I am a little ashamed to write this, but it is only fair that I remain honest with all of you.
I am happy with my love life.
I know that some of you do not believe me. You think that this is some crafty lead in to some story about how I was rejected via sky writing or singing telegram.

"Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday dear MindyyyyyDan wants to start dating this girl he met in a chat room so can you please mail him back his sweaters and his toothbrushhhhhhappy Birthday to you!"


Well, it's not. I have no grievances to share. I have no need to verbally slam some clueless man. I am not feeling hurt or rejected or full of girlish pride. I do not feel as if my insides are being stirred around with a fork. I have no desire to eat a medium pizza or a loaf of bread or numbers 127-139 off the China Fun carry out menu. I feel so displaced. Mindy Land is a happy place. Yes, I really did just write, "Mindy Land is a happy place" and I am not going to go back and delete it.

So where do I go from here? How am I to write this column?
I knew this day would come. I knew one day I would sit down to write a column about relationships and men and look up at my computer screen to see:
"Wooohoooo! Ow Ow Ow! I AM A ROCK STAR! Yes! Yes! Yes!!!!!!!!
[she slaps herself on the ass and winks at her perky breasts] HALLELUIAH!"

Yet, I am still not prepared.

Now please do not misinterpret this column as some boastful, euphoric binge. I am sure by next month I will be back to my old self. So, for now, why don't we all just pour ourselves a glass of wine and enjoy this anomaly together. Good.

For those of you who feel cheated and let down by this disgusting excuse of a column, please re-read this from the top¬óbut skip everything after the singing telegram and go straight here, to this alternate ending.

Well it is. You guys know me too well. Yup, I was dumped by a singing telegram.

As I licked the sugary glaze suggestively off my fingers, I went over the events of the past month in my head. I am such an idiot. How could I have fallen for a guy who frequently visits internet chat rooms?! I re-opened the half eaten box of Krispy Kremes and then sealed up the box that contained Dan's sweaters and his blue Reach toothbrush. I was so angry, and yet so utterly confused by the message delivered to me by the singing telegram guy. My birthday was not until June.


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