Boys, boys, take a number, would ya?



You, pesky tester boy, it’s nice that you’ve taken such a shine to me but stop IMing me all the time.



You, French guy from the cafeteria, you’re very friendly for a French guy. Suspiciously so. But oui, I will go hiking with you sometime.



You, backcountry ski god whom I so brazenly e-mailed and who so sweetly replied. Um, why yes, I, backcountry ski! I fell all the way down Mt. St. Helens on a pair of backcountry skiis. I could have walked faster, but "A" for effort, right?



And you, Friendster guy. You’re cute. And funny. And smart. But I don’t know if I like you enough to kiss you. Yet. Can we take things slow?



Besides, I’m too busy becoming a would-be-famous novelist and soon-to-be rock star to concern myself with men. Besides having written 30 pages of pure drivel for NaNoRiMo this month, next week I begin my transformation to keyboard goddess.



Yes, I am going back to piano lessons, so I can take those 13 years of classical piano training my parents scrimped and saved for, and turn them into rock and roll goodness. Rock star dad J. probably believed I would never take him up on his offer to guest star in his kickass country punk band The Reluctants. But he should have known better.