Pandora's Box

I will never look at a someecard the same ever again. Last week, in humor, when I dropped the news to my date that I was in a delicate way. I decided to be show how humorous I can be by doing it through a someecard. He got his revenge, I suppose, but in a less serious way that I did.

I opened his someecard to find that he has found this blog. In the words of Ms. Piaf: Non, je ne regrette rien. I appreciated his honesty and basically was won over when I read the body of the message:

I like knowing that under your occasionally dizzy exterior theres an articulate, self-aware writer with an eloquent command of the language and a powerful desire to know himself and make sense of the world around him. The combination of goofy twink and thoughtful artist is oh, so endearing.

Can I quote this regularly? I feel like I want this written on two things. My resume and my tombstone. Except when I quote it I may mistake my date with the NY Times. As I said, there is a third date to be had tonight. His sobriquet hasn't been worked out yet, but I have ideas I'm working out in my head.

In other news I have finally discovered Pandora. As usual I am three hundred years behind everyone else. The Music Genome Project? Really? How stunning that I put in one artist and it just works out all the kinks of who I may also like. This will greatly help the improvement of my music knowledge outside of Musical Theater. Like Etta James...

Lady, where have you been my whole life?

Now if I could just figure out the back button?