"v" stands for "vinyl"

I dunno about you, but I had some hot saturday night plans, and they involved black industrial-strength vinyl and a couple of staple guns. Safety glasses, even. And peach schnapps. You can't forget the peach schnapps. It would have been better had the ex-boyfriend not "borrowed" and not given back all the screwdriver bits, but hey, we made do with a busted leatherman's tool just fine. One side to slip under the staples, the other side to yank out the crooked ones.

And I'm so fucking annoyed these days. Like there's no point to social graces or expectations. Sat on the couch the other day and seriously doubted the reality of "the one", which was weird, cuz I think I've always kind of believed in it, but when you sit down and logically think about it, it just doesn't make sense. I mean, what's the chances of finding them in your home town? Your home country? I think I believe that there's lots of people that can give you love and support and with whom you can create some kind of fantasy, but as I was trying to explain to Jensy last night I think what I maybe believe in is the choosing of the "one" that you are going to give every effort to be with. And I just don't see the point right now in pretending to be anything but exactly what I am. Not that you should anyways, but you know the nervousness that sets in when you maybe like someone and you think that they might not like you blah blah blah. Fuck it. Fuck it all. Surfing online profiles doesn't help, where all the 30-something men are losers and hell if they're smart they're ugly and if they're attractive they're arrogant and is it too much to ask for to find someone intelligent AND stylish? Apparently so. I thought I had stumbled upon it a while ago, but he was dumb and completely void of morals. Good choice, that one. Let's try to do better next time there, nicola. Cuz anything would have to be better than that.