Oh, hey, no one!

So fine.

I did it.

I proved to (who, exactly?) that I could live alone.

Just me, my thoughts, my dog, and the occasional random overnight "guest".

I've cooked cous cous with chic peas.

I've tastelessly eaten the leftovers.

I've regretted said meals, yet made them again. Because I have the same food a dude would.

And because my kitchen is in fact in my living room, and my microwave pretty much takes up any counter space I once had.

I've watched NY1 until I fell asleep out of sheer boredom. Because I can't afford cable.

I've appeased every modernist perception of where a 27 year old chic should be right now.

Oh! On her own! Livin' on the town! She's got no cares, she'll stare you down!

But the truth is. I thrive on company. It inspires me.

So after having entirely too many moments of being deep for someone that is as shallow as myself, I decided to look for a roomate on craiglist.

Little did I know this also meant subjecting myself to rape every time I had an "appointment."

Stories of that to come later today/tomorrow.

(Sorry it took like 5 months for my second post, although again, I'm apolozing to no one, as according to this site I "Dont have any followers yet)

Peace out, no one!