Here are a couple things NOT to do when you're trying to pass the time at work, because they will either thoroughly distract or depress you:



Google hopeless crushes you had in high school and/or boyfriends who've dumped you and find out that they are now fabulously wealthy movie producers, and way hotter than they were even back when they rejected you. (On the other hand, it can be a good thing if they turn out to be fat and bald).



Peruse the online personals just to see which of the guys whom you are currently dating has recently refreshed his ad and/or has been "active" recently, OR to see which of the guys that has previously rejected you is still online looking for Ms. Right. Then, as you're doing that see your most recent unrequited crush (that would be the Charming Canadian) log on via Instant Messenger (and NOT message you, just like he has NOT messaged, e-mailed, or called of his own accord in the last 2.5 weeks. And yes, I swear, I'm going to delete him from IM. Any minute now. Really.)



You can however, try to do this:



Remind yourself that there are no less than three boys currently interested in you! (So what if one of them - that would be Corliss Guy - is still prowling the ads?)



Fondly remember that kiss that Libary Boy gave you on your front stoop last night. He might not be *quite* as good a kisser as Corliss Guy, but for whatever reason, you are a few degrees more attracted to him.



Remind yourself that one day you are going to be a famous, glamorous writer and that Jake Gyllenhaal (now single!) is going to star and that stud you loved in high school who is now a hotshot producer will produce it, and perhaps he will take one look at you, say *wow*, and that, as they say, will be that.



Yeah. Any minute now!

Here is my life plan:

• Meet Libary Boy for dinner tomorrow night
• Fall madly in love
• Get married
• Have children
• Live happily ever after

What do you think?



Yeah, yeah, I know. Who really lives happily ever after? NO ONE, that's who. But you get the gist, right?



The thing is, I'm a bit burned out at the moment. Oh yes, thank God for the drama, etc, the attention, etc. But I'm feeling ambivalent about my other options (Jet Ski Boy and Corliss Guy), and so it would make my life one hell of a lot easier if I just fell punch-in-the-stomach-in-love with someone else. (Not that those punch-in-the-stomach things ever work out.)



Oops, time for my piano lesson with my crazy, ex-hippie, stoner piano teacher, who lights up every time I go for a lesson (and doesn't offer me any). 



Sigh.

As the temperatures have heated up here in LatteLand (In the 90s over the weekend! Good Lord, have pity on us gelatinous cave-dwelling creatures!), so has BB's love life! Ow!



Actually, now that I've gotten you all riled up, it's really not that hot. It did get temporarily so earlier this week, with the arrival of Long Time Lover Boy (LTLB) from L.A. -- here, not to visit me, mind you, but to go to a wedding to which I was not invited (grrr).



In any case, LTLB qualifies as my longest-running "romance"; we have been on-again, off-again for 13 years now. Yes, we really should just get married but the reasons why we do not are just to complex and boring to go into; suffice it to say, my long dry spell was broken!



But moving right along, since there's no future there, and I'm late to work, the field has suddenly gotten crowded with players. In order or appearance they are:

Charming Canadian (CC)- Oh wait. He shouldn't even be on this list. Crush status is still at Mostly Hopeless, soon to be demoted to Completely Hopeless, but can I help it if I hold out just the tiniest bit of hope? He returns from the frozen North this week - is it at all possible he might contact yours truly? Don't hold your breath.

Corliss Guy (CG)- After going on our third date this weekend, during which I spent the whole time thinking "This guy is great but the chemistry is just not there," I let him kiss me goodbye on my front step,  and - *complication* - found that he was a very good kisser! Hmm.

Jet Ski Boy - (JSB) - This one was a set-up from my pal Sexy Blue Eyed Boy. He's big and tall and sorta sexy, and pretends to be a badass, though he's really not. We've been on three dates in one week, and yesterday, I spent all day jwhooshing around Lake Washington on his jet ski, and though I don't yet know how I feel about this one (and we haven't kissed yet!), Jet Ski Boy is certainly a good one to get down with during a long hot summer, non?

Library Boy (LB) *new! - Believe it or not, yours truly picked up a cute guy at the new seattle Public Library (which my fab friend Odious Woman despises, but I think is quite cool). There I was, innocently writing away on my book, sun streaming in the thousands of glass tiles, when who should sit down at the table across from me but a cute landscape architect. Well, one thing led to another; he asked me to coffee right then and there, and then, the *very next day* called to ask me out for a drink this week. Well! We're going to give this one a chance - and hope he's not a stalker! 

 

Well, you'll be disappointed to know I have downgraded my crush on the Charming Canadian from Promising to Mostly Hopeless status.



This hurts me more than it hurts you, believe me. That crush was my raison d'etre for the last three weeks! It gave me - oh so briefly - my joie de vivre back! Oh, that dark hair. That fair skin. Those forest green eyes and thick black lashes. Those long, chatty e-mails he wrote me from abroad!



Well. Ever since he went off on vacation with that little Canadian ho', things have just not been the same. Oh, now that he's back at work (up in CANADA for crying out loud, because apparently he  can he not get enough of this girl, despite the fact that she's just going to give him and STD  dump him for someone with more stock options!), I've seen him online.



But does he make an effort to chat with me?  Me! The chattiest, most charming girl out there! No he does not.



(F*cking IM. Why I ever thought it was a good idea to be "buddies" with him I'll never know.  Lack of s*x could be making me delusional.)



Oh I initiatied chats with him. Naturally.   Because much as I'd like to be cool and aloof, when I'm in the vise of a crush, I'm *hot*, *wild", and *out of control*! And he is quite friendly, of course, as his his wont, but -



Hear this. I am NOT IMing him first ever AGAIN. Got that? EVER. AGAIN. Because this crush is now officially Mostly Hopeless, so let's move on to more promising territory, shall we?



OK, I'm finally giving this guy an acronym, because we've been on two and half dates, and we're about to go on a third, and because he is tres cool.



I've been a tad afraid to write about him, because in a stunning faux pas, I accidentally sent him e-mail from my Breakup Babe address when we first met! (gasp!) But I have since been quiet as a mouse about my blog (who me, blog? what's a blog?) and as far as I know, he hasn't found it. Then again, he could be a tricky sort!



Nonetheless, it's time to introduce him because he's become a player. We'll call him - da na naah! - Corliss Guy (CG),the name my brilliant friend A.B. came up with - because - get this - he lives on Corliss!



This boy worked at The Company for many years (read: loaded!) and is now living a life of ease and writing plays. On top of being smart, he is also funny, intellectual, and an attractive combo of nerdy and hip with his jet black hair and black-framed glasses. In addition, he is not young enough to be my son! The loaded thing? Well, that's just a bonus now, isn't it? 



This particular relationship I would rate as Promising But Needs Passion. As in, I really like hanging around this guy, but I have yet to get the flutter in my stomach. I feel that I could get it, though, I really do! And the kind of relationship where it grows over time, well, those are usually the best of all.



Meanwhile I went on a blind date last with a set-up who was surprisingly sexy. Too bad he didn't try to kiss me cause I was all in the mood to get down and make out (except for my onion breath).



So stay tuned as the summer wears on, I drown my sorrows over the Charming Canadian in more pink drinks and hot dates, and my outfits get skimpier yet!

B- B- B-O-R-I-N-G.



Did I ever mention I get bored easily? In case such a thing was not obvious.



And that's kind of funny, because I have one of the most boring jobs in the world. Yet my job, which I like very much, has taught me to embrace boredom.



I edit the most technical gobbledygook you will ever see. At times, I am nothing more than a glorified copyeditor, editing the same kinds of pages over and over and OVER.



It used to be, back in the days of the Great Unpleasantness, that when my emotional life was going haywire, which was ALWAYS, I couldn't concentrate at work. So I would write e-mail or cry or go running or get coffee or do anything but my job.



Now, however, things have changed. Instead of fighting the boredom, I have surrendered to it!  I let it soothe me, wash over me in waves! Oh, I bob up for air every hour or so, desperate for e-mail from this or that cute boy; panic for a minute; then go back under. It's cold and unpleasant, and I think I can't possibly stay under, but then I do. And I get a lot done!  



Such a thing would not be possible, most likely, if I  were creatively unfulfilled, like I was for so many years. But now I'm a writer who writes, so what else can I ask for? Oh sure, I can ask for a bestselling book and a movie starring Jake Gyllenhall, and a chance to personally coach him for the numerous racy not-quite-s*x scenes!



The bottom line is, though, I'm doing what I want to do, with the potential to make money at it; and this cushy little gig here at The Company gives me the time and flexibility to make it happen, and the cash to keep me comfy in the meantime. So I am set. For now. Until the next freaking tragedy happens in my life. (See why boredom is good? Boredom = no tragedies!)



Except, that is,  for the romance part. And that, my friends, is when I get bored. When nothing is happening on the romance front.

 

The funny thing, there is usually a lot happening. I've usually got one on base, and one on deck, and one on the bench waiting around for his turn, which is how I might characterize things now. But you know how baseball games are *so* slow? Not much happens for a long time, even though things are probably building up to some dramatic climax (pun intended - I HOPE!)

 

Yeah. Well.

 

Boooorrrring. 

  

 

I was just sitting here innocently typing away at my favorite coffee shop. Doing what I do every Saturday morning (and every other morning, for that matter), which is work on my book.



I've long since learned to deal with that empty feeling that assaults me when I wake up alone on a weekend. I just get up and write. Sometimes it's hard and sometimes it's easy, and often that empty feeling keeps trying to strangle me, but I just keep writing anyway.



And who should log onto Instant Messenger as I sat here trying to reconstruct in detail one of my many doomed relationships from the past two years, trying to analyze where and how it went wrong, meanwhile being witty and literary and wondering, Am I really ever going to sell this thing? 



The Charming Canadian! I saw his name flash before my eyes. "The Charming Canadian has logged on." My heart sped up. I fumbled over the words I was writing. Stupid, terrible words.



But I kept writing. I wrote with one side of my brain and hoped with the other side of my brain that maybe, just maybe, he would drop me a friendly line even though he was in the midst of wrapping up what would have been the world's most romantic vacation had not, of course, The Other Girl been bit by a venmous snake while climbing up Mt. Si and puffed up to the size of a balloon like that evil aunt in Harry Potter.



He didn't, of course, and when I checked a few minutes later, after writing an entire, not-half-bad paragraph, he was offline.



Maybe he blocked me! said Needy Girl. Maybe he's so in love with this other girl - even if she is bloated beyond recognition- he knows it was a terrible idea to become IM buddies with you and is afraid you're only going to stalk him so he BLOCKED you?



So what, said Sensible Girl? Who cares? You have a f*cking book to write. So just keep writing.

 

And I did.



And I will. 

 

Because what else am I supposed to do, really?

I am cranky. Do you hear me? C-R-A-N-K-Y!

Why? Oh, I don't know! I SHOULDN'T be, that's for sure. After all, I'm not being BOMBED or SHOT AT or SENT TO WAR. I don't have CANCER. (Not yet anyway!)

But #$%Q!

I haven't had s*x in almost a freaking year. That's RIGHT. Now, is that a monumental waste or what? There are not many years left for me, people, that I am going to be this hot. I mean, please. This body is going to waste.

And I am cranky about it!

Oh sure, I could go out there and f*ck almost anyone. But do I want to? NO. Call me old-fashioned but I'm through with casual sex! That's why I didn't sleep with The Captain. That's why I didn't sleep with Sporty Architect Boy. That's why I haven't slept with anyone in a freakin' year because either 1)I have not been attracted to them or 2)they were not attracted to me or 3)they were not relationship material.

I think I'm about to set some kind of personal record, if I haven't already.

Not to mention, I'm infatuated with the Charming Canadian, who is probably off f*cking some other girl; meanwhile, there are perfectly attractive, available men pursuing me who I just can't work up any excitement about.

PLUS, it's too freaking hot around here.

F*ck summer.

Want to know what it's like to be me? (Oh of course you do - what could be more fascinating?)



OK, then try this. Wear a short skirt that's just a little too big, so that it rides up your thighs when you walk.



Carry a big heavy backpack with everything you could possibly need for the day - and more! Workout clothes, sheet music (in case you have time to practice on that keyboard in your office!) Makeup! That mail you should really open! A few pounds of books for good measure that you can read on the bus if you get bored, and a portable mp3 player.



Then, of course you've got your laptop, because you've got to get that book done.



Right. Now imagine you just got done writing at the coffeeshop and you're late for the bus, as usual. You've got your backpack, your laptop, you're short skirt that's riding up even higher because of all the stuff hanging all over you. You're also wearing not to mention your mp3 player with the earplugs that keep falling out of your ears as you rush towards the busy trying to listen to - what else "Gloria" by Laura Branigan (because you can't get enough of those 80s tunes).



Get to work late. Instant Message at least two of your friends right away to help ease the transition from glamorous writer girl rushing down the street with her underwear showing to tech editor drone. Look for e-mail from your agent praising your latest chapters. Don't find it. Look for e-mail from the Charming Canadian, who won't have sent you any because he's been spending all his time in Harborview hospital where The Other Girl is in a full body cast (what, no sex for another year?! Too BAD!) from that ice ax injury she got on Mt. Rainier.



In between doing actual job, juggle e-mail from a variety of suitors, and make three dates in the next five days. Instant message more friends, one of whom tells you you need to join Daters Anonymous.



Rush back out to catch bus for date with - ack! I don't have an acronym for this one yet! - the funny, rich, ex-Company man, who is actually a reasonable age and seems to like you and who has invited you out for a second date after your first one last week.



Hope you run into the Captain on the bus so he can drool over your tan legs in your tiny skirt (that will not be riding too high this time because you are leaving all that CRAP behind in your office), while you blithely ignore him and listen to Air Supply on your mp3 player and then whoosh off the bus to your date.



Must go catch bus now!

So. Thus beginneth the next two weeks of knowing those two canoodling Canucks are toodling their way around MY FAIR STATE OF Washington, no doubt falling madly in love as a cheesy montage plays to the tune of "I'm on Top of the World."



Here they are at Pike Place Market, laughing as a big fish flies right towards them and hits The Other Girl (TOG) on the head, and knocks her unconscious! Oops, ha ha ha! There goes that romantic dinner they had planned at Campagne!



Oh, there they are at the water's edge in Olympic National Park, heads bent over a tidepool as sunset streaks the sky, when TOG playfully teases a sea urchin,and OH MY GOSH it grabs her finger and won't let go, meanwhile injecting a paralytic poison! Oh ha ha ha!



Better yet, there they are at Mt. Rainier - MY Mount Rainier - which TOG, with her out-of-shape, untoned, pasty white legs, - would never be able to climb, not in a million years. Holding hands among the wildflowers, alone in their own little world, when OH NO! - an exhausted climber returning from the summit accidentally takes out the TOG when she swings her ice ax into TOG's kneecaps! An expensive helicopter rescue ensues and the rest of their romantic week is ruined as TOG is stuck in Harborview Hospital with the victims of gang warfare, oh ha ha ha!



Meanwhile, yours truly will continue to rip through the cluster of suitors that has suddenly swarmed around me in my drunken, scantily-clad state.



And I won't be thinking about them at all. NOT AT ALL.

#*(!#$*&!



Did I ever happen to mention, by chance, that love sucks? Oh yes, I may have mentioned that once or twice, but in case I haven't, LOVE SUCKS.



I feel so much better now that I've gotten that out. Wait, actually, you know what? I DON'T.



So I at last went on a quasi-date with the Charming Canadian last night. Away from The Company! He was sweet and flirtatious and engaging as ever, and for better or worse, honest and straightforward enough to tell me about this other girl who is in the picture.



#$(*! @#!



Did I mention I don't like other girls? Oh yes, I may have mentioned that once or twice, but in case I haven't, I DON'T LIKE OTHER GIRLS.



Anyway, The Other Girl (TOG) hails from the frozen North as well and is coming down to visit CC next week - yes NEXT WEEK, during which time, the implication was, their "friendship" might become something more. And then he goes back up to Canada for a week and you KNOW WHAT?



That's just FINE. FINE, DO YOU HEAR ME? They can HAVE EACH OTHER! Because I, my friends, am going to spend the next two weeks drinking! Yes, drinking and wearing skimpy clothing and having lots and lots and LOTS of fun. So much fun that I won't be able to remember it all!



And if he comes back and things haven't worked out with TOG and he says, oh, BB, I want to date you - I will say, "Oh reallly???? Is that soooo? Then stand in line buddy!! Oh - and did I mention that right after my date with you I went on another date - yes, back to back dates, that right - with a handsome, funny, rich, available man? Well I DID."



So there.



I'm off to get drunk now. Anyone want to join me?

It's been a while since I've had a workplace crush. Now, it of course makes work more exciting. But it also makes it more stressful!



For example, when you are having the worst hair day ever in the history of mankind. Or when you tragically decide, in a sunburnt, mosquito-bitten, I've-been-in-the-woods-for-three-days-and-wore-the-same-thing-every-day haze, you decide that wearing a brown shirt, white pants, and red shoes, and a blue poncho would actually be fashionable.



The aforementioned crush, however, the stunningly cute Charming Canadian (CC), doesn't even work in my building! (Close enough however, that one has cause to worry). In fact, he is out of the country most of the freaking time -- charming wealthy executives into buying more Company products, or visiting his family in the Godforsaken tundra to the north - which doesn't bode well for our future torrid love affair.



Anyway, I get ahead of myself. We haven't even gone on a date! Oh my Lord, nothing as scandalous as that. We've only exchanged e-mail, mostly, of course, because he's been out of the country. But he's back! For a couple hours, anyway.



My intention, however, for that couple hours that he graces this star-spangled country is to hang out with him WITHOUT talking about [work-related item]. I have in, fact, already suggested this, so we'll see what he says! If he turns me down, I'm sure he'll find a way to do it tactfully and politely - being Canadian and all!



Meanwhile, I hope I have a better hair day tomorrow.



And that's more than enough from this fluffy little corner of the world.

Well, pardonnez-moi. I've been using whatever creative energy I have for crafting a single daily e-mail to the Charming Canadian (as I have dubbed the latest and greatest love object of your favorite boy-crazy blogger), who, as we speak is hobnobbing in foreign lands with wealthy execs, teaching them exactly how to deploy Company products to their greatest advantage!



These e-mails must be witty (it goes without saying). They must be friendly - with just a hint of romantic interest, but not too much. Not too long, of course, but they need to pack a punch. To make an impression. To jump out at CC from his state-of-the-art laptop in his top-of-the-line hotel room (where at this very moment he might be wearing a paper-thin, complimentary robe*) and say "Me! Look at me, CC! I'm; smart; clever; fun; adorable!"



To my delight, after our coffee non-date, CC needed only the slightest bit of encouragement to move away from his overly-formal, work-related correspondence with me (signed "Regards, CC") to a fun, personal one during his business trip.



And so, I continue to hope. That when he gets back we can continue to get to know each other and explore what seems to be a mutual interest. Note that I did not say, that when he gets back we can get married! You thought I was going to, didn't you?



No, no, no. I've learned my lesson. Don't plan the wedding until you've had at least three dates!



Kidding. Aw, leave me alone, would ya? YES, I have a life. A very busy one, in fact. Most of my creative energy actually goes towards, what else - ye olde book, which I should be writing at this very second, instead of penning this fluff.