OK, faithful readers, I am going to make a huge confession here: I loooovvee self-help books.
If you remember a ways back, I did once admit to reading the Deepak Chopra. Hell, I even took it with me on the Fourth of July. My friends berated and deflated me for it, but I unapologetically read on the beach, sipping out of my Coors Light cold-activated can, swearing up and down that my “Up Guru,” (it’s really “upa guru,” or “self” according to my man Dee-pack, but I prefer to say Up Guru, as in like the little woman inside me who always knows what she wants to do, which is usually sipping out of a cold-activated can in a bikini on a beach somewhere.)
I never used to read this shit. But, like I said, I get a lot of free books at my place of work, like on how to be happier, make more money, etc. Hell, I even thumbed through “The Secret” on a Greyhound once. It’s a helluva lot cheaper than therapy, and much of it is the same shit. But, much like getting backstage, out of jury duty or talking the bartender into letting you smoke in the bar, you just got to apply yourself to get what you want.
So, now I’m reading a book on finding a Real Man. Since I am a serial dater of alcoholic dickbags, man childs, insecure assholes, the unemployed and so on, I am thinking that I could use some help in this arena. There is no reason I can’t use this “Secret”-like action to scoring me some real action with someone who has an address and can afford to pay their cell phone bill.
This new book I’m reading (and, no, I’m not going to tell you what it is) actually makes some good sense. It’s about the focus on the search for your Half Orange—the other half to your orange, or something or other. So, to complete my orange—the Apollonia to my Prince (that’s right, it’ s my board, so I can be Prince), the Johnny Marr to my Morrissey, or just to put together that werewolf/vampire threesome, I just got to put out positive vibes to the universe and sit and wait and keep on keeping on.
So, my project this holiday weekend is to put on a little Whitesnake, grab some cardboard and tape and tack together my Motherfucking Dream Board. I’ve already started collecting images for my most perfect Dream Board. It already includes Justin Timberlake, the Bahamas, nachos and a cocker spaniel.
Also, this power of positive thinking is already working…I’m sure of it. This morning on my way to work, I already had a ton of dudes check me out, including one very cute Frenchman who was like, “Where are you going?”
Ok, send me ideas for my Dream Board, ’cause once it’s done, you know there’s a picture going up. And it will be ridiculous. Ridiculously awesome.