
Carrie: Vagina Monoblog
I just had an intimate encounter with a homeless woman and her vagina. I’m trying to decide whether to call this phase “Rock Bottom,” “Please Make it Stop” or “I Don’t Want to See That.”
Here’s how I met Magda and her lady parts.
As part of my new dating regime, I’ve been chasing after the sexy joggers in my neighborhood park. Literally chasing them. And occasionally tripping in the hopes they talk to me.







My 2008 dating life starts with a big tease. Around New Years, I meet this beautiful, 30-year-old man: funny, brainy, artistic—he's a Salsa junkie--and line-by-line the type of guy I'd love to hang out with. So right along with my being celibate, I make seeing him a New Year's resolution. And get this, not only does he love to talk, but the dancing-computer genius asks more questions than free chips at Chillis--which to me is what sizzling, run-n-tell-your-girlfriends flirting is all about.
The World Wide Web is a great thing. I'm a big fan. That said, a few years back, I never dreamed of the damage a few harmless clicks could have. Particularly when it comes to dating adventures.







