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Friday 5/6/11, 07:00 a.m.

www.mad-mari.com/2011/05/06/friday-contest

Happy Friday!

Those of you who are regulars here at Mad-Mari.com know I belong to the I-love-Fridays cult. Not just because it’s the end of the work week (except for me, the unemployed, but more on that later) but because it’s my favorite day here on the blog. Every Friday, I invite you to share tales of your bad dates from last weekend, and we all get to spend the day thinking how great it is that ours aren’t the only love lives that suck. Wahoo!

You know the drill, just leave a comment, describing how bad things were on your last date. Most entertaining story—decided solely by me, ’cause, I am master of this here e-universe—gets an autographed copy of my new book.

Now, a bit of good news for me, which might be bad news for you, depending on how much you like to hang out here on my blog. Tomorrow, I actually have a job interview. For a real job. In the real world. AK!

Okay, it’s not permanent—just a summer gig. But I can’t tell you how much I need it. To answer the question before you ask—no, my two books have not made me rich. Some men just don’t seem to get my humor, plus I have a lot of student loans to pay off. (And no, for the last time, I’m not telling you where I went to school, or what I studied. Trust me. It’s boring.)

I plan to spend the day getting prepped—touching up the résumé, brushing up on interview etiquette, plucking my eyebrows. (Ow!) So you all feel free to talk about those bad dates and I’ll check in later tonight, okay?

P.S. Thought for the day: Is it better to be unemployed and happy, or have a good-paying job you hate? Discuss!

Friday 5/6/11, 11:15 p.m.

www.mad-mari.com/2011/05/06/friday-contest

Comment #114

Promised I’d check in! I’m about to hit the hay but wanted to choose a winner from today’s sucky-date contest.

Rachel from Boston wins an autographed copy of one of my books. Sorry to everyone else who entered, but I can’t even imagine what it was like to go on a date with a crazy dude whose opening line was, “I like to sneak into my mother’s room, steal her panties and dance around in them, like I’m Britney Spears.”

Uhh…eww.

Rachel, honey? Please tell me you didn’t let this guy know where you live. If you did, I hope you have a fresh supply of mace. And antibacterial soap. And a lock on your underwear drawer.

Hmm. What’s more disturbing about this story? A grown man’s mother having Britney Spears-ish panties, or her son wearing them?

Okay, gotta run. Please wish me luck on the job interview tomorrow. Can’t tell you more about it—as you know, I like to keep my Mad-Mari stuff on the down low, separate from my real world junk.

But trust me, this job? Well, let’s just say it involves me swimming in a huge sea of testosterone.

Here I go…diving in!

Mari