Don’t you hate it when you have a great hair day and there is no one around to appreciate it?



Oh, perhaps the nameless hordes of balding yet ponytailed developers at work appreciated it. You know, the ones eating pizza and chocolate cake for lunch, and adding just a little more padding to that paunch.



Perhaps they appreciated me from afar, thinking: “Who is that strangely stylish girl in this den of fashion iniquty? Look at the way her expensive highlights glint in the sun! Look at the way her hair has just the right amount of pouf because of her meticulous blow-drying technique! Look at how her Mac lipstick perfectly matches that cool shirt she got at a consignment shop! She is...fabulous!”



No doubt there were plenty of people thinking that. If only someone had said something, instead of just me, whispering to myself in the bathroom, “You’re hot!” Willing myself back into the hallway where at any moment I could see the perpetrators of The Great Unpleasantness, the stars of my anguished dreams.



Such was yesterday. Monday. I guess, for a Monday, things could have been worse.



I know your pal Breakup Babe has been a little morose lately. I know you don’t want to hear about bad dreams and loneliness. You want s*x! S*x, boys, and more s*x! Well you got it!



Except, uh...hmm. One little problem. There aren’t any boys, really. And there’s even less s*x. Unlike Sour Bob, I have not fallen madly, annoyingly, in love with a fellow blogger. Well, I could potentially be in love with one if he didn’t live so far away and wasn’t already married to his work. The L’il Rockclimbing Spy, as befits is young age, is about to ship off to foreign lands. Sexy Boy, who seemed like he might, finally be summoning the energy to pursue me, is proving himself as paralyzed as ever. The Mr. Perfect I met through the personals two weeks ago – rich, outdoorsy, altruistic – never even returned the friendly e-mail I wrote him after our date, which is fine because HE WASN’T THAT CUTE ANYWAY.



The galpals have been working it for me though. Galpal #1 picked up a cute boy in a band t-shirt for me on the train the other day (his cuteness remains to be verified), while Galpal #3 met another cute boy (cuteness also remains to be verified) in a band t-shirt yesterday, who she claims she is going to set me up with. Thusly, according to my g-friends, the number one criteria for a boy for me is that he be wearing a band t-shirt.



I wish I could chat for longer but it is time to prepare for work. This will not be a good hair day, and as a result, I will probably run into all sorts of people I hope to impress. Boys in band t-shirts, no doubt.