What Kind of Girl I Was

Guys, I can’t tell you what kind of girl I’m going to be when the year is over, or even really hint at what kind of girl I might like to be. But as for where I’m starting out, help yourself:

I graduated from a prestigious West Coast university in 2008 with a degree in Slavic stuff. I’m sure you can only guess how useful that was in a rapidly deflating job market. After working part-time as a not-so-glorified secretary for a rapidly impoverished non-profit, I decided to break up my four-year relationship (we’re still friends), donate my books to a library (ouch, my heart), pack the rest of my meager belongings, and jet off to Boston to try my luck.

Why Boston? I’m hoping to crack the case of the Boston Molasses Disaster of 1919. Um, why else? What can I say: after visiting my sister there, I just had a great feeling about it. (The proximity to her — and to cute Harvard guys — didn’t hurt either.)

I am: a voracious reader; a tone-deaf showtune addict; painfully shy wry-observer type; addicted to planning and hosting elaborate theme parties; a retired bartender; always ready to invent an impromptu drinking game (and beat your pants off at it); probably holding a hot glue gun or a paintbrush as we speak; ready for something more in my life.

So consider us introduced. All other drama is on a need-to-know basis.