All right, updates.



I am going to die old and alone!



There you have it. Just about sums it up, folks.



Cutest Boy in the World sent me a "Let's Just Be Friends" (LJBF e-mail). The architect awaits me in San Francisco this weekend, and while I would like nothing more to fall madly in love with him, I just know, deep down that we're not meant to be.



That is all I have time to tell you today, alas. That, and the fact that I am so inexpressibly tired of the trend of people (men, all) using the comments to tell me how f*cked up I am. I am sure these people probably don't have much better to do in their own pathetic lives than surf the Web and find other people to degrade so that they can feel better about themselves, but still, it's wearing on me.



It's sad, too, because the comments are so integral to blogging. It's so rewarding for a writer to have such direct contact with their readers, and I have to say, the comments have been mostly a source of great pleasure (and some drama this last year and half). But they've gone into a downward spiral lately. So, as soon as I get off my lazy a*s, I'm disabling them.



Sorry to those of you (and it's the majority) of comment-posters who have been nothing but supportive and funny and enthusiastic. I have appreciated you more than you will ever know.