And, in other news, Nathan has an itchy rash!

It's almost here--that internet phenomenon known as Blogshare! If you're unfamiliar with the concept, this is the brainchild of the lovely and talented -R-, wherein bloggers across the 'sphere publish posts written anonymously by different bloggers. So, on Wednesday, you will find an anonypost here, and my own anonymous ramblings will be pushlished elsewhere. Where? I'm not saying. You'll have to try and guess. A list of participating blogs will be published along with the posts, so you can spend an entire day reading what will undoubtedly be a whole bunch of funny, sad, heartrending, ridiculous "confessions."

I spent Valentine's Day in the most pathetic way possible, on the face of it. I had lunch with my middle-aged cat lady friends, and dinner with the "Nensa" nerds. It's almost poetic, isn't it? (Though, I must say, it was the most enjoyable "Nensa" meeting I've attended...one of the members was on "Peojardy" a couple of months ago, and she talked about the audition process before we watched a tape of her episode. I now have a new goal in life--I want to be on "Peojardy," too.)

Strangely, I got more chocolates this year than one person really needs. From: the owner of the company I work for (it's a tradition), my direct boss, her son (I'm guessing--they were left on my desk while I was out Friday afternoon, and he often adds to his mom's contribution), and two of my cat lady friends. A nice haul! Including an old-fashioned candy lipstick. I didn't know they still made those. I mean...don't today's young girls start troweling on the makeup like little prostitutes at an early age, leaving no need for candy beauty products? Heh.

I had lunch yesterday with Mr. Short Term. (Calm down--it's no more serious than it ever was.) And to prove it, I'm email chatting with a few different guys, as well. One of whom is, I believe, clinically insane. Good thing he doesn't have my real name or number. One other of whom I believe I've mentioned before--the nice guy still not quite divorced. The two of us are having quite an extended, enjoyable email relationship. We've exchanged over 100 messages in the last three weeks or so, and we've even tackled religion and politics without pissing each other off. No plans to meet, or anything...I think at this point he just needs someone to talk to, as he navigates the tricky field of returning to the dating world. A world he never really inhabited, actually...he married the third girl he dated, and the first girl he went out with more than twice. To someone who's been dating since the Reagan administration without ever making it down the aisle, that's just...wow. Anyway, I enjoy talking to him. He's very articulate and well-spoken. (Well-typed?)

And who's this Nathan, I hear you asking? Oh, just some poor shlub who called a wrong number early this morning (mine), and left a detailed message for his employer on the machine. A "work-related" rash requiring a visit this morning to the dermatologist? And co-worker "Chris" is having the same symtoms? Hmm.... Fortunately, he left a number, so I was able to call him back and let him know his message went awry. Didn't want the poor guy to be fired, after all. Isn't an itchy rash on a Monday morning enough to deal with? He seemed a bit embarrassed. I would, too, if I'd just told a total stranger the details of my dermatological private life.

And with that, I'm off to scratch my own rash. Or, you know, do some work. Whichever.