Love Is In The Air

Six months of blogging, and what have I learned?

Only a single thing:

-I am super-obsessed with finding a dude.

Find me a soul-mate!  Colour me “in love!”  Let’s get married!

THAT’S what it all comes down to in the end.

Are you even surprised?

Oh you are?

Well fine then, but why don’t we look at the facts?

-As I slowly embark on my (*cough) late-20’s, I find myself in singular-mode, yet still I cling to a “happily ever after” (one that includes a 10-tier cake, a dashing groom, and row upon row of midget-jugglers).

Meanwhile, my dad is busy “photo-shopping” away, so he can upload my ass on marriageexpress.com (as a prize to the drooliest (and wealthiest) Indian bidder).  Now while that just might sound like a cyberous affair to remember, I think I’ll have to pass.  I can already hear the collective gasp from Indian grannies everywhere, but I REFUSE to take it back.  I’m just not that turned-on by the idea of Rajeev “Something-Or-Other” knocking on my door with an Engineering degree, a sandpaper personality, and notions of bedding my ass (not to mention the fact that we’ll be living with his parents…W—T—F?!?!?!?!)

So is it really any wonder that I’m out to find a man (a real one)?

And please, don’t even TRY to tell me how “love isn’t something you can pick up at the corner store”…YES IT IS!!! I just haven’t found the right store as of yet…(if only “Hunk-a-licious Mart” was on my GPS…)

So there you have it: A wide-eyed chick in search of love…are you with me?

If you’d like to come along, relax and have a seat on my brand new blog.  From here on in, I’ll be reflecting on my dreams, my schemes, my failures and my triumphs, in the age-old game of love (see revised “Brief Bio” for more…)

But wait: what does this mean?

-Will I NEVER again share my hate on things like Crocs, psycho latte-boys, or shameful pigs on the train? 

Sure I will.

Or will I suddenly cease from being painfully honest on my weird and embarrassing past?

Heavens no.

I’m sure you’ll find some classic rants, but in the end, it will always come back to ME, my heart, and my inevitable fairy-tale future. 

Now granted, that’s quite the narcissistic approach, when you take into account world violence, starving children, and Britney Spears’s heart-wrenching allergy to undies.

To that I can only say THIS:

“But what about the waste that happens EVERY month, when a Romi-egg falls out of the chute and into the atmosphere, never fulfilling its vaginal destiny?” 

Now THAT’S what I call a recurring tragedy (do you think I’ll get a benefit-concert?)

Well…Elton John concert or not, I am NOT one to wallow.

Instead, I’ll embark on a whole new journey: one that’s filled with romantic lessons, “hunting” tricks, serious crushes, and eventually…a soul-mate .

So close your eyes and grab my hand, as we leap into a brand new era:

2008: Year of the Chick