Friday, December 10, 2004

A Fruitless Search

No one should ever have to utter the phrase "God, what is that, SAUERKRAUT?" and engage in a company-wide hunt for "that weird smell" before nine o'clock in the morning.

It was a fruitless search. The maintenence guy conspiritorially confided that he thinks it's a dead rat and left me with a can of Lysol to defend myself. The smell might finally be fading, or else it's killing my olfactory receptors. I can live with either, as long as I don't have to sit in stink for the rest of the day.

This morning I heard from both the TV news and Z-100's "sleaze report" that Jason Biggs is having such a hard time finding a girlfriend he's posted a profile on Match.com (under some kind of pseudonym). I had a good time picturing hundreds of American Pie fans flocking to the site, like ugly step-sisters to the digital ball, and posting their pictures in hopes that the Mr. Biggs, romancer of pies, might pick them as his red-carpet ornament du jour.

I can't say I'm seeking an e-arrow from Cupid via Jason Biggs's Match.com listing, but I did redo my incredibly dumb profile today. I was faced with eight idle hours at work in front of the computer and got to thinking that if a well-recieved Broadway actor isn't too good for Match.com than neither am I. I had originally filled it out because you had to before you could search for people who had genuine Match.com profiles, people who, say, you recognized from middle school and wanted to make fun of. I know this makes me a horrible person, but I have amended my ways and sheepishly joined their ranks. I'm not gonna hide it, though. In fact, "wink" at me (vomit); my ID is runninglola, zip code 10598.

It has just occured to me that this may have been a big Match.com commercial stunt.

I feel so used.

Last night Kai and I ran into the Jordan Catalano of Yorktown High School. He turned out even more beautiful than I expected him to, but, true to form, did not remember ever meeting me despite the fact that we hung out every single Friday at the Teen Center for the duration of my eighth- and ninth-grade years. He's just one on the long list of people who have some kind of cognitive aphasia affecting only my face. I must've been introduced to him four thousand times, and one of my best high-school friends even dated his older brother for three years. Still, blank stare every single time I see him.

I would be more pissed off, but seemed truly delighted to see Kai which is so My So-Called Life it's hard to do anything but cover my mouth and squeal. They once held hands during my piano teacher's son's birthday party. It would be a Lifetime Movie of the Week if they ended up together.

Bitch.

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