i hope we can still be friends, though...

I imagine from time to time, some of you experience a strong desire to ask me on a date. We've formed a really great relationship from the comfortable barriers of our computers, but now you think it's time to take things to the next level, so one day you give yourself a little pep talk, maybe jot down a few thoughts that are equal parts witty and charming on a piece of scratch paper to help you figure out what you're going to say when you finally decide to take the plunge. I completely understand, and I want you to know that I absolutely appreciate your interest.

However, before you go to all that effort, I feel I should tell you it's impossible for me to date you. Oh, rest assured, it's not because I don't like you! I would absolutely go on a date with all of you! Not at the same time though, because I'm not really into that kind of thing. No, believe me. It's not you. It's me! For one, I'm married! I know, I know! All I can say is where were you between November 1992 and November 1993? You could've had me!

The second reason I can't date you? Well, my Saturdays are pretty much booked for the foreseeable future with this:

In case you can't see what that is, it's my DirecTV on-screen guide with Saturday's premiere of the Jonas Brothers' television show set to record at 7 p.m. If you look even more closely, you'll see it's set to record for the season. Yep. That, my computer paramours, is what I, your dream girl, will be doing Saturday night. Of course, when I say 'doing' I mean 'watching,' but, well, you know... Do I expect greatness? No. Do I anticipate cringing at least 15 times during the 30 minute program? Yes. Will I marvel at the scant bit of Joe's chest hair I've noticed when commercials for the show aired this morning. No comment.

Maybe we can go out on Friday night dates. Sure, I'll still be married, but I'm usually not doing anything on Friday nights. That's if I've not scared you off completely. Did you notice that the little screen-in-screen in the above photo is from this week's episode of The Office? Combine that with the fact I think you're all so very cute and you know I actually do have some sense of good taste!

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In addition to my good taste, I'm also quite a looker. Or something like that. According to my young son, I'm apparently far younger than my 41 years could potentially lead you to believe. As my youngest son and I ventured to the bus stop this morning, he looked up at me and declared me much younger than his music teacher. "Honey, that's very sweet of you, but your music teacher can't even be 30 yet, so Mommy's a bit (a bit -ha!) older than her." I replied. "But you don't look as old as she does!" he said. "She looks a lot older than you!" I encouraged him to go on, his words a much needed compliment in light of a recent horrible haircut and an undying zit on my chin. Later in the day, I visited my son's school for a music program, and met the infamous young, but old music teacher, and damn if my kid wasn't just trying to butter me up! I do look far younger than she does! My delight was short lived, though, when, after thirty minutes spent watching some of the kids she attempts to teach every day, I realized she's clearly earned every wrinkle, and that while she may not have an undying zit, there's no way I could do what she does every day.

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When I returned home from the elementary school, my oldest son immediately ambushed me at the door and informed me I had to thoroughly wash my hands. "In case you haven't heard, there's an outbreak of the swan flu going around!" he enthused. While I've not yet heard the news today to know if this is a potentially new pandemic, I imagine symptoms of the swan flu include feeling like a fairy tale princess and/or overhearing people whispering about what an ugly little duckling you are. Based on my horrible haircut and undying zit, I'm pretty sure I have a raging case of the swan flu, and now there are three reasons why I can't date you!

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Speaking of my charming older son, he's been assigned to make a balloon-powered vehicle for science class next week. Tomorrow, he has to take a prototype to school, and yeah! He informed me of that about 15 minutes before his bedtime tonight. Normally, he works on these types of projects with Tool Man's assistance, but as luck would have it, Tool Man isn't home. This left my son and I staring at each other, deflated as his non-existent balloon-powered vehicle. "If Dad was here, he'd know what to do" he muttered. "Listen, according to your brother, I may look young, but I'm not clueless!" I replied. "Yeah, but you're not a buildy, worky type person like Dad," my son said. Clearly the kid has never seen his Dad's caulk jobs (which I'd link to, and you know I would, but that caulk is all over the place already)(literally). As you might imagine, my son's implication that I am neither buildy or worky compelled me to declare game on, and I immediately took to the Internet for ideas. Thank you, sweet baby Internet! In less than 30 minutes, we transformed drinking straws, wooden skewers (I knew one day the 2,000-plus wooden skewers I've had for the last 13 years would come in handy!), duct tape, an empty pop bottle and four pop bottle lids into this:

Not to toot my own horn too much, but I think this shows I'm not just bookish, my friends.

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It should be noted that to help build this balloon-powered vehicle (which I hope works because while I may own more than 2,000 wooden skewers, I don't have balloons in the house to test this with), I downed four large bottles of Diet Mountain Dew after 9 p.m., including one in the delicious Code Red variety. Suffice to say, I'm a wee bit hopped up. If we were in a dating relationship, this is when you'd probably be able to take advantage of me because I'm just that easy after a few drinks, and that Code Red packs a punch. But alas, no dates.

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Comment responses. Oh, they're still coming back sometime. So are the two tags I've recently been given. For now, I need to go work off some of this pop and call it another lonely day. Oh! One more reason why it's probably best we don't date. This post? SUPER RAMBLY! Proves that if we did go out, I'd be sitting across the table from you going on and on and on about myself while you pushed your dinner around with your fork, then used my brief pause to excuse yourself to the bathroom so you could sneak out on me. Well, let me do that for you instead. Seriously. I just drank triple-digit ounces of Diet Mountain Dew. I really, really, really need to go to the bathroom.