt you

*Lots and lots of hair (on her head)

*Will not hold poor hygiene against you (but will make fun of you for it)

 

I seriously have a lot going for me.  I mean, I might be the cat’s meow.  Or at least it’s fur-ball.

I’m a player. I play.

Last night I fell off of a bar stool while trying to hit on a guy.

The fun part?

I was sober.