Tuesday. Out with the girls, I essentially drink my own pitcher of margaritas. As I walk out, there�s a cop giving me the stare down. I approach, and we talk for a few moments. �Yes officer, I know this is public intoxication,� as my hands sit on his hips, his hands on mine, and I raise my foot in a flirty manner that makes my friends giggle that I have the guts to be like this with the man in blue, while he�s on duty.

Wednesday. Of course he called the next day. After several minutes of pleasant conversation, he invited me out for the following week.

Thursday. I buy tickets to a festival held that weekend, and the ticket teller asks me what we�re doing after the festival. �You�re going to tell me that I�m cute and a lot of fun, and then you�re going to ask for my phone number, call me back two days later, and then ask me on a proper date where I will give no input on where we�re going or what we�re doing, merely showing up and looking pretty.� He cut to the chase and asked for my phone number then. By 3 p.m. I had after-work plans made to drink a couple beers before I had to be anywhere. He excessively said, �Long story short,� smoked, and was too young for my liking.

Saturday. I attend the festival that I bought the tickets for, where I mingled with the best of them. I spied a guy trying to dance, made fun of him, and let him chat me up for a bit before getting my number.

Sunday. I accepted an impromptu date from the festival guy, meeting him for three beers. He designs jewelry, travels as often as possible, and rides his bike everywhere. He also adds in useless details as he tells stories. When I ask how you spent your Sunday afternoon, I don�t need details like how many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches you made for lunch. Chop-chop. Move it along.

Monday. Out with the cop. Drinks at a nice bar. The owner showed up and started buying our rounds. Then convinced us that we should go to another bar. The cop flashed his badge, and we cut in line and didn�t pay cover. At the next bar, we sat cozy in a booth as the bar-owning friend chatted up some ladies. Sometime during the cozy booth time, my purse was snatched. Don�t think the irony of getting my purse snatched while out with a cop is lost on me.

Tuesday through Friday. I worked a lot. Bah humbug.

Saturday. This shy guy who has been working it on and off since May had a birthday party. Happy 30th, Shy Guy. You�re oh-so-hot, but you still don�t have much to talk about besides running. Best of luck qualifying for Boston. After Shy Guy, it was out with someone else. When you�re this busy, sometimes you have to double book it. The friends and I had a great time out and about with this guy. The next day he called to tell me he was an idiot. Let�s clarify: An idiot with a girlfriend. And can we still be friends? Um, sure...

Sunday through Thuday. I worked a lot. Again with the Bahs. Again with the Humbugs.

Friday. Happy hour with the guy with the girlfriend. Not because I hate karma. Because there were free drinks and a whole host of people he worked with there, who I�m familiar with. Out with friends. Again, I repeat the stuff about double booking it. Out with the cop. Met his partner. Met his friends. Met his mouth on mine.

Monday. I�m working a lot, but I�ve got a Thursday date with the cop before I head to Vegas on Friday morning.

So there. How�s that for an update? �