a good man is hard to find.

I never thought I'd be put in a position of having to say MAN THE FREAK UP to every guy I encounter in some sort of relationship situation. But then again, I also never thought I'd be subjected to country Christmas music at work, so there you are. I know those two points alone make you think my life has no redeeming value whatsoever. I agree. I deal.

So the way I see it I have two options before me:

Option A (preferred): Star as Jason Schwartzman's love interest in a Wes Anderson film.

Option B (also viable): Take my guns and my dog (wolf hybrid named Laska) and retreat to the solitude of a one-room cabin on a far away piney mountain.

Decisions, decisions.

But the truth is, there are zero men to be found anywhere. (Bitter-esque rant: Ambivalent lazy cry babies abound, though. I'm tempted to make a highly scientific study of this. But...no.) They just don't make 'em like Ron Swanson anymore. ("He’s a conservative libertarian who loves woodworking, breakfast foods, hunting, and fishing, and he keeps a sawed off shotgun in his desk." Yup.)

What's a girl to do.
Go cry, emo kid, go cry.