So… my roommate Mike sent me this lovely post, A Toast, Jedidiah, from a gal named Kristen. First off, thank you Mike for sending this post my way. I love it and I am really liking some of her other posts. It sounds like her and I may have been twins separated at birth. If you know me, then you would know that her recap post fits me flawlessly. Second off, I would like to welcome Mike back to the gym. Those ellipticals have missed you. For those of you that don’t know yet, Mike finally purchased a gym pass. Oh… by the way Mike, your TV called and it misses you too.

Back to the daunting task at hand. You are welcome to click the link above, open a new window, read Kristen’s recap of Sean's post, and navigate your way back here or you can just read my recap of her recap about Sean's post and stop wasting your computer’s memory with all those open internet windows.

First and foremost, I must salute you Kristen and Sean (not that either one will ever read this, or even know who the fuck I am), your recap and post should win a prize for its brutal honesty and clarity. Shall we begin?

Neither Kristen nor I could picture ourselves being in a relationship with someone. There are so many things that I do by myself and to myself. I will eat alone, sleep alone, put my cigarettes out on the bottom of children’s feet alone, laugh alone (mainly at my own jokes), go to the gym alone, blah, blah, blah, etc. I don’t mind doing stuff with other humans, it’s just so taxing dealing with others’ schedules and it annoys the hell out of me to stray from my everyday routine. I understand that I have a DVR (Digital Video Recorder), but that does not mean I need to overwork it and run it into the ground. It’s not a ten year old in a sweat shop people!

Envisioning me in a loving, committed relationship is something that I have a hard time wrapping my head around. In fact, just writing about it has caused a fever blister to manifest on my lip. UGH! I have now dubbed my new friend Bob Loblaw (Arrested Development). You may call it Bob as you stare at it and giggle. Honestly, I would probably take pleasure in being with someone. Knowing that someone will be there, having them ask about your day, and wanting to go do things together gives me that same warm and fuzzy feeling that vodka does. Just as long as they knew I had complete control. Complete control. No silly checks and balances system here.

I have always said that I need a part-time boyfriend. Only around when I want him to be, and as far away from me when I don’t. Friday night through Sunday night would be perfect. A full-time relationship takes too much consideration and it’s not something you can just run away from like the dinner check or a crying baby. Mike would say I am like a cat, and he is right. I want a boyfriend to be loving and affectionate when I want it and LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE OR I WILL SCRATCH YOUR EYES OUT when I don’t. And just like Kristen says, “He should have dark hair and a British accent.” Is that too much to ask for?

I’m sure if you took all of this information and put it together in some elaborate complicated mathematical equation, the ending conclusion would be that I am a self-absorbed asshole. Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner. No more phone calls please. Truthfully, I am just an anti-social person living in a fantasy world where I am always right and I never get screwed over at the drive thru or take out. So, if you see me out in public, just remember a few things. Rule number one, unless you come served in a frosted glass, do not come within three feet of my lips and Bob Loblaw. Two, when you’re speaking and making jokes, just remember that I have a fake laugh with your name written all over it. And finally, I judged you at the door. It’s a safe bet that I think you’re stupid, shallow and a common whore.