"Hi, Pot? This is the kettle. You're black."

I hate it when I sleep with someone and they keep calling. Even though I've been trying to give up my hussy ways, I occassionally relapse. I relapsed last Sunday, and even though he's a perfectly nice boy who was perfectly good in bed, I don't want to talk to him anymore. I'm sure I'd probably sleep with him again, given the chance. After all, he does have a tongue ring.

Despite being the worst movie ever made, I thoroughly enjoy coyote ugly stories. It's happened to all of us--you wake up next to someone so awful that you'd rather chew your arm off than have to stick around for the morning after. My problem is that I started having that kind of reaction every time I went to bed with someone. It was like an allergic reaction to potential commitment. And while I can be a henious bitch who uses people for sex, I don't like to hurt their feelings. Agatha has no problem "forgetting" to return the calls of her sexy British philosopher, but I foolishly keep answering the phone. What's a girl to do?

I've got a date with the boy from last week tomorrow. We're having dinner just around the corner from my place. He tries to be smooth and thinks I don't notice. Silly boy. Guess that means I've got to clean tonight. Ugh. I'll be sure to let y'all know how it goes. Let's hope I can keep from laughing.

On an unrelated note, I've decided to make my parents really proud and become a sex phone operator after college. Surely that will mean LOTS of hilarious stories, which is one of the reasons I do most everything.