278.
A bona fide, for-real update post!
My mom should never play matchmaker for me. At church yesterday, this young guy from Second Harvest gave a lecture about hunger relief and whatnot, and when he was done some woman in the parish announced that if anyone knew a young lady in her early 20s, they should try to hook her up with him. So, of course, the wheels in Mom's head start turning. She gave me his card and, after a quick Google search to see what he looked like, I flat-out said no.
Shallow? Sure, why not? Mom was singing his praises about how intelligent and kind he was (so was Grandma -- who wasn't even there, by the way), but I don't operate like that. I need someone nice to look at, too; ideally, a balanced mix between smarts, sweetness and good looks. I guess you could call those standards, but I'm not shooting for the moon. Mom pretty much settles for the first guy to smile at her, which is why she's twice-divorced and has a history of scuzzy, short-term boyfriends. Our taste in romantic partners is like night and day, and I'm slowly realizing that she is becoming the Sophia to my Dorothy and, without an audience laughing, it's very annoying.
*sigh* My terrible admission, flist, is that my mother is the last person on the planet I want to emulate in any way. Even when my dad was in bad shape and broke my and my brother's hearts again and again, I prided myself on taking after him more than Mom.
You can bet cold hard cash that I'm counting down the few months left until summer vacation. Though I don't get a break from school, I get a break from work. For good, I hope. Other than rocking the fuck out of my one remaining math class, I'm going to look for new employment, preferably somewhere where I don't have to get up before 10AM or don a hideous uniform. Jobs like that still exist, right?
While I'm talking about school, I think I've finally decided what to major in: Practical Nursing. And away we go~!
My mom should never play matchmaker for me. At church yesterday, this young guy from Second Harvest gave a lecture about hunger relief and whatnot, and when he was done some woman in the parish announced that if anyone knew a young lady in her early 20s, they should try to hook her up with him. So, of course, the wheels in Mom's head start turning. She gave me his card and, after a quick Google search to see what he looked like, I flat-out said no.
Shallow? Sure, why not? Mom was singing his praises about how intelligent and kind he was (so was Grandma -- who wasn't even there, by the way), but I don't operate like that. I need someone nice to look at, too; ideally, a balanced mix between smarts, sweetness and good looks. I guess you could call those standards, but I'm not shooting for the moon. Mom pretty much settles for the first guy to smile at her, which is why she's twice-divorced and has a history of scuzzy, short-term boyfriends. Our taste in romantic partners is like night and day, and I'm slowly realizing that she is becoming the Sophia to my Dorothy and, without an audience laughing, it's very annoying.
*sigh* My terrible admission, flist, is that my mother is the last person on the planet I want to emulate in any way. Even when my dad was in bad shape and broke my and my brother's hearts again and again, I prided myself on taking after him more than Mom.
You can bet cold hard cash that I'm counting down the few months left until summer vacation. Though I don't get a break from school, I get a break from work. For good, I hope. Other than rocking the fuck out of my one remaining math class, I'm going to look for new employment, preferably somewhere where I don't have to get up before 10AM or don a hideous uniform. Jobs like that still exist, right?
While I'm talking about school, I think I've finally decided what to major in: Practical Nursing. And away we go~!