Maybe He's Just Not That Into You...

Shit, a ton happened this week:

I started talking to a guy I met online. He's super cute, and he has a great personality, at least over text, phone, and e-mail. We were supposed to meet for dinner and drinks tonight, but he canceled. I don't really know him, so it's too soon to tell if he blew me off or it was a legitimate excuse...

Work put up all these new firewalls, so not only can I no longer go to my favorite websites like Gawker and Jezebel, but I can't even go to my own frigging blog! Oh, and don't even get me started on how I can't access Facebook either. They're really cracking the whip, and it sucks. Now, I have to wait until I get home to talk to my FB friends.

There are a ton of layoffs in the works at my company, and everybody is sweating it, including me. Because you just never know...

Last night, I took the commuter rail from Boston to visit one of my best friends who lives in Western Mass. We had a blast: drank wine, watched the mag reels and commentary for Tropic Thunder, headed out to a restaurant for some drinks and dinner, then met up with some of her friends at the movie theater to see He's Just Not That Into You. Yes, I'm such a stereotypical girl, I know.

It was a great movie, and I loved all the little storylines. My favorite was the one involving Gigi, played by Ginnifer Goodwin (she's adorable), as the really sweet girl looking for love and not being able to find it anywhere. I think we can all relate to her on some level.

Bradley Cooper is in it, and he's smoking hot, but he plays a super douchebag, so although you want to make mad passionate love to him, you also want to punch him in the balls and throw him down a set of stairs. Also, for all the really big fans of the book, the author, Greg Behrendt, makes a cameo.

The theater was packed with women (big surprise, ha) and about 5 dudes that were obviously dragged there by their girlfriends. They looked miserable. Ladies, don't bring your guys to chick flicks, unless you're secretly punishing them for making that comment about your ass; otherwise, bring your girlfriends.

There was a group of women behind us, and they had big, husky voices like they all smoked two packs of cigarettes a day and they sounded like Marge Simpson's sisters, Selma and Patty. Every now and then, you would hear one of them nudge their friend and loudly blurt out "Ohhh, that's so you, Linda!" Listening to them, my girlfriend and I couldn't stop cracking up. It didn't help that we were three sheets to the wind before we even sat down either.



Left my girlfriend's today to get back to Boston for my date and it didn't even happen. Attention Guys: We know you're clueless, but could you please call or, at the very least, text us to say you can't go out? Don't wait for us to call you to confirm plans. Not cool. I could've spent an extra night with my friend having fun, just sayin'.