Will you eat my olives?

So I'm sure you're wondering what ever happened to that "boy fast" I was on...well, folks I made it through half of the day on Monday and I broke down. I know, I know, a big round of applause for Liya. I'm so weak. I'm sorry I'm not sorry. Ok? I have to date. I'm not a nun. I've been seeing a few guys lately and I'm having trouble narrowing down my prospects. So then my good friend Jaimie (a very insightful relationship guru) helped shed some light on the situation. She was watching a show and she said they mentioned the "Olive Theory". Apparently the theory is based on whether you and your perfect mate are fond of olives. If you order a martini and you don't like olives, naturally your counterpart will eat them for you. Ok, that makes sense, but what if I don't want a martini. What if I want a beer. Then what?

Trying to find the perfect man is exhausting, not to mention I'm kind of picky. I just want your average God-loving, intelligent, good-looking, funny, kind, adventurous, manly, athletic, independent, ambitious, sensitive guy with great taste in music, a sense of style, a wonderful smile, and a beautiful voice that he uses to sing me to sleep every night. Is that so much to ask for? Huh?

And so the search continues...

Home sweet home.

So I hate cruises. I didn't know that until last Monday when I stepped onto my first, and coincidentally my last, cruise liner ever. It's a very odd feeling. I'm conflicted. I love boats. I never get sea sick. I [sometimes] like the company of strangers. The puzzle pieces just don't fit. I think it has something to do with being confined to one place for many days. Commitment issues and what not. Or maybe, it has something to do with the claustrophobic rooms that you have the privilege of sleeping in during your stay. Who knows?

As I walked into our 4x4 room, I looked at the array of magazines on the bed and on the very top is a magazine with Kate Winslet's face on the cover. Um really? Are these people joking? The first thing I see when I step on a cruise shouldn't be something that reminds me of a boat sinking to the bottom of the freaking ocean. I mean Kate was the one that survives in Titanic, but still, it's the principle of the matter. It's like they're screwing with your head on purpose. That's just messed up. Next, I have to deal with all the white people I came with and how they love to lay out in the sun. Ridiculous. I like to keep a constant mocha color. So I coated my body in 100 SPF (yes, they really make that), laid underneath my towel, sipped my cocktails, and read Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang.

One thing that salvaged the trip was our stop in Nassau on St. Patty's Day. Other than all the very green festivities, my favorite part of that day was seeing this beautiful wall.

It says, "This is how much I love you! This is how much I love you! This is how much I love you!" Over and over again. *Sigh* My heart just melted. Keep in mind, I'm a hopeless romantic. We just stood there and stared at the wall for a couple of minutes. I hope there is some wonderful, fairytale story behind the wall. The realist in me says, probably not. But it's still nice to think about.

All in all, the trip...was eh, okay. I was not impressed. I'm definitely glad to be home and talking to you y'all again. Goodnight darlings.

First of many lasts.

I'm about to leave on my LAST spring break ever. That's so crazy to think about. I can't believe it. So there won't be any blog updates for about a week. Take a deep breath. You'll be fine. And when you're bored, think about how I'm on a cruise with a drink in my hand on my way to the Bahamas. Jealous? Of course you are.

So before I leave, I'm going to leave you with a clip of one of my favorite comedians...the one and only Aziz Ansari. Enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hd90oqIvtXs

Goodbye my loves. And if some Titanic type shit happens to our boat, it was nice knowing you.

So many Apps.

I was blind, but now I see. Not only do I see, but I see in 3G! I know that is sort of blasphemous, but there is simply no way I can explain the pure joy I have when holding my brand new iPhone. I've never been in love before, but I think this is what it's going to feel like. Too much? Over the top, you say? Not at all. It's like when you turn 16 and get your very own car and you can't even remember how you survived all those years with your parents driving you around. Such a freeing experience.

Rewind to one month ago. I was having a bad day and dealing with the usual, daily troubles with my slider phone made circa 1990 when my parents called to talk about changing our phone service provider. We had been with this horrible excuse for a phone service, *Shme-Shmobile* [the name is disguised to protect the company], for many years and my parents mentioned something about switching when our contract was finished. It was like the phone phairy had listened to my prayers. No more would I have to endure the whispers and jokes behind my back. The time had finally come! I would finally be up to date with technology.

Verizon or AT&T. AT&T or Verizon. The commercials feuds had me so conflicted, but I had to go with my heart/where they had the best phone of the ENTIRE UNIVERSE. So with a little pleading here and little begging there, we all got iPhones! Come to mama. I've had it since Saturday and I've already become that person in a room full of people who would rather be on their phone than socialize. So sad. But I'll have the last laugh because I know that everyone that doesn't have one is jealous of me. And to quote a dear friend, "Jealousy is a disease. Get well soon."

In the spirit of the Academy Awards, I just want to say a quick thanks to Luke Wilson who persuaded to make the right choice. The guy at the AT&T store who helped me get my iPhone set up. And was kind of cute I might add. And to my parents for making all of this possible. Thank you. And God Bless.

For all you fellow Bill Gates lovers, don't worry, I haven't changed my mind about Apple as of yet...but damnnnn homie.

I don't want no scrub.

I've gone on countless dates with countless boys. You name the type of guy and I've probably dated him. Athletic. Sensitive. Intellectual. Not so intellectual. Music lovers. Computer geeks. Wine sippers. Keg stand-ers. Emo. Fratty. Home bodies. World travelers. Cocky. Timid. Mysterious. Sweet. Trouble makers. Hippie. Corporate. And you know what guys? I'm tired. Oh so tired...

So one night I went out to dinner with some friends and one of the girls at the table was telling us about how her friend went on a "boys fast". She fasted from boys. What a novel idea. And exactly what I needed to try.

So these are the rules:

1. I can't communicate with boys in any fashion. No texting. No calling. No chatting.
2. Exception to rule # 1: I can only talk to boys about school work [in brightly lit, public places].
3. I can't go out to bars.
4. Pretty much avoid any situation that involves boys.

For those of you who know me, you're probably thinking "yeah right, you could never do that". Well, normally I would agree, but I've got to try something new. Maybe this fasting period will help cleanse my chi and what not and the perfect boy will find me. I'm a hopeless romantic. I know, it's so gross. So off I go for one full week without boys. Nothing compared to the one month that my role model achieved, but ya know...baby steps. Wish me luck!

"And now," cried Max, "let the wild rumpus start!"

Caffeine pills.

While we're on the subject of Saved by the Bell, I have to share with you the BEST Saved by the Bell moment of all time. Oh yeah, you know the one I'm talking about. The one you reenact when you're at a party with all of your friends...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ljtuGoIIKGs

Just go ahead and clap it up for Jessie Spano. She should have gotten an Oscar for that one.

Happy Tuesday.