Year of the Chick Read Online Free PDF Page A

my update. Maybe years from now I’d reveal it at a drunken pool party (where I’d look so hot in a bikini), but today it made my family seem like freaks. So I explained the rest of the tale and finished with the action plan: “Which means I have to meet an amazing guy this year. Then I have to make him fall in love with me. Then maybe get engaged by the end of the year.” I nodded as my affirmation grew. “Because my parents can’t hook me up if I’m engaged!”
    Eleanor poked at her salad, never looking me in the eye. “Engaged? Well I guess that’s a goal. But wait: does this mean you’re actually into guys again?”
    I gasped.
    “I was never NOT into guys, I just wasn’t looking! And why do you say it like that?” I frowned. “Did someone tell you I’m gay?”
    “No one thinks you’re gay! You were just…taking a break. Good for you!” She finished with an awkward smile.
    I rolled my eyes. “Look, I know I’m almost twenty-eight and I haven’t had a date in two whole years. Ugh, I shouldn’t be saying that out loud.”
    Amy shook her head. “You really shouldn’t.”
    “Yeah, I got it. It doesn’t look good if you’re Canadian, or Indian, or alien. I just wanna know how to get back in! Where do you go, where do you meet them? Has dating changed in the last two years?” I sighed. “And you might have to be really detailed here, ‘cause I wasn’t very good at it then.”
    Amy answered first, as I eagerly awaited all the wisdom.
    “But you don’t just walk into a ‘guy store’ and pick one up. I mean that’s what your parents are trying to do, and you don’t want that! You’ll probably find someone special when you’re not even looking.”
    That’s the best she’s got?
    Realizing quickly that “relationship girls” were useless in these matters, I turned to Eleanor with a smile. “So what if I AM consciously looking, what should I do?”
    She crossed her arms and beamed, enjoying the conversation spotlight. “Well fifty percent of the world is guys. So get out in the world and check ‘em out! You might even have some fun along the way. Just don’t spend every night at home in your fuzzy pajamas with a slab of cake. Fuzzy pajamas and cakes are for girls who’ve given up or for girls who have a cold!”
    This young-faced hottie was right. When was the last time I’d visited a trendy bar? Which ones were “in”? Which ones were tainted by cougars on the prowl? I’d need to sap young Eleanor of her knowledge, and maybe even ask her how she’d sculpted out the butt of my dreams.
    Eleanor tossed her napkin in the waste bin and gasped. “Why didn’t you take your Christmas box home?”
    I sighed. “Do you know…how much…it disappoints me, that our employer gives us THIS as a Christmas gift?” I hauled out the heavy cardboard box from underneath my desk, setting it down on my lap. “I mean look at this; a bag of old fashioned pancake batter, and gourmet chocolate cookies that don’t even appear to be made from real chocolate.” I sneered as I set each item on my desk. “And wait, there’s more! Some ugly-ass wooden tray that weighs ten pounds, a bottle of olive oil, and some cheese spread that was packaged god knows where and when. I bet these are all a bunch of reject products from a warehouse!”
    I tossed the items back in the box and shook my head. “Do either of you want it?”
    Amy frowned. “Most of that stuff is still sitting in my kitchen. None of the food even tastes good.”  
    “And THAT’S the appreciation you get for a year of working hard.” I dropped the box with a thud, and used my foot to push it back in its spot. “Let the cockroaches eat it.”
    My irritation was replaced with a nervous shiver, when I glanced at the display on my desk phone. A report was due in two hours. Too bad I hadn’t even started.
    “Alright ladies, it’s time to break this up.”
    Amy raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you keep your lunch to an appropriate