Can I Get a Patent on That?

Yesterday afternoon driving home, I heard a commercial on the radio for www.wealthymen.com This is not a joke. It is an honest to goodness online dating web site that apparently screens the men to make sure they are indeed wealthy. Maybe it screens the women, too. I'm not exactly sure how it works. I didn't look at the site too long as I was at work and it looked like it could be a site for high-priced call girls. It seems like the women browsing the site would have to be screened, no? Otherwise, why not just call it golddiggers.com or lookingforasugardaddy.com?

When you think of it, it's not a bad idea. A web site for wealthy men, I mean. It's understandable that men of a certain socio-economic status would want dates from the same type of background.

It's not a bad concept. How about smartguys.com or notajerk.com? I'd be all about a dating service called sincerefunnygenuinemen.com.

And one for nice, smart guys. Not Mensa members but just those with even slightly above average levels of intelligience. There'd be a pop quiz about books to determine if they actually read or just say they do and read reviews instead. A hidden camera to see how they treat animals and the elderly when no one is looking.

I need a service like this, seriously. One guy on Match.com in describing the kind of pants he likes to wear called them "cackies." I am not making this up.

I may be on to something here.

Like Watching Paint Dry

My life really isn't that boring, only the boy-social part. Otherwise, I've actually been quite busy and it's great. The new book arrived from the printer last week and I've been fulfilling pre-orders, lining up signings and the like. It's been great fun and is the perfect antitode to whining and feeling sorry for myself.

Maybe someday my prince will come. I'm not holding my breath, but maybe.

As always, I'll keep you posted.

Big Plans

Tonight I am attending a writer's salon at the home of a certain very A-list actor. I am a bundle of nerves, although I foresee my dining out on this story for ages.

Yesterday it occured to me that had Flybastard stuck around then possibly I would have invited him to attend the party at the home of a certain very A-list actor. But oh, well. He may be doing something fabulous tonight but I know what he won't be doing. And that's attending a party at the home of a certain very A-list actor. Just saying.

I'm Brain Dead

Last night I dreamed this guy was my boyfriend. Only he was sleeping with this girl I know from my hometown.

If I'm going to dream about having a random celebrity boyfriend, why can't it be this guy? And how much does it suck that even in my dreams, literally, the guy I'm dationg is still a jerk??