Ok so I found out a few things last night with Pam at about midnight.
One thing. Reading statistics is amazing.
There is country in the middle east where ONE THIRD of all marriages are a result of abduction.
As in, "I think its time I get a wife, I'll just go bind gag and steal me a pretty little one."
I should get my passport renewed and trot over there right now.
Ok another amazing fact: There are 126 men to every 100 women in Lower Manhattan.
Hi! Really!?! Cause WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY?
Are they all hiding in an apartment somewhere snickering about how they have tricked us into thinking they don't exist?
As I said to Pam last night, single men in New York are unicorns, they are urban legends, they are love gnomes, they are definitely not real and they are a glorious figment of our imaginations.
According to statistics reports from last May....I am wrong. They are here.
Probably all in Tribeca counting their money and having their housekeepers iron their underpants.
I refuse to tell what we did after we looked at statistics (vitalstatistics.org ) because it is something all women research, but never ever admit to. I will just say, it was absurdly girly and ridiculous and I don't even want to be that person again. The ice around my heart melted which makes me uncomfortable.
The point is, it gave me the full body giggle. Which is like. When you're so excited you tap your fingertips on your face really fast and you can't really breathe.
In my next life I do not want to be born with a vagina because it creates an abundance of sentiments.
In case I don;t sound creepy enough yet, I also checked the lunar calendar for today, and its a good day for being gentle and helping to heal others.
How about that?
But I'm fucking terrified for Tuesday because this is what the lunar calendar predicts..."A very dangerous day. Be aware of criminals. Save your energy - do not argue, do not be active today. A good day for fasting and cleansing."
OH. MY. GOD.
I trust and follow astrology, but that is really extreme. It makes me want to put on a baby onesie and hide under my bed.
Now I want to take a shower to wash off my fear.
And i want to eat a quesadilla.
Pam told me she listened to a podcast thing where a grown man said he thought for his whole life that Quesadilla meant "what the deal?" in Spanish.
Cutest thing ever?
Aside from kittens sleeping on top of big dogs.