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Worst date ever doesn’t begin to describe it.

25 May

I do not recommend meeting people online.  You can go back and read some of my older posts about the freaks I’ve talked to, but the experience I am about to share with you now, is by far the worst.

A guy messaged me and his picture was quite impressive.  He looked like Tim Tebow, so we shall call him Tim.  I was intrigued.  We had the normal starter conversation and decided to meet at TGI Fridays parking lot because its a public place and convenient for both of us.

As I’m finishing getting dressed Tim texts me and asks if I’m actually as pretty as my pictures.  I replied “what are you going to do if I’m not?”.   He answered that he would simply say nothing and just walk away.  Wow. I’m already turned off, but at this point I am hungry and dressed to go.

I pull into the parking lot and I see him sitting on the tailgate of his blue truck.  It was nothing special but still a decent vehicle. I get out of my car. I’m pretty nervous and Tim walks up to me and introduces himself.  I guess I do look like my pictures.  He also looks like his pictures, and is well dressed and nicely groomed. We plan on going to a nice outdoor mall to do some window shopping and grab some dinner.  I ask him if he wants to drive and he says his truck isn’t running properly. He thinks he ran through a really deep puddle?  I ask him how he got he got here. He points to the apartments just behind the parking lot and says he lives there.  Whatever. I’m more comfortable being behind the wheel anyway.

We get into my car and he tells me I look innocent.

Weird.

He says “oh, I brought you something” and proceeds to pull candy out of his back pocket. Not just any candy.  Can you guess what kind of candy? No, you can’t.  Because you would probably never fucking guess that it was Fun Dip. Yes, FUN DIP, PEOPLE!

fundip

Because that’s just what I want, candy that he SAT ON.  Plus, I am a fucking adult.  I do not eat packets of sugar with a fucking stick that you suck. I don’t eat candy that turns my mouth all different colors of the rainbow.  I don’t want to suck on a sugar stick that was broken by the weight of his ass.

But, I am a polite person, so I say thank you and toss it in the backseat. We are on the road now.  Tim begins telling me how he used to sing country.  He searches his myspace page on his phone and makes me listen to multiple songs. I’m thinking, great, he is one of those.  I am not impressed and kind of annoyed.  He is no Johnny Cash. I ask him if he has facebook. He says he doesn’t because it was too much drama. That’s not strange at all.

We finally arrive and decide to go eat first.  We agreed on Buffalo Wild Wings.  We both order beers. We get on the subject of jobs.  He reveals that he is no longer employed because he crashed the company car.  He laughs about it.  So as of right now, he is a candy sitting-failed musician-broken truck having-unemployed-but good looking guy.  This is not what I had in mind.  The waitress asks me if I would like another beer.  I say “you know, I think we’re going to need a pitcher.”  Little did I know, things were going to get worse.

The subject of his living arrangements came up again.  He shares that he has a female room mate.  She is morbidly obese and in love with him. He also doesn’t have his own room.  He sleeps in the living room on the couch. Because he is couch surfing. Tim is basically homeless.  I am on a date with a homeless man.

We finish dinner and I pick up the check, because, well, I have a home.

I try to tune out his words and focus on his beauty. Despite all of his strike outs, he was very nice. But nice isn’t cutting it. Because things are still going to get worse.

We are driving home and he is talking about how psycho his “room mate” is.  Okay, dude, she isn’t your room mate. You don’t pay rent. She is letting you stay there out of crazy lust. She obviously has just as many issues as you do. Let’s call it what it is, you are having a slumber party with your stalker.

I am curious as to why he doesn’t try to stay with a family member.  He claims that his Mom doesn’t have room in her house because his sisters children live there.  They get wild and he can’t handle it.  Why isn’t his sister taking care of the children, you ask? Well, it’s because she is a crack head. And the multiple children are also crack babies. HIS WORDS. This is his flesh and blood that he is calling crack babies. I don’t know the medical term for it but I’m sure there is one, and it has to be a lot less derogatory.  I know Doctors aren’t delivering newborns saying “Congratulations! You’re a proud mother of a sick crack baby!”

This just is not normal.

And I want to remind you, that this is the same guy who said he would walk away from me if I was not up to his physical standards.

The worst is yet to come.

I’m dropping him back off in front of his apartment where he says “I’d invite you in, but my room mate gets really jealous.”  Then he asks me if I kiss on the first date. I say no and he replies “I knew you were the innocent type.”

Gross.

I go home and my mind is reeling from the craziness.  For whatever reason, I have the urge to look him up on facebook, undeterred by the fact that he said he did not have one.

Lo and behold, his face comes up.  I’m thinking, that’s a weird picture. Oh, right, because it is a fucking mugshot.  It is his mugshot as the profile picture, on a HATE PAGE on facebook. What I see blows my mind. It must be some ex that really hates him and is trying to ruin his life. Although, his life is already in shambles.

I search for his public records and to my disbelif, it is true. He was fucking arrested for a sex offense with a victim between the ages of 12 and 15. Holy shit. I messaged the facebook page asking for more information and they replied almost immediately saying multiple girls had come forward between the ages of 11 and 14.  The case is ongoing.

Even if he is somehow innocent, there was enough evidence to bring him into custody!  Innocent until proven guilty, I know. But any way you look at it, he was doing something he shouldn’t have.  I begin having mental flashbacks of the comments on how innocent I seem and the kids candy.  I am nauseous.

He messages me the following day asking when we can hang out again.  I could only think of one thing to say.

“I saw your mugshot.  I wish you were here. Just so you could watch me walk away.”

He messages me close to a year later.  He says his charges were dropped and was hoping to have a second chance with me.

No.

It looks like his charges were dropped from sex offender to felony battery.

I would rather die alone.

 

 

 

 

A drunken thought…

25 Nov

I can totally see better with one eye closed right now.

Battle: Life

24 Jul

The truth is…

You have to pick your battles, or your entire life will be a war. 

Let your freak flag fly!

29 May

For any of you that have dabbled in online dating, you already know that trying to find your soul mate on the world wide web is like trying to build a hurricane shelter out of Lego’s.

Times are changing though. More and more people are using the internet to find love, sex, or whatever other kind of top secret, creepy shit they are into.  Online dating has great potential to actually become what it already claims to be.  But there are still a ton of kinks that need to be worked out.

As I said in part one, Entering the Gates of Freak City, I let my friend, Baker sign me up for one of these sites while I was under the influence of some cheap wine.

Well, the entrance fee to freak city was at the very affordable price of my dignity.  SOLD to the lowest bidder! Who needs dignity anyway? It’s like that annoying cricket bitching in my ear, slow down, stop and think, you’re embarrassing yourself.  Oh, shut the hell up Jiminy. I got this.

In order to start meeting people in this clown palace, you have to fill out your profile.  Baker uploaded my most flattering photo’s and then began to fill out the “About Me” section.  This was her opener:  “If you like to party, then you will like me!”

She obviously knows way too much of my history to be writing this section. Everyone else had written self praising novels about their lives. I tell her to add that I am a college graduate and have, like, hobbies and stuff.   The section ended up being three sentences. Whatever.  I’m too drunk to care at this point.

It wasn’t long before all kinds of crazies were messaging me.  I won’t bore you with the normal people, because though they are rare, they actually do exist.  But I always found a flaw with them. It would be nonsensical for me to date someone who might actually be good for me.  Besides, healthy relationships are dull.

This site had a spiffy feature where you can view who added you to their favorites list. And lo and behold! Someone added me as their favorite. Sweet! Lets check this sexy beast out.

Hmmm.  It’s a very thin, short, 50-year-old, black man.

And he is wearing a do-rag, taking a “selfie” picture in a broken mirror in what looks to be a shanty town.  I shit you not.

My first thought was “how does he afford the membership fees to this site?”

I click to the next picture because let’s be real, he’s got my attention. The second picture is similar to the first except this one has the added bonus of pigeons surrounding him. WTF? It looks like some sort of fucked up family photo.  The third picture is just of the pigeons, huddled around shards of glass and cardboard.  He can’t be serious. He lives in shanty town with pigeons.  PIGEONS! Ya know? Like shitty doves!  This might be normal in some parts of the world but this is Florida.  I think I’m going to keep my options open and see who else is out there.

I exchanged a few emails with another guy. He seemed normal at first.  Until he started asking me why I hadn’t deleted my account yet. I asked him what he meant. He said “It shows that you logged in this morning. Why are you still on that site when you are talking to me? You need to delete it.”

Excuse me? RED FLAG. A couple of conversations and he is already claiming me as his own and forbidding me from talking to any one else.  Listen pal, I happen to work as Domestic Violence counselor (shocker, right?) and you clearly have issues.  I told him I found someone better looking to talk to.  Then he swore at me a few times. Well, that guy is out of the running.

I asked one user if he had a Facebook and if I could add him.  He said yes as long as I didn’t mind being bombarded with photos of him and his fiancée.

The next dudes username is BillyBob.  I should have known I already had a winner on my hands. But his pictures were cute and he started out nice with the traditional pleasantries. Then things took a turn for the worse.  He told me he was an ass man. Uhm, okay, I didn’t ask but thanks for the heads up. Then, he asked me if I had a dirty butt.

Just one of the glories of online dating. Apparently he had some sort of swamp ass fetish. Who knows? I didn’t bother to ask.  I just wanted to get me and my clean butt out of that conversation.  And that’s probably my cue to depart from Freak City and go back to regular dating. With people who wipe.

The anonymity of the internet can work in disturbing ways.  Ugly people pretend to be pretty people.  Losers pretend to be cool.  And freaks suck you into their freakdom by pretending to be normal.

Thank God for Laser Tattoo Removal

5 Sep

Like most of my blog, this post is about what the hell is wrong with people today? When I saw a girl sporting a tramp stamp of a poorly tattooed BatMan emblem, it really made me wonder what thought process, if any, takes place before deciding to make such an everlasting mark on ones body.

I don’t have anything against tattoos. I’ve debated on getting one myself, actually.

I understand wanting to get commemorative tattoos and/or ones that represent your heritage.  What I do not understand is why you would let a 3rd grader with a severe tic be the artist of your choosing.  For the love of God, go to a reputable parlor. Your cousin, Rick the Hick,  and his $50.00 equipment he ordered off of Ebay, is in no way, shape, or form, a good choice.

Learn from others mistakes:

This piece of shit looks like it was drawn on an etch a sketch.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Who knew cooks had so many confining laws to adhere to?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lactose intolerant, maybe?

 

 

Pegasus style? sure why not?  Flying high in the sky, but only he has wings. Why is his horn so much smaller than hers? Why does he look so angry when he is in pink territory?  How did she light that cigarette?

 

 

She won’t ever regret this. Solid decision.

 

 

There’s a woman you don’t want to forget.  Smile of an angel.

 

 

Winning at Losing

Winning aka losing… in so many ways. This tattoo makes me bleed from my eyes. I never knew Charlie Sheen had so many freckles.

The truth is you should think before you ink!

Signs You’re Incredibly Boring

24 Jul

One of the searches I mentioned in my last post was for signs you’re incredibly boring. Well, why not give the people what they want?

1. The fact that you are searching for signs and symptoms of being a boring blob should raise a red flag.

2. If you take a quiz entitled Do you have a Boring Personality?  then you are a monotonous loser.  It should be insulting enough to your ego to even click on that link.

3. If you have less than 20 contacts in your phone, you are probably a lame ass.  If your incoming call list only consists of calls from your parents and therapist, I pity your soul.

4. If the few friends you do have eat Captain Crunch cereal in your presence just to drown out the sound of your vapid story, you are one boring son of a dick.

5. If you consider spooning to be a sexual activity then you are boring, and kind of a prude.

6. If your last Facebook status was “reading my facebook newsfeed” you are ten kinds of boring.

7. If your idea of a party is a box of wine and a Dr. Phil marathon then you need to change your life. And by changing your life, I mean getting one would be a good place to start.

8. If nobody has ever talked shit about you then you are just too damn boring to talk about. And trust me, people can manipulate any story into front page news of the Daily Trash Tribune.

9. If you are speaking to someone and they continually answer with ‘uh-huh’, ‘true’, ‘okay’, ‘what? I’m sorry I must have dozed off’, then you are most likely killing them silently with your duller than dull attempt at conversation.

10. If most of your clothes look very much alike then your style is blander than a head of lettuce. Seriously, I’ve breathed oxygen that had more taste.

11.  If you read this for a reason other than entertainment value, like say, to see if you are actually boring, well then, you are about as boring and useless as a silent movie at a blind convention.

Boredom comes from a boring mind. -Metallica

Never be bored and you’ll never be boring. -Eleanor Roosevelt.

Follow the Yellow Bitch Road.

21 Jul

As my stats number increases I often wonder how these people stumbled upon my lonely, little blog out of the infinite sites available to them on the World Wide Web. Who are they and what are they like?  I had a feeling I might appeal to the annoyed, the sarcastic, and obviously the bitchy.

As luck would have it, WordPress just so happens to reveal what some of these viewers typed into a search engine that ultimately lead them to my page.  Some were my target audience,  sadly the most rare. Other search topics just made me laugh.  And then there are simply the ones that made me want to give up on writing altogether.

Let me elaborate.  The following queries, I shit you not, are what people are actually searching for (spelling and all).  And they landed on my page!  Clearly, I have a problem and it’s my writing.

The Expected

-bitchtastic Bitches

Possibly they have been to my page before?

-how to get rid of an annoying bitch

Easy one, write a blog post about her.

-truthful bitchy rants

Right on.

-tired of stupid people at work.

Ditto.

-I’m a good enough person to forgive you, but not stupid enough to trust you.

I like you.

-I bitch therefore I am

I like you even more.

Hahahaha. 

-You know you suck when even your mom unfriends you on facebook.

-loving my work status for facebook

Pathetic.

-signs your incredibly boring

If you’re bored enough to search for the signs then you are a fucking Boron. A Boring Moron.

-your spouse sucking the life out of you

-Life sucks when you have a good heart.

-life sucks without sex

-whats wrong with the world

-fuck is also important in our life.

Fuck yeah.

 

WTF?

-i wonder what normal people think about

I wonder why there aren’t more normal people reading my blog.

-when live sucks jump

WTF? I have never been an advocate of suicide.  Annoying people should not kill themselves. They just shouldn’t breed.

-big boobs ugly face

I need something funny, but insulting for the insecure girls stalking on facebook

-Red traffic light hooker

facebook stalking… i wish you would update more

-real boob

 

WTF? ON CRACK

-Open your mouth a purse falls out

WTF does that even mean? Eat a sandwich like a normal person.

-Wife thinks im a idiot for going bald

I don’t recall ever doing a post on hair restoration or how it may affect your brain function.  Perhaps your wife thought you were an idiot all along.

 

There is more but I think you get the idea.   Anyway, no matter how you found your way here I am glad you made it.

You’re so Vain: Egoism Explained.

9 May

“I never understand why women think drama and bullshit are attractive to guys. They’re not. I’m going to be real clear about this, ladies, so pay attention: Prince Charming doesn’t come to rescue cunty lunatics.”                 – Tucker Max

Dealing with self-absorbed, pompous, unrelenting narcissists is exhausting. They think everything is about them.  The Sun rises and sets on their accord.  It doesn’t matter how hard you try, they won’t go away.  They’re like Herpes — uninvited and impossible to get rid of.  It doesn’t help that they come in all different forms.

The Blind Braggart:

These Narcissists honestly think the world of themselves.  They love to post self  portraits to any and all social medias, to bless the world with their self proclaimed beauty.    If they are not complimenting themselves, they are shamelessly trying to get you to do so.  They look in the mirror and they see the face of an angel.  We look at them and see what can only be described as a cross between Big Bird and a warthog.  The red lipstick you cake on in your homemade modeling photo’s only alludes to your resemblance of a rabid vampire bat. Stop wasting your time on foundation, eye liner, mascara, and blush.  Use the paper bag you brought them home in.

The Plagued Prima Donna 

The whole world has conspired against this egomaniac, or so they say.  They should like invent some kind of invention to like stop it from raining ever again because then I can fry my hair straight like everyday and I’ll be totally awesome everyday because it’s just so hard being me. These are the dumbest and most annoying kind. They try to hide their insecurity with their overbearing sense of self-entitlement.   Their attempts at gaining sympathy are laughable.  If your life sucks, it’s probably because you suck.  And let’s face it, most of the guys in your town know that you do.  Like the only reason anybody even pretends she’s funny is because Miss WordPress is sleeping with all of the judges.  Make yourself useful, and go suck a dick.

The Evil Egotist:

Possibly the worst of the Narcissistic family, the Evil Egotist chooses to gain self-esteem by bringing others down.  They flaunt their assets hoping to induce envy, when in reality, they are the envious ones.   But they assure themselves anything you can do, they can do better.   They expect everyone to cater to their feelings while showing total disregard for others.  The Evil Egotist is a greedy person willing to do anything to have the upperhand. They would take a cardboard box from a bum.   They would steal the condoms from a prostitute.  They would trample a 3 year old to catch one more glimpse of their reflection in a passing car.  While all the while never realizing that they sing like an angry camel and have a chin like a pelican.

My thoughts and prayers are with you if you find yourself  forced to associate with someone like this.  And if you think this is about you, you probably fall into one of these categories — most likely all 3.

It’s the little things

3 May

Ten minutes in a waiting room will really make you aware of how annoying people can be.  Once you are already irritated it’s easy to think of little things that piss you off. Here it goes.

Butt Explosion Etiquette
Nobody knows when their diarrhea will strike, so sooner or later they will find themselves having a butt explosion in a public bathroom. It’s nauseating to think about, but shit happens. What pisses me off is when they close the door afterwards, trying to hide the stench of rotting carcass. They’re not fooling anybody. They were in there for a fucking hour and it took 3 flushes to clear the bowl. So, of course when I go to use it, I open the door, and get shit winded in the face from the killer fumes they’ve trapped in the tiny, enclosed space. Do us all a favor and leave the fucking door open. Let that shit air out. Literally.

Delayed Response
I get really aggravated when I send somebody a text message and have to wait for their reply. My ego gets bruised when you don’t respond immediately. I don’t care if you’re at school. I dont care if you’re in a business meeting. I don’t care if you’re in the middle of a threesome with King Tut and Janet Jackson. King Tut ain’t disappearing. He’s dead, he stays where you put him. And the only thing disappearing about Janet Jackson is her nose and her career. So, stop what you’re doing and fucking answer me. Thank you.

Annoying parents
I’m sitting in the waiting room of a doctors office. In walks a lady and her son who is about 4 years old. He is pushing a stroller with her 8 month old daughter in it. She sits down and the boy begins to play race car track with the stroller, circling our chairs like he is Dale fucking Earnhardt. He’s bumping into all kinds of shit, including people. His mother is playing on her iphone. Me and the other patients exchange glances of “WTF? Is this bitch for real?” I’m just waiting for the baby to go flying out of the stroller and becoming one with the cement wall. FINALLY, she calls him over and tells him to sit down. Then she proceeds to play some childish game on her iPhone with the volume on full blast. You have got to be fucking kidding me. Lady, you are an imbecile and I am not above disciplining you and your unruly child. I do not want to sit here and listen to your ducks and cows and bouncing balls background music while you ignore your kids. How old are you, anyway? What the fuck are you playing? Read a fucking magazine like a normal person. And for Gods sake, control that fucking animal you birthed.

 

I could go on, but I have a job and a life.

How serious is serious?

27 Apr

Have you ever liked somebody up until you realized the feeling was mutual?  It happens to me all the time.  I guess I just want what I can’t have. I thought it was a phase but I’m beginning to think I have a fear of commitment.

I consider my current relationship status to be friends with benefits.  But lately I get the feeling it’s progressing into something more.  The reasons are as follows:

1. Daily text messages.

He texts me to ask me how my day is going.  Since when does anybody give a fuck about my day?

2. Was that a date?

He invited me to go out to eat.  So, that afternoon I stopped by the drug store. I spent twenty minutes comparing razors.  The pharmacist kept looking at me like I might be illiterate. That, or I was contemplating on stealing it.  I splurged on the expensive one.  BOOYAH Pharmacist! I’m pretty sure I paid an extra $10.00 because it was pink. And I even bought an electric shaver also.  I was curious. Don’t judge me. Of course, I go to use it and the piece of shit doesn’t have any fucking batteries in it.  Maybe they should have put ‘buy your own damn batteries’ on the package.  I had to rummage through every piece of electronics in my house to find 2 triple A batteries.  Why the fuck doesn’t it take double A batteries like everything else in the world? Anyway, I digress.  The point is, I obviously felt that this night was special for some reason.  He paid for dinner and made sure to open the doors and all that jazz.  If it shaves like a date, pays like a date, and kisses like a date, is it a date?

3. Spending the night.

Most guys can’t wait to give their booty call the boot when the business transaction is complete. And if you want to cuddle you’re better off going to Build-a-Bear Workshop. I wish they had Build-a-Man Workshop.  They have Build-a-Bitch Workshop, it’s called a relationship (no wonder I’m single).  When the deed was done I’d gather my shit (Dignity not included. See what I did there razor company?) and be on my happy hoe way.  I actually like sleeping in my own clean sheets.  But now he offers that I spend the night.  I know the physical acts we just committed are considered to be one of the most intimate things two people can do together, but I feel like waking up next to each other is a whole new level of closeness.

4. Using his facilities.

He invites me over to watch a movie when I get off work.  He says that I can just bring a clean pair of clothes and shower at his house.  I told my friend this to see what kind of response it would illicit. She replied “You can’t shower at his house! There’s no way he will have good shampoo!” Plus my long locks need conditioner.  I think that’s a pretty valid concern.  I’ll never forget the day I woke up with a hangover at a male friends house. I had to shower before class so I didn’t smell like a hooker on a 3 day alcohol binge.  I was forced to use anti-dandruff shampoo for men, old spice deodorant, and I wore the same clothes I passed out in.  Then I walked into class smelling like a spicy man with a dandruff problem and my friend looks at me and says “have you seen your neck?”  It’s safe to say that was rock bottom but I think I deserve some credit for at least making it to class.  I continue to digress.  I feel like using his shower and shampoo is like domesticating our relationship.  It’s like sharing toothpaste. It’s like playing house.  It’s like committing to maybe, possibly, showering there on a regular basis.  But hey, maybe he just wants me to be clean for the post movie activities.

I’m not going to jump to any conclusions.  I’m probably over analyzing.  I just like to know what everyone is thinking and why they do certain things.  Hidden meanings are so aggravating.

It’s like my  motto, say what you mean, mean what you say, and say something mean.