My camera has disappeared, leaving me no choice but to draw pictures of pumpkins on Paint. Buy me a Nikon D80 if you would like the madness to stop. Please and thank you.

Dear Kyle from Panera,

You don't know me, but I think you're rather dreamy. My coworkers were teasing me yesterday that my only chance for finding a boyfriend here was to nab a Panera guy, since that's the only public place I really go anymore. I'd like to do just that. I'd like to nab you. Would you mind?

I'd let my fish boyfriend tell you what a lovely person I am, but he's currently dead. You'll just have to take a leap of faith.

It doesn't take much to keep me happy, either. Just stare at me with your gorgeous eyes and feed me Panera goods once in a while. That's it. If you let me watch LOTR and play Sims 2, I'll . . . nevermind.

Just, please let me nab you, even if "nab" is becoming a very weird-looking word the more I type it. I guarantee you won't be disappointed.

Much love,
Rachelskirts

P.S. I didn't even mind that you couldn't make me a mocha this morning because the machine was broken. Your smile fixed everything.

P.P.S. I'm still going to marry Frodo Baggins when he finds me, though. Just so we're clear on that.

Sometimes, I look down at my stomach and wish I could work out for like ten hours straight and magically, like on Sims 2, be completely fit. Then, I fall asleep.

On a semi-related note . . . My coworker caught me warming my toes at the space heater the other day. She asked me if I was cold. I told her that my toes were cold. She told me that maybe I should consider exercising. I wore (hooker-ish) boots to work today instead.