To Write or NOT to Write...THAT is the question.

Well, It has been continually suggested that I write a book. I find this most amusing, when I think about how this all got started. You may call it inspiration, but I call it an accident.

If I can be honest, I have been playing with the idea of writing a book for years now. But then again who DOESN'T? We all seem to think we have an interesting story or a good piece of advice to share with the world at large. However most of us are overestimating just how intersting we really are. I've started drafts of about three of those bestsellers. None of which were about dating or the lack there of, or anything remotely close to the subject. They were of topics much more important to the human condition and frankly much LESS interesting. If I got bored WRITING it, I'm pretty sure you would have been bored READING it.

Make no assumtions about this blog being a sign of my thoughtful consideration of the suggestion. I'm not sure that the world is prepared for the unleashing of my theories about life, love and dating onto the unsuspecting public. It IS kinda fun to think about, but it's not exactly on the top of my list of things to do. I mean...why? For what purpose would I write a book on a subject I know NOTHING about? I just make up stuff that ya'll find entertaining. However, the book titles being thrown my way are quite creative and I'm holding them in my back pocket just in case one day I find that I have NOTHING to do, and SOMETHING to say. Hey that wouldn't be a bad title for a book either. LOL Such suggestions as "The Pineapple Club","I Found Love at the Grocery Store" and my personal favorite "Bridgett Jones Meets Jesus" do inspire dreams of book signings and late night chats with Jay Leno about my world wide book tour. I can almost taste the water that they put in those COFFEE cups for the guests. BTW..What is up with that? Why can't they have coffee? And if everyone KNOWS that it's really water, why not have a glass instead of a mug?

Anyway...I don't really want to be one of THOSE people. I, myself have vowed to NEVER read another singles book. I have tried, but found them to be either depressing or irrelavent. I don't like to read books on "finding love" written by people who HAVEN'T found it! They're doing about as good as I am, only they are making better use of their extra time. On the other hand, I don't really like to read books on "finding love" written by people that HAVE found it either. We've talked about the chemical changes that take place in your brain when you CROSSOVER to the other side. The only memories they have of being single are about planning their weddings. Everything previous to that is permanently deleted.

No..no..If I were going to write a book, it would absolutely have to be called "A Collection of Embarrassing Moments." Not a collection for OTHER people's moments, though that's NOT a bad idea either. This collection would be souly and completly my own, because I've had enough of them to fill up a book all by myself. Like what you ask? Well..I guess it's time for me to take this blog to another level of honesty. The following events DID happen.

One frigid January night I went to dinner with some friends. Our usual hang outs were swamped with people, so we settled on the offical old people's restraunt of America..Craker Barrel. We had a nice dinner and all went out to the little country store at the front of the restraunt to kill some time. I had to use the little girls room because of the gallon of tea I had consumed. I went into the stall and in an effort to save time, did not remove my short jacket and scarf. I did my thing, and stood up. Somehow my scarf slipped off my neck and into the bowl. Of course it couldn't be a store bought ugly old thing that I didn't care about. It had to be a beautiful WHITE hand made token of friendship given to me by one of my closest pals. Though there was much sentimental value I considered FLUSHING it. Thoughts of an evacuation of the ladies restroom because of a flood filled my imagination. I thought to myself, "There may not be enough time for all the old people to get out, and someone could get hurt!" Then I considered LEAVING it. But thoughts of me floundering around for an answer to my dear friends persistent questioning of the wear-abouts of my scarf, made me blush with embarrasment. So, I did the only thing I could do. I fished it out, wrapped it in a ball of toilet paper and began concocting a plan to get past my friends waiting just outside the door. I slowly cracked open the door and saw my group of friends crowded together chatting. I pulled a mission impossible and couched as close to the floor as possible. Lucky for me there was a large display of JUNK being sold for $19.99 near by. After that was tower of assorted jams and jellies, and finally the books on tape carosel near the door. I would like to think that I was sly as a fox, or stealthy like a spy, but truthfully I was more like a scurring mouse. I made it out the door and to my car where I deposited the dripping wet ball of toilet paper into my trunk. Then I collected myself and went back into the restraunt. I walked up to my group of friends who had just spotted me walking in the door. I asked them where they had been, and said that I must have over looked them when I came out of the restroom. I told them how I had even looked outside in the parking lot. We all had a good laugh, and none of them were ever the wiser.

That's the mildest story I have. What do you think? Would you read that? LOL Well.. I thought it was funny anyway. And..YES I washed the scarf! I have a feeling I may forever regret telling this story, and maybe that's the reason I SHOULDN'T write a book.