I�m about to go on a power-dating spree. I have no problem with trying to fill this weird void-as-of-late with feelings of whomever I encounter (as long as they�re masculine, funny, intelligent, non-smoking and cute).

I have to confess� The Heart Breaker and I are trying to be friends. He came over Tuesday night to watch �The Bourne Identity.� I know, I know �Why are you torturing yourself?� is the question I also pose. I feel like I need to understand this� my feelings� why I�m attracted to someone I know could never treat me as I deserve? Someone whom I�m only half on the same page with most of the time? Someone whom is hardly an outwardly-caring individual?

Bah.

Alias
Last night�s was the best episode I�ve seen since season 2. Sydney in that pink sweater, Capri pants and Keds � tumbling around a car dealership shooting at another Stepford-wife-esq chick? Seriously. Hats off to you, writers. It was humorous, but also held a feasible storyline. And the helicopter crashing into the house? Just the big-action-flick punch that I needed.

Gym
Despite my naivety, multiple sources have confirmed that my gym is packed full of the homosexuals, however more of the closet-case assortment. Last night I decided to be a little aggressive in this theory. In the gym these days, I feel pretty confident and testosterone-filled. That would probably explain my boldness in making repeated eye contact with someone who kept blippin� up on my radar. Probably about 5�10�, 180, 34ish, all-American� wooftastic if you will. Probably 6 times through the course of my workout we made eye contact. Despite my most focused �Beeeee my boyfriend� staring efforts, I received no solid confirmation. I�m not through with you, Wooftastic. You�ll see.

More inanimate anger
Arriving from the grocery last night, I was washing some grapes. I was excited since I LOVE GRAPES and these were truly perfect. Red, seedless, magnificently ripe � the kind that when you pierce them with your teeth, they practically pop. So while washing my little bundles of joy, one by one they kept falling off and rolling into my dirty ole� sink. I always expect to lose a few to the cause, but next thing I knew it was 6, 7, 8 � then 12, 13, 14 down the drain� I kept repositioning my hands as to prevent further casualties, but they wouldn�t stop. Feeling as though I was losing all control and becoming increasingly irritated with the rising toll of lost pleasure, I stressfully and angrily exclaimed, �UGGGHHH!!! FUCK YOU, GRAPES!� I threw the bundle back into the bag and hurled them into the fridge. Whatever.

This Old crumbling Office
There�s a little lamp on my desk that I always turn on when I arrive. It�s a subconscious action at this point, really. However, I noticed yesterday it was nearly 2pm and it remained off. Even my subconscious is ready to ditch this place.