Ahem.

I came home from work today, and one of my roommates (hereafter, Lezzie Mcguire) gave me this godawful look. Now, as far as I'm aware, I haven't been home since leaving for work this afternoon, so I'm not sure what it is that I'm supposed to have done since then to piss her off, but there it is. Her girlfriend, by the way, will be referred to as Lezzie Borden.

The coworker who is trying to set me up has decided that the perfect first date for me would be dinner at an Italian restaurant, followed by dancing at a local bar. I don't much see it. In response, I decided to tell her that I would be very interested in a girl with a shaved head, tattooes (tattoos? Damn you Dan Quayle!), a British accent, and a black belt. Such a girl would interest me, but she either took it as my ideal girl, or a specific person for her to find for me. Myself, I'm perfectly content to let this sort of thing happen in a more natural manner; meet someone to whom I'm attracted, flirt a little, never ask them out, and die alone.

Maybe I should try it the other way.