Laughing with you, not at you

I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure this guy on OKCupid doesn’t have the right strategy to find himself a soulmate. What do y’all think?

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I try not to talk about online dating too much because it’s mostly boring and I don’t feel like going through the typical thing when I met someone like “Oh my gosh, are you going to write about me on your blog?” No, I’m not. Because I write about funny things and you are painfully boring and a horrible tipper.

But, one email I just had to share. This one guy asked me out for dinner on a night when I was busy so I suggested lunch – seemed like a nice enough guy on his profile so I thought nothing of it until I opened this gem of an email (my comments in bold, his crazy rant in regular type)

“Hi again, I told ya that I would email ya after I ate something to fill my belly (my eyes are already bleeding from the grammatical errors and gratuitous emoticons)

Anyhioo, darn, you have a date tomorrow evening?? Darn for me – but, what’s nice is that I am special enough to get lunch  hehehhe   And we all know that lunch is the best meal of the day!!   I’m being cute – can’t you tell? (No, I can’t tell because I’ve never head any one say that lunch is the best meal of the day. Not a single person.)

Okay, here’s the deal: I get to hae may little baby girl tomorrow and then having to meet my ex to give her back at 1:00   Now I know she is going to have her boyfriend with her anyhow, so maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you were there too. (You’ve never met me and already I’m a pawn in your baby mama drama. Absolutely negatory.) It’s all up to you, trust me, there will be no drama between you two – she was the one who cheated and screwed up in the first place.  Long almost 9 year story, of no money, then a great job, then she got a great job, then we went to lunch / dinner all the time – went to sandals in the bahamas a couple of times, once for 9 days the other for 7 days, anyhow, the economy went south. I was working in the high high end construction industry – my hours wer cut to almost nothing, it wasn’t worth the pay/ drive, and sinking too. I ended up quitting after some more reasons, one of which my boss (Syrian devoted muslum) said to me “your wife is the one having the baby, not you, you need to be here)  enough said.. (I can’t even….)

Anyway, her mother, who also is a money hungry person, convinced her to move on away from me and find a money guy – she did, well now, I am 99.9 % sure I have this new job, I’m going for the 3rd and final interview on monday, but it’s not really an interview. It’s more like a, let’s see if we all like him sort of thing – The boss called me and said that he wants me to meet everyone in the dallas office to see if we are all on the same page that I will be a good fit for the team!!! YAY!!!!  (If your new job involves frequent exclamation points, you’ll be a freaking ace!!!!!!!!)  Besides that, she was banking on the fact that I wouldn’t be able to afford this apartment and she would get it – Wrong… sorry, my family won’t stand for that, so, I am still here, I just purchased another car last weekend, and everything is on the up m up now!!  YAY!!! again…  Can you tell that I am happy?  hehhehe    Only prob is now I am alone, I don’t have a date to get to know anyone right now, so that is why I am on match.   I am not a player, nor do I have that “pick up” style, what I do have is an easy happy go lucky personality.  When it comes to romance, I know how to get serious, and turn it on (Guess what’s not a turn on? Going on and on in an insane fashion about your ex-wife and your lengthy trips to the Bahamas)  – but I need to get to know someone, then I make a move when the time is right. That’s the way it should be anyhow. I also enjoy it if a woman makes the first move too, who doesn’t??

You are most likely wondering where I live: (I AM MOST LIKELY NOT WONDERING THAT!) Random name apartments in a two  bedroom all by my lonesome   More to that long story – that’s the reference I made in my profile of going through the war and back…
If you like you can google earth it – do the street view and you will see what I mean about gorgeous apartments, not only rthat, it’s the community with the lake, walking trails, the canal, the homes, the school, it is the perfect spot!  My building is address of place where bad things probably happen.
I really would like to take you up on that luch offer, 1 ish tomorrow?

I’ll send a pic of my little girl along with some more night shots of my lake area that I took, yes, I was the photo geek in High school, along with a buch of other stuff… We’ll talk about that later, I also want to hear more about you -
Have a good nite if I don’t hear from ya,
Crazy guy
Phone number – please don’t text – I won’t get it, it’s my personal choice – my opinion is that phones were made for talking    I don’t mind ifyou text your friends, but talking is more personal…. (YOU, guy that I’ve never even spoken with, don’t mind if I text my friends? Thanks so much!)”

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Pretty much everyone I know, except for my grandparents and the weird cat that hangs out on my front steps, is obsessed with Pinterest these days (Grandparents and cat, Pinterest is a website on the Internet that is like a virtual bulletin board where people put pictures of recipes, crafts, inspiring quotes and cats) Among the boards about preemie babies hugging and buffalo chicken mac and cheese recipes, I have a style board.

I was looking at it the other day and thought “Internet Me is super stylish” and then I laughed because in real life my style motto is: “DOES THIS HAVE AN ELASTIC WAISTBAND?” Really classy and trendy. I also thought about how many cute pants outfits I had pinned up there. I usually hate pants (unless they are leggings with the aforementioned elastic waistband) but I SHOULD love pants because not only do I hate dressing myself, but I hate shaving my legs.

I like to trace back my leg shaving aversion to an episode I like to call “The Unfortunate Shaving Situation featuring an Awkward Girl in her Pre-teens” – or something similar…

There are three important things to remember about this incident:

1. My hair as a girl was super light, like white blond light so I really shouldn’t have been worried about shaving my legs.

2. I’m a terrible liar.

3. I am very susceptible to peer pressure.

When I was 11 or 12, I decided that I would absolutely die if I didn’t shave my legs because ALL of my friends were doing it. I mean, how embarrassing that my legs were so hairy even though you probably couldn’t even see the hair unless you got super close up. I don’t know how many times I asked my mom if I could shave – it could have been once, it could have been literally a thousand – but the “yes” didn’t come fast enough and I was going to figure it out on my own.

I had the perfect plan, which was to sneak into my parents bathroom while we had people over, probably family, and just do it. I mean, it’s just like dad shaving his face, right? Super easy.

The razors in my parent’s bathroom might as well have been those straight razors from an old school barbershop. I think it only had like one or two blades. What the hell, 80s?!? How did anyone shave back then without 52 lotion-covered soft blades for her comfort?

I lathered up one of my legs with half a can of shaving cream, filled a cup of water to rinse off the blade like I had seen my dad do a million times and got to work.

When I say got to work, I mean that I was scrapping that razor along my legs doing just fine until I got to….THE SHIN. And took off a huge chunk of skin in the process. 2011 Me would have screamed out loud something along the lines of MOTHER F$%*&#, GOD $%&#*$. 12-year-old me probably whimpered with a stunned look on her face and almost passed out.

Not only did it hurt like a son of a bitch, but I was bleeding everywhere. So I did what anyone who is a horrible liar and a panicker would do: I threw the razor in the cabinet under the sink, wiped up the water around the sink, tried to clean up my leg. It wouldn’t stop bleeding so, admitting defeat, I finally had to tell my mom.

WHAT HAPPENED?

Well, Mom, I cut my leg on the cabinet door trying to get something out of the bathroom.

That was literally the worst lie I have ever told. I have a 7-inch gash on my leg and the best I could do was that I cut it on a wooden door? KIDS ARE SO STUPID.

So my mom came back to look at the door with me and immediately knew what happened. Probably because I left the cup of shaving cream water on the counter and she promptly found the razor with a chunk of skin in it. I was busted.

I remember that my mom had to shave my legs for me the next time after that, which at that age was mortifying, but thinking about it now, I would love to have someone shave my legs all the time so I didn’t have to do it. Just like getting braces or your period, shaving your legs is THE WORST once you actually have to do it.

Viva la pants!

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I’ve heard of people getting dumped via phone message, text … I mean, even sky messages would be better than this.

I went out with this guy for a month – about 5 dates. Then, I got a … hahahahahahahahaha, wait for it … Facebook message saying he didn’t want to see me anymore. Yep, a Facebook message from someone who’s almost 40. Apparently 40 is the new acting like a middle schooler!

For fun, let’s just publish the whole message here (for public service announcement purposes and so we can all laugh about it together):

“Good morning.  I wanted to let you know that I don’t think I should go to the baseball game with you tomorrow.  I hate to break the plans, but I am sure that something is missing for me here.  I would call but wanted to give you some notice and also did not want to bother you at work on the phone.  As much as I like you, something just isn’t right for me and I am feeling claustrophobic with the idea of meeting all the family and all these plans.  I hope you understand.  Better to get it out now than later.  It’s just the way life works, sometimes.  I hold you in high regard!”

Just FYI, we never made any plans for him to meet my family. If just the “idea” of meeting them at some undefined period of time in the future makes you claustrophobic, then actually walking into the lion’s den with all 35 of us will make you break out in hives. You can’t handle us. (See here, here, here and here!)

Of course, I immediately picked up the phone to call him. Didn’t answer so I left a message. About 10 minutes later, I checked my Words with Friends and he had played a move about 1 minute earlier.

WHAT?!? You can’t pick up the phone, but you can lay down a triple word score? Don’t let the door hit you, dude.

This a public service for all you single fellas out there: Never do this. It’s lame and ridiculous and makes you look like a fool.

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A few weeks ago my friend got a new car and decided that she wanted to start keeping track of her mileage so she could save money on gas. Being the susceptible person and copycat that I am, I decided to do it, too.

After I figured out how to use my dashboard computer thingy, I found out that I was getting like 2.5 miles per gallon. Not surprising considering I am a psychopath behind the wheel. I don’t know what it is, but when I get in the driver’s seat, I totally Hulk out. Which means I’m slamming on the breaks, speeding off immediately at green lights and generally hating everyone who is in my way.

So, I majorly changed my habits. Kept an eye on my acceleration. Went about 5 over the speed limit and my MPG improved like magic and I felt like a rich person every time I turned my car on.

I also found out some important things about life (are you taking notes?) PEOPLE ARE DICKS. When I’m driving the speed limit or a little over, people are freaking Mario Andretti trying to speed right up behind me and then speed around me. Guess what? Unless you’re having a baby literally or you are on fire, there is no reason to do that at all. And, let’s be honest. If you’re on fire, you should pull over to a safe location, stop/drop/roll and have a trusted friend or passerby call 911.

But even though they were doing their crazy racetrack moves, I couldn’t care less.

**Side note: One of my major pet peeves is when people say “I could care less.” Well, if you COULD care less, then you are caring about it. If you COULD NOT care less, then you are not caring at all and are unaffected by the current situation**

Anywhoozles. Usually, when people weren’t driving to my satisfaction, I would do one of two things:

1. If they are right on my butt, I would typically slow way down and watch them get pissed in my rearview mirror and then speed off (seriously, that is like something a serial killer would do…am I crazy?!?)
2. Just scream at them – with all my windows up so they can’t hear me obviously. Something really thought out like “IF YOU DO NOT GET OFF MY BUTT, I WILL SERIOUSLY HUNT YOU DOWN AND CUT YOU.”

I mean, road rage to the maximum. But, since I decided to just slow down and focus on driving smart, I am like totally Zen’d out about driving. Typically, I would be so pissed when I got somewhere because someone did something assholey. Like stop for an old lady crossing the street (THIS IS NOT A CROSSWALK, MA’AM) or go too slow (I HAVE SOMEWHERE TO BE, LAME-O) or going to fast (WHAT IS THIS?!? THE INDY 500 YOU IDIOT!!!)

But now I’m all like. Hey, you seem like you are stressed and have some reason to go ridiculously fast. I feel sorry for you, but I’m just going to enjoy my leisurely drive around town.

Really, this whole long deal was to say that it’s cool to slow down. We don’t need to get places so fast all the time. Just listen to some music or a book on tape and chill the hell out, dudes and dudettes. Your blood pressure and your passengers will thank me.

But, if I catch you looking at me funny for going slow, I WILL HURT YOU.

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