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.

Oh my gosh! I have a reason to live again!



Yes, I, Breakup Babe have a crush. And where there's a crush, there's hope!



Phew. Things were looking pretty grim there as I had not had a crush in an entire month, and that crush, as you might recall - Cutest Boy in the World - gave me the Lets Just Be Friends (LJBF) talk and then disappeared into the ether in his flip-flops, garlic emanating from his every pore.



Hmmph.



Well WHO NEEDS HIM?



Certainly not me. So what if he was a rock star, rock climber, poet, and adorable dark-haired boy all in one?



Especially, because, for one: I am now a rock star in my own right, after making my auspicious debut yesterday evening at the food court of the Crossroads Mall, which you could call the Madison Square Garden of Bellevue. Along with that velvety-voiced Sexy Blue-Eyed Boy, who sang, I played "Martha" on piano, and did not mess up once! I probably even looked kind of hot up there in my tatoo-baring red tank top and my (almost-too-tight) jeans, never mind that I'm well on my way to 400 pounds.)



And, especially after my coffee non-date yesterday with (must come up with clever acronym here but have not yet) a dark-haired, fair-skinned, green-eyed charmer. After encountering this handsome, lively, and lovably nerdy program manager in a meeting here at The Company last week I contrived to have a "meeting" with him for "work-related" purposes. (I am nothing if not creative when it comes to these sorts of things).



I was worried, of course, that - being a clueless guy - he might not get that this was actually a date, or worse yet,of course, that he could care less. But, in fact, he seemed to get it. He seemed to get it to the point of being nervous even, at first. Yours truly was too, but I hide it better. Well I did spill coffee on myself, but that happens all the time.



To make a long story short (because I must go catch the bus now) This guy is articulate, bright, dynamic, driven. Engaging. Sexy - yet, at the same time, nerdy - which makes him all the more sexy. There were sparks. There was talk of going to non-work-related coffee next week. There is, in a word, hope.



And that's all I need to get by on these days, really. Of course, I have hopes of being a famous author too, or at least a published one. But I don't want to be famous all alone.