Give me Farty Icees, or give me death

Eye Color: Green
Behind: Slightly dimpled
Mood: Grumpy

Friends, it is not coincidental that right when everything in your life seems to be going ok, something small happens to fowl the whole thing up.

All this week, I have been on a real "my life is great" kick, and it's been fun, culminating in a tasty treat at the Tasting Room last night with Lindsay and Sam. I was feeling almost 30, flirty, and thriving.

However, this morning, a micro-rejection (extremely small, practically unidentifiable rejection from unnamed male) set me up for a real pity party. Why does this always happen? The easiest solution to avoiding micro-rejections is to stop going to church, so as to minimize all contact with a-sexual 26-34 year old Christian men. Alas, this just won't do. The hardest solution is, of course, to look real life, filled with its blooming present moments of happiness, sadness, acceptance, and rejection and say "this is my life - this is it, and I'm ok with it". Can I be real? Loving yourself and trusting God can be a real *$&#%^$ sometimes!

So, my micro-rejection. I'm embarrassed to say that micro-rejections, like paper cuts, can ouch the most sometimes for me and put me into a temporary slump that is quite pathetic. Let's break things down:

1) Leslie flirts with/talks to/looks in general direction of u.m. Feels good about herself for being brave and therefore anticipates validation and/or reward.
2) Leslie experiences micro-rejection from U.M. These can come in many forms - common denominator - they are insignificant and the whole thing is just kind of stupid.
3) Leslie goes shopping by herself for domestic items and shoes, slowly developing grumpbot attitude about micro-rejection.
4) Leslie drives in hot car with broken air conditioner, sweating like a dog in heat. As temperatures rise to dangerous levels, so does Leslie's grump level.
5) In a last ditch effort to drown her very temporary sorrows, Leslie drives to favorite icee locale to purchase delicious coke icee from farty icee machine (the kind of machines that make icees so thick that they make obscene noises as they flow out of the machine). Icee machine is not only not farty, but runny.
6) Leslie dumps diarrhea icee in trash and heads for home in scortching, small-dog killing car heat.
7) Leslie whines to roommate.
8) Leslie receives call from former, now happily married roommate just returning from alaskan cruise.

Brilliant. Pathetic. Whatever.

Right now, I don't want to flirt. I don't want to date. All I want is to drink a large, thick, farty icee, and I can't even make that happen. Well, maybe I could drive around to a few exxon stations, but, to be honest, that feels too much like flirting and dating. I'll pass.