Joe thinks he's identified "my type". Little did he know his theory would actually make it round 8 desks or so and get right back to me (thanks Em). And I quote...
**I'm just sayin'...
Apparently I have standards and apparently I'm walking around with them tattooed on my forehead. Or my ass (venturing a guess here, since I'm pretty sure my ass gets far more attention than my forehead). So... if you're a tall, lean, well traveled man in the Minneapolis/St. Paul metro area, feel free to woo me with romantical musings. If you've just acquired a kitten your points will go up.
Joe has a solution - and he's married so he thinks he has some credibility. He's also a man so he thinks a lot of things that are *not* based in reality. He and Steve are taking me to lunch with the Russian mafia tomorrow. Yes folks, I'm a little afraid for my life and I'm not afraid to say it... if I don't blog by tomorrow evening send help in the form of unmarked bills to the Skyway Cafe something 'er other.
Not that going to lunch has anything to do with Joe's solution, but he thinks has one. I'll let you know if he shares.
**(Sorry, have to briefly mention how much I *LOVE* the phrase "I'm just sayin..." Just like I love the phrase 'whatever.' Perfect fillers. Perfectly describe the complexities in my head in just a few precisely beautiful characters. Rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?)