86% sure I should make PuppyFinder.com my homepage

I told my dad in Alabama I might just buy a bunch of dogs and call it day. He told me I was going to be one of those crazy old ladies who dies alone and is found decomposing 3 days later after her companions start nibbling at her decaying extremities. Nice thought, thanks dad. He might be onto something though. I'm not entirely convinced that I'm cut out for the whole marriage, babies, mundane lifestyle that everyone else seems to so eagerly pursue. I suppose that's not fair. I'm sure most people don't say, "When I grow up I want to be in a loveless marriage, miserably working in middle management, and come home to 3 kids that despise my existence!" Yet, this is what typically transpires. For some, I think stability and comfort go a long way. For others, the fear of being alone and eaten by your dogs is all it takes. I on the other hand, have ridiculously high expectations for my future and am beginning to think I may have set the bar a bit too high. Please friends, come join me on my fantasy future...

Let's start with the husband piece of the puzzle. I've decided he needs to be at least 6 feet tall with broad shoulders, defined legs, a little bit of a booty, strong jawline, and at least a few veins running through his forearms. Too specific? Just wait. He's got to be driven and inspired by something, have some sort of values he adheres to, a good relationship with his family but not too close to his mother, be well read or at the very least have a good working knowledge of grammar and syntax (don't know what syntax is? need not apply), and finally, an appetite for travel and maybe an accomplished musician of some sort but let's not split hairs. Also, I insist that fantasy future husband adore children, and not in the 'I think they're amusing but don't really want any prolonged contact with them' (this is my line of reasoning and I believe this is not a good recipe for a functioning family unit; I assume someone has to interact with the children). Mr. Rachel Ksobiech must acquiesce to the following: realize I have a very limited concept of the value of money. I will unhesitatingly put down $1200 for a Burberry coat but complain about the price of movie theater popcorn. I am a beauty product junkie and need 92% of the bathroom cabinet, counter and drawer space. If you tell me "No" or I can't do something, you bet your ass I'm going to do it even if I didn't really want to in the first place. I can't speak to you before I've had a cup of coffee, preferably one that you've made. I expect you to pretend to be interested in my take on the Federalist Papers and Anna Karenina. I need specific compliments. Not "you look pretty." We're talking, "I really love how you managed to match your eyeliner to the detail in your high waisted pencil skirt." Some may say that an observation such as this would indicate you're gay. I prefer to think of it as an overly acute sense of your wife's fashion, but you can't say such poetry in public. Fantasy future husband also thrives on yard work and car maintenance. He absolutely adores these activities. Passionate? Romantic? Chivalrous? You bet! Some days he comes home from work early to make dinner (while doing some ironing and light dusting) then doesn't even bat an eye as he rids the floor of it's hastily strewn dinnerware from the fit of passion that transpired after his homemade baked Alaska. Okay, maybe that's a bit much. On to fantasy future tots!

After securing this diamond in the rough husband, we decide to have some well-adjusted, exceptionally bright, impossibly attractive children. Now, I'm willing to compromise on the number of little nippers but they must still fulfill their duties as I've destined them. I need at least one professional athlete, preferably football so I can get great seats and try my hand at soup commercials. Fantasy future husband and I also need a medical professional to take care of us when we are old and decrepit. I'd prefer some sort of surgeon, but general family practice would suffice. Let's throw an accomplished musician or artist into the mix so we look like a well-rounded and inspired bunch. I wouldn't hate the idea of some sort of scientist who's researching a top secret project that can only be described in 6-syllable words. This of course would have to be pursued by our little prodigy who happens to be the least well-adjusted simply because its (I'm not going to be gender specific) brain functions at a superior level than most of its peers. Poor little moppet. Finally, I'd like a war hero who turns its adventures into best-selling memoirs. Your father and I are very proud. I think that about covers it on the...wait I need to come up with one more synonym for child...tadpole (I got nothing) front.

Now do you see what I mean? Perhaps 14% of this fantasy future could be attained. Am I okay with relinquishing the other 86%? Especially after having spent the time committing it to words? It would almost seem like a failure and I refuse to let my imaginary unborn tykes down. Hence, my inevitable future as a dog collecting spinster. In the meantime, I'm not opposed to dating all the wrong guys. I mean lets be realistic, I've got quite some time before I need to succumb to my medley of canines.

Last thought, how appealing would this be as my Match.com profile? Maybe I should just stick to PuppyFinder.com