Sexless in the Suburbs.

My life goals come in three different categories: 1. Those that will probably happen. 2. Those that have an equal likelihood of happening or not happening. 3. Those that are absurdly impossible and I obsessively dream about.

Here are some examples.

Goals in Group #1 - Get a steady job that I enjoy. Move into my own apartment or house. Get a smart phone.

Goals in Group #2 - Get married. Have children. Travel to Greece.

Goals in Group #3 - Provide the voice for a Disney character. Start my own sports' network for which I am an extremely biased commentator that makes as many provocative remarks about the athletes as interesting, valid statements. Own a fountain soda machine.

You get the picture. Looking at my life right now, I am baffled. I don't know what I was thinking as a high school senior. In the back of my mind, I thought that after I graduated from college, I would be doing something fabulous. I would be simultaneously changing the world, working a job that I love, living in a big city, dating gorgeous and successful men, and existing on little to no sleep. You know - Sex and the City...without the designer clothes, cocktails, and Miranda.

Instead, I am living Sexless in the Suburbs. Wasting away on the couch, watching every new episode of Piers Morgan Tonight, playing Bejeweled and self-diagnosing on WebMD, unemployed, sleeping during the few hours of sunlight, and only coming into contact with four guys on a regular basis: Dad, Josh, the lovely gentleman who works at the bank, and our dog Prince.

Wow. What happened to my drive? Didn't I get voted 'Most Likely to Succeed' by my graduating class? Didn't I feel ready to take on the world? Where did my ambition go? Did I eat it? Because that would explain my unprecedented weight gain.

At any rate, I need a swift kick in the pants. Instead of working toward the plausible goals in group #1, I find myself creating more unrealistic goals for group #3. Counter-productive.

But, seriously, I came up with a great one: Marry a Staal brother.

From left to right in the last picture: Eric (Carolina Hurricanes), Jared (AHL/ECHL player), Jordan (Pittsburgh Penguins), and Marc (New York Rangers)

The glorious royal family of NHL hockey. Born between 1984 and 1990, these four brothers were born and raised on a sod farm in Thunder Bay, Ontario, Canada. They are all 6'4" and weigh over 200 pounds. They work hard, are super competitive, and have no problem laying a serious hit on each other. Two of them have already won the Stanley Cup. They are the perfect mix of Aryan goodness and the ginger Prince-Harry vibe...and in the words of Santana from Glee, I wants one and I wants one now.

Eric is married and Marc is engaged, so that narrows it down a bit. Obviously, I want Jordan. He's a Penguin and he's beautiful.

But, I would settle for Jared. No doubt about it. I just want to be there for Christmas morning, so I can watch them look in their stockings before playing a pick-up game on the backyard rink. I'm allowed to openly drool over all of them. Sharing is caring, right?

See what I mean? Counter-productive. You are welcome to shatter my dreams and bring me back to reality.

...on second thought, I think I'll just go to Miami for Green Beer Day.