Out of hibernation.

For me, inspiration to write often comes from Sex & the City. Today it came from the movie, airing on the USA network on this lazy December day during holiday 'cation. Last night, Kitty Cat, Rory Rose and I toasted to the year 2011 as we creep up on 2012. Tonight KC and I will host the 4th annual Holiday Girls Night, an intimate gathering of sorts, involving friends, wine, food and board games. I imagine we will do some reflecting on the events of the past year and any exciting ventures to come. I must say, I am a bit disappointed in my complete blogging disregard over the past 6 months or so. In my defense, I have been very busy. There is no way to document all that has transpired, but a brief synopsis of the big picture may wet the palette of the few readers that remain faithful :)

I finally (almost) feel like a grown-up. In February, I started dating a wonderful man. This man will be known as Golden Retriever, because like this breed, he is friendly with everyone, eager to please, cheerful and trustworthy. Hard to believe with my track record as resident commitment-phobe, but Golden and I are still in a happy, loving relationship. We have had so much fun together over the past 10 months, and the best part is that everyone loves him. I mean everyone I introduce him to. It is pretty amazing. He's even attempted to share his interests with me- gambling, sports, sports gambling- and I failed to succumb to his attempts. Poor Golden continues to be subjected to my girly vices (he actually just left my apartment. Apparently 20 minutes of SATC was enough for him). Kitty Cat has already put him in charge of creating the Ultimate Sex & the City Trivia Game. Did I mention that Golden is Ivy League educated and quite brilliant? I know... it's annoying.

On top of my great man, I also managed to score a Master's degree and new J-O-B at a stellar local high school. The job is exhausting and emotionally draining, but definitely rewarding.

More big girl highlights:

Attending seven (yes, seven) weddings from April to December. One for my sorority sister, one grade school pal, and two for close friends. I am officially getting old and people are settling down. It is scary, but I have to say, I thoroughly enjoyed all seven weddings. I am a sucker for a good love story these days. Speaking of which, I have been playing matchmaker again. The Kitty Cat Chronicles are continuing with a handsome man not of this island. It's a Christmas miracle!

Cheers 2011... you've been good to me. Elated about what 2012 may bring.

This broad stole my book idea.

The child-man…is the lost son of a host of economic and cultural changes: the demographic shift I call preadulthood, the Playboy philosophy, feminism, the wild west of our new media and a shrugging iffiness on the subject of husbands and fathers. He has no life script, no speak reason to grow up.

Kay S. Hymowitz must be a fan of Sometimes I spew word vomit. Her new book, Manning Up, is essentially an elaborate, thoroughly researched spin-off of "The Man-Boy Mantra" post I wrote in October. After reading a review in Glamour last month, I knew I had to scoop this one up. Barnes and Noble called me yesterday (yes, I'm a dork) to let me know my order was in, and I delightfully picked it up after dinner with my favorite man-boy. I am extremely intrigued by this topic, and look forward to learning more about how these man-children have evolved.

One of Hymowitz's readers commented that in modern culture, "Men are disposable." Homegirl stole that line from Sex & the City. While I can't argue with that sentiment, I will say they are still fun to be around, and if you're really lucky, you might find one worth recycling and become his reason to grow up.

A Novel Idea.

Short term goals: Successfully complete high school special ed student teaching, graduate magna cum laude, obtain masters degree, acquire teaching position of choice.

Long term goal: Write a book and get it published.

Problem: Where do I begin?

Here's the skinny... as often as DWD refers to me as Bradshaw and as much as I love love love the compliment, I am hyper aware of the fact that I am not a literary genius. I am just another girl with a blog, forcing her narcissistic agenda on her readers. (That being said, I am grateful for all you readers).

Lately, my long term goal is superseding my short terms. I blame this on my yet to be diagnosed attention deficit disorder and constant need for intellectual stimulation and excitement. The more and more memoirs I read, the more fascinated I become with the authors, the more I want to meet them and discuss their journey from living their life to putting it in print. Here is where I struggle... I am not sure I have enough material to write a memoir that incorporates enough detail, drama and self-deprecation to fill 150+ pages. Who can honestly recall and vividly describe experiences that occurred over 15 years ago? I have been browned out every weekend for the majority of the past decade. Am I proud of this? No. Did I enjoy myself? Yes. Stay focused, girl. Long term goal. If I can't write a memoir, do I go for a novel? And how do I get someone to believe in my work, get a publisher and important people to quote on the back cover? One of my favorite back cover quotes has to be from Chelsea Handler's My Horizontal Life, "Chelsea Handler writes like Judy Blume... if Judy Blume were into vodka, Ecstasy, and sleeping with midgets and nineteen year olds." This spot-on synopsis sparked inspiration for Handler's second book, Are You There Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea. Anyone that knows me, knows I would die for a chance to meet Chelsea. I am also delusional and convinced that upon meeting me she would fall in love with me and make me one of her minions. Until I attain moderate celebrity status, I am fearful that my memoir will not get past the half off bin at Christmas Tree Shop.

Solution: Write a novel or collection of stories that are loosely based on the truth and appeal to the masses. I have a few novel ideas in mind. One would serve as a guide for the many lost souls swimming in this fish bowl with no redeeming social skills. I seem to encounter a plethora of socially awkward citizens and am perpetually perplexed by their existence in this game of life. How do they continue to evolve and survive when they constantly make themselves and others uncomfortable? I want to produce a book to help them. I am such a giver... ridding the world of social awkwardness, one reader at a time. Novel idea #2 is top secret because it involves a very bossy business partner, but I will say it has the potential to be a work of solid gold trashy lit. Let's just hope I have the drive to take one of these ideas, hit the ground running, and convince someone in a position of power to put my work into many a leather bound book.

Mold your own man.

Holy moly me oh my. It's been a month since I last blogged and a great deal has occurred. It's a new year and I have been a pretty positive puppy thus far in 2011. What I would like to do is begin a detailed account of my fabulous holiday break that involved lots of family, friends, food and fun. Instead, I will spare my readers and focus this post on my silly snow day musing last Wednesday.

The life of a single girl is interesting. Especially a single girl like myself who is indecisive, ADD and uber social. Over break, I let Bear Paws take me to Crazy Burger, my favorite dining establishment in South County. BP and I have a history and recently he has been very persistent and pursuant in rekindling the flame. Because I am a conflicted little kat, I go back and forth between my beliefs about boys. Part of me is a firm believer in the notion that relationships come to an end for a reason and you should never look back. Another part believes in that cheesy cliche, "If you want something bad enough, set it free. If it comes back, it was meant to be. If it doesn't, it was never really yours to begin with." I blame this on my zodiac sign, which I am happy to report is still and always will be a gemini. Good to know I remain charming and crazy. Anywho, Bear Paws and I had a great time together but I did not leave with that zsa zsa zsu feeling that Carrie had with Berger (no, I will not stop relating my life to Sex & the City. I don't care that it's been almost six years since the series came to a close).

Fast forward a couple weeks and I am introduced to Burly Liberal and Caramel YB in the same weekend. Their approach to the dating game is astronomically different. The decade that separates their birth years may have something to do with this. BL and I met Sunday and had dinner together two nights later. CYB and I met Saturday, texted a bit throughout the week, saw each other at a bar the following Friday for ten minutes, and he asked to "chill" immediately following closing time. While this line may have worked in my college days, I think I am past "chillin" at 1 am with a guy I have just met.

This brings me to Wednesday, the day after my dinner date with BL. I had just finished watching "Easy A" and killing a bottle of vino with Reef Rider and my sister. Sidenote: Emma Stone is an unbelievable broad. I want to be friends with her. Stay tuned for a current girl crushes post. After Reef Rider left me, I got to thinking about men and weird science. I have met a lot of good guys in the past year, but not one has knocked me off feet and left me with the zsa zsa zsu feeling. As Carrie said, how can you sustain a relationship without the zsa zsa zsu? I asked Novel Girl if she could figure out what was wrong with me- if she knew the type of guy I needed and why I am never satisfied. Her retort (not verbatim because we bbm too much and the conversation is lost): You need a guy who is intelligent and funny, tall and good-looking, big but not fat big, and who absolutely adores you. Welp, I have not seemed to find all of that wrapped into one big pretty man package. So I thought it would be fun to ponder the idea of molding my own man. My formula went as follows: Bear Paw's flattery and loyalty + Teddy Jams' passion and thoughtfulness + Burly Liberal's brains and life experiences + Enrique Burnham's humor and witty banter + Caramel YB's height and young boy swagger + Beehive Boy's looks and outdoorsy vibe + Rock Lock's wild energy + sexual free spirit = My molded man.

Gentlemen, if you are mentioned in this post, you should be flattered and not offended. You have impressed and intrigued me with some aspect of your personality. I am learning that no man will ever encompass all I want/need in a partner and I have to come to accept individual quirks and flaws. After all, I am incredibly flawed and quirky myself. According to JD, one of my very best male friends, few people "get" me and I still do things that surprise him after five years of friendship. Since I can't seem to find a member of the geek squad to mold my own man, I will stick to the dating game... or just marry one of my guy friends and sign a monogamy-free contract. While my mom may be worried about my relationship future, I am not and neither is Rock Lock: "I'm worried for some... not you. If you moved to NY you'd be locked up faster than NYC Chinese delivery."

Footnote: If you don't recognize the name Beehive Boy, it is because he is a new character whom I have a cafe crush on. I see him once or twice a week at a coffee shop before school and we exchange small talk together with the barista. All I know is that he thinks I'm "cute," with emphasis on the word cute. So far no move has been made to hang out with me beyond the confines of the cafe. While I am fairly certain he's just not that into me, I am not ruling him out of the game just yet.