Who no longer has to wait by the mailbox for her unemployment check? THIS GIRL!

Spring has Sprung! The sun is shining. Flowers are blooming. And I've got a pep in my step because MAMA GOT A NEW JOB! I got a call to write for an online fitness magazine. The owner is an ex Mr. Olympia. A good looking brother in his early 50's. Charming. Full of smiles and compliments. And built like a brick shithouse.

After reading several of my articles and conducting a Skype interview, it was finally time to meet my new boss in person.

 The BE FIT Magazine headquarters were situated at the top of a tall, swanky building in Century City. The office had sprawling views of Los Angeles from the beaches in Santa Monica to the hills of Hollywood.  Mr. Fit sat behind his large Carpathian elm desk with his feet propped up Mad Men style.   He dismissed his assistant who had escorted me in, and walked around to shake my hand.  His eyes slowly took me in from the fedora titled on the side of my head right on down to my Giuseppe Zanotti platforms.

"Giovanna!  It is my deepest pleasure to meet you.  You are even more beautiful in person."

I blushed and took his hand as he kissed mine.

"Wow. Thank you. It's very nice to meet you as well.  I love your office.  The views are incredible."

Mr. Fit walked over to his wet bar and began pouring himself a cocktail.  I felt like I was meeting with J.R. Ewing.  Everything's bigger in Texas, they say.

And apparently Mr. Fit was too, or so his super tight trousers hinted.  By the way -who in the hell drinks a double whiskey on the rocks at 11am?  Mr. Fit gestured as if to ask if I wanted a drink too.

"No, I 'm good. Thanks."

"Well you're welcome to come enjoy the views here whenever you like.  If you've got writer's block, come on down here. I'll set you up in one of our spare offices."

"Thank you very much. I'm really excited about writing for BE FIT," I said taking off my hat and placing it in my lap.

Mr. Fit walked around to my side of the desk and leaned back against it just a foot or so away from me. "Giovanna, as I said during our teleconference, I want to encourage you to bring your young, hip style to our publication.  I don't want those tired how-to workout articles.  They've been done to death!  I want fun. I want adventure. I want sex."

I coughed and nervously tucked my hair behind my ear.  "I'm sorry. Did you say you want sex?"

"Yes!  Sex," he said emphatically.  "I want to make this into a sexy magazine. And by sexy, I mean edgy!  I want your articles to lead the way in innovative new workouts.  If the latest craze is couples taking tantric sex swing classes at Equinox-I want you to be the one breaking that story.  Get into those classes! Swing on those swings!"

I took out my notebook and began scribbling furiously.  Partially out of embarrassment but mostly so he wouldn't see me hiding a laugh.  "Well, I'm actually single. So it might be hard for me to attend a couples tantric sex swing class, " I said.

He took a swig of his whiskey and walked towards the windows. "Ahhhh, single. I remember those days. Best days of my life." Mr. Fit climbed up into his window ledge and pressed his nose against the glass.  "Now, I'm just an old married guy stuck in a loveless marriage."  Placing his glass by his feet, he suddenly stepped into a handstand.  Where in the hell was I? Cirque du Soleil!

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "I'm sure married life can't be that bad. Um. I know there's a window there and everything, but you're kind of making me nervous."

He turned right side up.  "You're right. I got three fantastic kids out of the deal. The self-involved, manipulative wife must've been the bonus."

"So...no cocktail parties at your house I take it?"

He laughed just a little too loudly.  "I wouldn't do that to my staff.  I'd like them to stick around.  Enough about me!" Mr. Fit hopped off of the window ledge and I inhaled for the first time since I walked into his office.

"Beautiful Giovanna, let's get you out there on your first assignment.  I want you to write an article on how you stay in shape.  Seven days in the life of Giovanna.  I know our readers want to know how a young, hot, single gal like yourself keeps your body so tight."

I smiled and fumbled to put my notebook back into my bag.  "I can definitely do that.  I've been wanting to take a new yoga booty ballet class at my gym.  So this will be my motivation."

Mr. Fit walked alongside me as we headed to the door of his office.  "I can't imagine you'd need any extra motivation.  I can tell you're ambitious all on your own." As I reached for the doorknob, he put his hand against the hard wood to stop me from opening it.

"If you need anything at all Giovanna, you call me. Anything. I get this feeling around you like I just want to take care of you.  Here's my personal cell phone line."  Mr. Fit handed me his business card.  "You can call me anytime of day or night on that number."

I accepted the card and reached out my hand for a firm shake. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

Mr. Fit took my hand and pulled me in for a big hug. That lasted just a little bit too long.

"Good luck kid. Knock 'em dead out there!"

I smiled and waved almost tripping over a flower pot as I walked towards the exit.  The receptionist pursed her lips and shot me a knowing stare as I said good-bye to her.

This job was going to be interesting.

Did She REALLY Just Offer Me Her Boyfriends Sperm?

I recently celebrated a birthday. It was nice. I was surrounded by my friends. We all did a little dancing and drank some strong cocktails. But my lean lemon lime martini didn't mask the reality that is my life. I'm single, one year deeper into my thirties and according to my mother-my eggs are drying up. You see, I received a very loving text from Mommy Dearest right after the New Year..........

MOM: I WAS WATCHING DR. OZ TODAY. AS SOON AS YOU COME INTO SOME MONEY, YOU SHOULD FREEZE YOUR EGGS.

Thanks Mom. And what's up with Dr. Oz anyway? I think he's brainwashing the world. The last time I got a freaky Facebook message from a guy I barely knew, it was because of Dr. Oz.

FREAKY FACEBOOK GUY: DR. OZ SAYS THE AVERAGE MALE PENIS SIZE IS 5 1/2 INCHES. I GUESS I SHOULD CONSIDER MYSELF LUCKY THAT I AM 9 INCHES AND VERY THICK.

ME: UM...DID I ASK? YOU ARE GETTING DELETED.

So anyway, back to my mom. Naturally, her text message sent me into a complete tizzy. I started trying to figure out how I could get the fast cash to freeze my eggs in case I don't meet someone in the next 3-5 years who would make a halfway decent husband/baby-daddy. Maybe I could sell a few of my eggs on CraigsList? I should be able to get a pretty penny for them. I mean, I'm attractive, healthy, with a good build, college-educated with a high IQ, great head of hair and child-bearing hips.....WAIT A SECOND! There's got to be some other way. I decided to table the issue for now, because I was making myself crazy. Besides, it was almost happy hour and I always think more clearly after a drink.

Luckily, I didn't have to drink alone. My friend Karl called me and said he had an extra ticket to the Lauryn Hill concert in Downtown L.A. Karl was going with his girlfriend, Dana who I'd met a few times, and our mutual friend, Bill. I love me some Lauryn Hill so of course I said yes.

After the show, we stopped in at a cute little Cuban restaurant. As the guys searched for a table, Dana and I bellied up to the bar.

ME: So how's your little girl?

DANA: She's wonderful! Eight years old is such a great age. She's my little stylist. She won't let me walk out of the house unless she approves of what I'm wearing.

ME: That's adorable.

DANA: What about you? Do you want to have kids.

ME: Actually I do. I just haven't met the right guy yet. Maybe I'll end up adopting or something. I don't know.

DANA: Well you're still young enough to have your own child.

ME: Yeah. I know. But I'm not really meeting too many suitable candidates.

DANA: Why don't you have a baby with Karl?

(cue me spitting out my lean lemon lime martini onto the bar)

ME: Me have a baby with Karl?!

DANA: Sure!

ME: Why don't YOU have a baby with Karl? He's YOUR boyfriend.

DANA: I already have a kid. I'm in my 40's. I've been married. I've done that whole thing. But Karl hasn't yet. And he's 53 so he's not getting any younger. I think he'd make a great dad.

ME: Shouldn't you check with him first before offering his sperm?

DANA: He'd do it. We were going to give some to our lesbian friends who wanted a baby.

ME: I think I'm okay for now. But thank you. I think.

DANA: OK. Have it your way. But it's here if you want it.

ME: Bartender? Another drink please!

DANA: What kind of guy are you looking for? You should date a Jewish man. They make great fathers and husbands.

ME: Well I'm a Christian and I'd prefer to marry someone who's also a Christian. But I'm not completely opposed to dating a Jewish guy. I like Jews. I mean-I like you and Karl, don't I?

(in my head: Was that racist?)

DANA: Oh look. The guys got us a table. Grab your drink!