Robert Sprinkled Me with Pixie Dust

My Three Babies, hey that could be a TV show, no, that was My Three Sons.  Bennie, his friend, Maxie, and my ex, crashing out on my couch a spell watching football.

So what's new?  Not a lot.  Well, yes, since Robert-the-acclaimed-photo-journalist left town, he was like some sort of good-looking good luck charm.  He flicked a little Anti-Invisible Pixie Dust spray on me before he left, like a good warlock, and now men notice me again.  Thanks, darlin'.

In fact, JK turned me on to a new dating site that is the bomb.  It's so much hipper and cooler than stupid POF or old school Match.  But I didn't believe her at first.

"No, it's kewl.  You need to check it out," she IM'ed me on Facebook.
"I can't take any more fuglies, dude," I typed warily.  "That dude I went out with from December said SUPPOSABLY nine times on our date, and he wore a cammo hat," I added.
"Just check it out.  It's fun."

POF should be called POL.  PLENTY OF LOSERS.  Last time I scoped out the TWO hundred mile area, every man had a Magnum P.I. mustache, tucked his shirt in, and had either a 1. cammo cap or 2. Nascar cap, or BOTH perched on their jaunty little head. 

Sit down, take a breath and listen.  I joined, and she was right.  There are SEVERAL good looking, educated men on there who are writing me.   Of the SEVERAL, THREE are from THIS area.  The rest are only a few hours away.

Teeth, check, no cammo or Nascar, check.  Cool jeans?  Check.  Hair, check.  Can spell, check.

Can you stand it?

Stay tuned.