TOP SIGNS YOU'RE GOING TO SPEND THE REST OF YOUR LIFE SINGLE

Although you know the batting average of every New York Yankee, you can't remember your girlfriend's dress size or the color of her eyes... or her name.
Let's put it this way: In the "Mr. Hairy Back" pageant, you wouldn't have to settle for the congeniality award.
The makers of "Frozen Meals For One" made you their "Customer of the Year" -- again.
In your world, nothing says "I love you" like a head butt.
You suggest the topic "Top Signs You're Going to Spend the Rest of Your Life Single," mistakenly thinking that your equally-hopeless fellow contributors might give you some clue as to what you're doing wrong.
The 6-inch pumps and leather mini may be a bit too risqué to wear on first dates, mister.
Larry Flynt sends you a letter asking you to put the magazine down, go outside, and get some fresh air.
Back in high school you were voted "Most likely to die alone, in a big-empty house."
Klingon, unfortunately, is not a very romantic language.
You'll master the art of meeting women as soon as they make a PlayStation game about it.
None of your 23 cats *ever* likes your boyfriend.
Your version of foreplay: Drop the remote, brush the Cheetos out of your chest hair, and belch "Come to papa!"
Who has time for dating when you're building a life-size Spock out of Legos?
The last time *you* got a piece of ass was due to some sub-standard toilet paper.
Instead of "Occupant", your junk mail is addressed to "Loser."
It may be an attention-getter, but no guy wants a girlfriend who looks exactly like Dustin Hoffman.
Snatching a grape off a block of ice with your buttcheeks may have had the whole frat house laughing back in college, but it doesn't seem to be much of a hit with your date here at Starbucks.
You're ALREADY in line for "Star Wars Episode 1: The Phantom Menace."
Your HMO has ruled your vasectomy falls under the category of "unnecessary surgery."
You know that 1% of men for whom Viagra *doesn't* work? Bingo.
Nights are so lonely that you watch "Nightline" in hopes of catching a wisp of Madeline Albright's thigh.
Even after years of therapy, you still wear your "cheese pants" because "chicks dig 'em."
No woman can ever seem to make you feel as *alive* as you felt at the TrekMania '74 convention.

Once you've had the President, no other man will do.