I wish there was three-way IM. Your best friend can IM her guy friend and ask about his friend that you like, while you spy on the convo. It's genius, I know.

I'll be damned if I stay in during another Valentine's Day. I've never had a valentines date and this year I plan on having a date. I made reservations to a posh restaurant and am dragging my best guy friend with me. We're going to pretend we're in a fabulous relationship (or what he likes to call it faux relationship), don glamorous clothes, and prance around the restaurant like rich folk. I suggest you try it as well.

I found my new starvation drug of choice: coffee. I haven't had a bit to eat since last night at 4am when I woke up from hunger pangs. Coffee does the trick when you want to be a Park Avenue Princess, limp and gangly.

It's hard reading two books at the same time (Bergdorf Blondes at work and Trading Up at home). Characters have the same name and the plots are similar. I don't know what the hell is going on in either novel.

I'm considering being a housewife as a career. I don't exactly want to pop out children or take care of them, but I adore the idea of creating a home, buying appliances, and fixing elaborate dinners.

I have the ability to be committed to dieting, exercising, and keeping in touch with distant relatives. I can hold cocktail parties, arrange appointments, and stay abreast with the latest news, entertainment and wordly.

Techincally, I don't want to be a trophy wife, but just a wife. Wait, I don't want to get married, but just engaged. Marriage is too permanent. I would be nice to spread my lovely homemaking skills to multiple houses slash mansions.

The only thing holding me back from really wanting to be a homemaker is my future husband/fiancee's infedility. You know, any man that can afford to have a wife like me would have to work insane hours in the office and being in a couped up office 20 hours a day would mean having casual sex with the hot twenty-something secretary.

I would have to put up with the shit Carmela Soprano and the other mob wives have to with their husbands' goomas and what not.

What is a girl to do with a dream that isn't 100% perfect? Hook up with the hot pool boy.

I love those people at the grocery store that bring their cart into the shopping line and then leave. They pick up more items, throw them in the cart, and run off again. I don't see them for another 5 minutes until they come trotting with an armful of bananas, tissue paper, and packets of gum. You're supposed to be done shopping when you get in line. There is no FIVES at the grocery store. The cart is not a jacket you place on the theater seat to signify "this is taken."

I'm just jealous because I use baskets and not carts and I can't go back and pick up stuff once I get in line.

I like going into Panera to order a cup of coffee and leaving. It's like saying to the world, "I'm too good for this cafe and I have better more exciting things to do with my life than sit with you peons."

Then I think, Wait. I'm just like those losers that I work with that must have coffee in the morning or they'll die. These are ugly, fat, unfashionable people I work with that share the same coffee buying experience.

What haven't old people ruin?

OMG NEWS FLASH! Jen and Brad broke up. Where the hell have I been? Oh yea, drinking away the weekend.

Why does it feel good for this couple to break up? I mean, it was inevitable, but you never knew when it would actually happen. This was a fairytale couple, both pretty good looking compared to industry standards, had solid careers, and could bounce coins off their asses.

On a side note, I never liked Brad's craters and Jen's pretentious attitude.

There are full five days this week. No holidays, no breaks.

This weekend, I attempted to become an alcoholic. No, not like go to the bars and drink myself into oblivion. Rather, I sat at home, by myself, and opened a couple of beers, before sticking with old champagne. The first beer tasted like run-down digusting rotting rum (Bicardi low carb silver) and the second beer tasted okay, but had too many calories (Blue Moon). Harold and Kumar was on the tv and I drank till I felt tipsy and cracked up at the most inane jokes, albiet the movie is full of them but the cheetah scene was actually interesting with alcohol.

I still don't understand why people, like Denzel in "Man on Fire" become alcoholics. It hurts to drink straight from the bottle and in the morning you hate yourself. If you're going to drink, you might as well hang out with other drunk people and make fun of the sobers.