Every once in awhile I check my stats to see what brings people to the blog and recently found that someone had Googled this..

“over 40 and nobody loves me.”

FYI ~ kewl stuff holds the #2 spot for that search term. Most likely because of my Nobody Loves Me post, which someone commented on at 5:40. This should eliminate any further debate about Google providing the ultimate user experience.

I must admit I’m curious about the person that initiated that sad search. You have to wonder what they were hoping to find? Was the love of their life supposed to magically appear on the first page of the search results?

Or maybe they were looking for a cyber community of other unloved 40-somethings to commiserate with?

Whatever they were hoping to find, I’m sure they didn’t find it when they landed here, despite what Google told them.

But if they were ever to wander back in I would give them a big hug, and tell them it’s going to be okay.

Because I’m pretty sure I never read anything in the rule book that said you can’t find love after 40.

And even if I missed that chapter, all is not lost; because I think they may still have a very promising future as a C&W songwriter. Although I’d be a bit surprised if “Over 40 and Nobody Loves Me” hasn’t already been done.

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How something that poops so much can grow so fast…

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It must be the cool, damp, dreary weather. I’ve got a dozen things to do and I can’t seem to get motivated.

I haven’t even gotten dressed yet today. In fact, I’ve spent much of the day playing online-poker in my PJ’s, with my feet tucked up under me because….

This cool, damp weather also brings the annual invasion of Wolf Spiders. They come in looking for a warm, dry place to winter. Even after all the caulking we did this summer, they’re still getting in. If they’d confine themselves to the basement I’d say live and let live. But they don’t, so the battle is on… for Mr. Kewlstuff anyway. Me, I’ll be standing up on a chair until the first snowfall, when they finally stop coming in. Because these are not you’re average spiders. They’re big and they’re hairy and they laugh as I run from the room. And I swear, if one of them ever ran across my foot I’d go completely mad.

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Everybody hates me. Guess I’ll go eat lick worms.

Ever have one of those days when even the captchas are mean to you?

The worst part is that the song was in my head much of the morning, stuck on automatic rewind. Admit it, since I’ve mentioned it, it’s stuck in your head too. The antidote is listening to Lenny Kravitz belt out American Woman. (Come to think of it, it’s not so much an antidote as it is the title of the song that’s now stuck in my head.)

Our last remaining tomato plant lopped over dead. Like most tomato plants in the area, ours contracted blight. Here’s hoping Hunt’s had a good year.

Anyway, the day hasn’t been all bad. I learned that Tim Burton will be directing a remake of Alice in Wonderland in 2010. And guess who’s playing The Mad Hatter?

Is he pretty or what?

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I awoke alone in bed this morning. For the second time this week I found Mr. Kewlstuff asleep on the living room floor with the pup curled up under his arm.

It appears we’re going to be playing good cop, bad cop.

I’ve got a lot of experience as the bad cop, so I knew exactly what to do… I swatted Mr. Kewlstuff with the newspaper.

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If a suckier band exists on this planet, I don’t know about it. I was just forced to do my grocery shopping to “All Out Of Love”. Normally I’m not a violent person, but by the time it was over I wished for nothing more than to be able to smack them in their mouths. Really hard.

And as long as I’m whining; Mr. Kewlstuff has had a friend of his hanging around the past couple of days, helping him paint. I’ve never cared for this guy. Not that he’s ever done anything to me personally, I just find him obnoxious. And he calls me “Hon.”

So they’re working just outside my office this afternoon, and I keep turning the radio up so I can’t hear his annoying voice. The volume is cranked so high right now that my desk is vibrating. And I still have to get through dinner with him. Again.

I think the universe is conspiring to try to get me to smoke today.

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Some friends of ours are having their 3rd annual pig roast this month. We got the invitation last week.

Since we missed the 1st and 2nd annual pig roast, I think it’s safe to assume we won’t be attending the third either. And not just because they like to consume huge amounts of alcohol, then do dumb stuff like shoot skeet. Nah, it’s mostly because they listen to country music.

But I must admit that I am curious about one of the activities they have on the agenda this year…

Sure I know what a wet t-shirt contest is. But a redneck wet t-shirt contest? WTH is that?

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I woke up ravenous this morning. So I head to the kitchen only to discover that my evil twin did the grocery shopping last week. My Fruit Loops had been replaced with Cheerios, my Pop-Tarts with rice cakes. I hate when that happens. Note to self; Don’t go grocery shopping the same day you discover that a third skirt won’t button because of the four-pounds you’ve gained since Christmas.

Okay. That’s a lie. I think I’ve now gained eight. I quit smoking in May. I just didn’t mention it in case I fell off the tobacco wagon. But on Aug. 6th, it’ll be 90 days (and four pounds) since my last cigarette.

So, I guess I’m just going to have to step up to the plate and start excersising vigorously jogging walking every day now and then. Obviously dancing in my chair while I work isn’t burning enough calories for my new non-smoking metabolism.

The good news is that garden is now supplying fresh (low-cal) veggies.

I don’t know how it happened, but we planted enough yellow squash to feed the entire county. Either the nursery mislabeled the plants, or we both grabbed them and didn’t take inventory. We may have to start hiding them in peoples cars when the stop to visit.

I’ve been sauteing them in olive oil with some fresh garlic and chopped onion, but after eating them nearly every day this week, Mr. Kewlstuff is starting to roll his eyes. If you have any good recipes, or know how I can hide it in other foods, I’d love to hear about it.

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The last two months have been packed with parties, dinner dates, out-of-town relatives and local festivities.

I’ve had about all the merriment I can stand for one summer.

But I did learn a couple of things this weekend.

First, the red/green indicator on the Porta-Potty door is not a true indication of whether it’s occupied or not. To the dude I walked in on; you needn’t be embarrassed when next we meet. I won’t recognize your face.

Second, there’s a skank at every gathering. No need to mention names, you know who you are. Everything about you is inappropriate. Your dress, your conversation, your behavior. Everything.

You do know that the rest of us were placing bets on when your boobs are going to fall out of your shirt right? I realize that men appreciate a little cleavage, but I think they also like something to be left to the imagination. And golly, if we women wanted to see boobs, we could look at our own at anytime.

FYI, openly lusting after an eighteen year-old when you’re old enough to be his mother (come to think of it, you are older than his mother) is beyond inappropriate. Your SO showed a helluva lot of restraint. I don’t condone men hitting women for any reason, but, had he only asked, there were a number of women there that would have gladly taken care of that for him.

I hope you’re prepared to pay for the years of therapy that poor kid is going to need thanks to your advances. He hasn’t stopped gagging since.

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