Tag Archives: rants

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.

 

 

 

 

Entering the Gates of Freak City

25 Apr

Breaking up is super fucking lame but sometimes it is inevitable.  I knew the end was coming. I was just getting way too nice, floating up there in happy love land.  Earth called, they wanted their bitch back.

You might be thinking I’m going to start rambling about my shattered dreams and how terrible single life is.  Not quite. I was bummed out, sure. But bitches always land on their feet.

Plus, wine is like superglue for a broken heart.

I am not single, I am independent.  The people with the best success rate of staying together, are people who know how to be alone. Dependency isn’t just a problem for drug addicts.

But that’s enough pep talk.

My best friend thought it would be funny to sign me up for a dating site.  I finished off the bottle of wine and agreed.

Honestly, this membership was a one way ticket to freak city.  And great ranting material.

This was the first guys selling point: ”I regularly prepare gourmet meals at home, for me and my dogs.”  Does that strike anybody else as odd?

First off, ten pictures of you with your dog does not make me believe that you’re a kind, animal loving, trustworthy guy.  It makes me believe that you have no friends. And it becomes a serious disadvantage when the dog has better teeth.

Secondly, I like a man who knows how to cook. I do not need a man who knows how to cook. I don’t want your first message to me to read: “I am cooking a really nice chicken, thai, hot, curry, with onions and spices etc,,,”.  Do I look hungry? Good for you! Cook it alone, eat it alone. Enjoy your burning hot, curry diarrhea that you will ultimately face in the morning alone too.  I’m perfectly happy with my frozen pizza.

More great lines from my potential suitors:

“I enjoy long, romantic walks to the refrigerator.”  Was this supposed to be funny? It might have been if you weren’t 200 lbs overweight.  And by the way, 200 lbs does not qualify as a “Few extra pounds”.

“Things like a pepsi or a bag of pistachios really make my day.”  I, too, enjoy the simple pleasures in life but at some point you have to raise your standards.

“Hey there young lady.”  I don’t want to date anybody that calls me young lady. I don’t have daddy issues. My issues lie with you and your 60 year old audacity.   “I do have kids, but don’t worry, they are all over 18.”  Oh, well that changes everything! I feel so much better knowing that you just have a couple 4o year olds running around.

There was one guy who actually seemed like he might make the cut.  Until, I noticed he had really small, feminine hands.  I know this may sound crazy on my part, but dating a guy with small hands totally creeps me out.  It’s like being felt up by a child. eek!

I am only at the gates of freak city. My exploration into online dating is just beginning. Stay tuned, people. Things are about to get interesting.

Alexander Graham Bell, this is your fault.

5 Apr

It dates back to the prehistoric times of the Caveman.  The males approach to women doesn’t seem to have changed that much.  The caveman knew how to sweep a woman off her feet — beat her over the head until she falls flat on her back.

I know that men were put on this earth to create chaos in a womans mind.  I don’t understand it, but I’ve come to accept it — only because I have to.  We’re lucky if they change their underwear let-alone change their strategies of attracting women.  Here we are in the year 2012, and men still believe the best way to get a lady back to his cave is by messing with her head.  The only thing that’s changed is that now women beat their own heads against the wall.

Like men weren’t confusing enough, Mr. Alexander Graham Bell had to go and put hot sauce on a jalapeno and invent the telephone.  Which leads me to the topic of my post and the burning question, will he call?

This should be a very simple question to answer.  If he says he will call, then yes, he will.  But that wouldn’t get us to beat our heads against the wall, now would it? So, they’ve made it into an impossible guessing game because every case is different.

Classmate Example A:

Run into classmate at a bar:

“Hey, can I have your number? We should catch a movie tomorrow night.”

“Sure, that sounds great.”

He doesn’t call.  I bet he was really tired from staying out late last night.

I see him again in class and he continues to talk to me, but for embarrassments sake I do not ask why he bailed the other night. After all, it wasn’t set in stone and I don’t want to seem like a clinger. and then:

“What are you doing later tonight? Lets get together, I’ll hit you up.”

“Okay, I’m down.”

Is my phone on silent? I bet his phone ran out of battery.  Is my phone out of battery? He’s said he would be home, he should have a charger.  Maybe he isn’t getting service.  Am I getting service? I don’t even know if I like him. Why am I so worried about his call? I just don’t understand why he would initiate hanging out with me only to leave me hanging…alone. Just shut up. I need to just shut up.

The next time I’m walking out to my car, staring at the ground in a daze, only to look up and see him in his car waiting to talk to me.

“Hey, what class did you have today?  What are you doing later? We should go to the beach or something.”

“Yeah, just let me know.”

Oh, no. I feel it. My brain is going into over-drive-over-analyze mode again.

I don’t think our phones can connect for some reason.  I bet he found some other girl to go to the beach with. Why is he doing this to me? Do I deserve this? I bet this is karma for all those fake numbers I gave out. FML. Why does he act like he’s interested and then pretend to do something about it?  I knew I shouldn’t have worn these jeans today.  They make my ass look huge. What a fucking dickbrick.  I hope he knows how to use his dick better than he knows how to use a phone.   Fuck you and fuck Alexander Graham Bell.

That’s where Classmate Example A ends for now.

Let’s continue.

Random guy at a bar Example B:

Run into a friend at a bar who introduces me to Example B.  We hit it off and have a great time.  The night ends around 4 AM with a drunken, short, good night kiss.

“Can I get your number?”

“DLFKAJS;LF yes alajdfas;lij”

I know I said yes, but like I said– 4 AM – BAR– I’m lucky I remember the little that I do.  Besides, that fuckers never going to call.

Next day:

“I wanted to know if you’d like to come watch a movie at my house tonight?”

“Yes.”

Well, the movie, ahem, went well. We share another kiss goodbye and I leave.

Why didn’t he mention calling me again? I am so stupid.  I have no self control. He doesn’t want to buy the cow. Fucking bastard motherfucker.

Next morning text:

“Good morning, How are you?”

Texts me all day. WTF. The guy who never mentions calling is the one who calls. The one who goes out of his way to say he will call me is the one who doesn’t.

That just goes to show you how fucked up the male psyche is.

I really need end this post because I think my head is bleeding.

No, I can’t hear you now. But Call me, maybe?

This song is so catchy.

Truth of the past.

20 Mar

It's not my fault your life sucks.

(2007) Sometimes, I wonder how stupid someone has to be before officially being declared retarded. But maybe it’s not stupidity, maybe it’s some other obnoxious mental condition. Why is it always the hated people that say it’s not important to have a good rapport with those you work with? I find it funny that a grown man can stoop so low as to talk trash about me to my friend. Are you that incredibly moronic and depressed about your life that you have to pick on an innocent girl? Apparently, yes. I’m sorry you’re jealous of the good relationships I have with our coworkers. I’m sorry you think I turned everyone against you, even though you clearly did that yourself. I’m sorry you’re going bald and had to marry your wife because you had already knocked her up.

I’m not single, I am my own Boss.

13 Feb

It’s almost Valentines Day otherwise known as Single-people-can-go-fuck-themselves-because-obviously-nobody-else-wants-to Day.   Clearly,  it’s one of my favorite holidays of the year.  Between the flowers, candy, and other overpriced bullshit, I can hardly contain myself.  If you can smell sarcasm it’s because I’ve been soaking in it.  And it’s not that I’m a lonely old, bag lady.  I’m not jaded. I absolutely believe in love.  I have a heart, even if it is cold.

I just feel that love is misunderstood.  I want to slap people all day because of the mindless, dim-witted, dickshit decisions they make.  And then they want to blame their desperate acts of retardation and rejection on being blinded by love.  Your girlfriend was impregnated by your best friend.  I think it’s safe to say she doesn’t love you, or even like you.  And it’s probably because you’re a low-self esteem, doormat, who can’t say no.  Take a bitch’s advice and hop off that hoe train.  Unfortunately, my advice won’t be taken and they will continue their long, tragic, on and off again, mind torture they call a relationship.  I hope you really enjoy that mess of a broad and banging the cold, worn out cavern gaping between her forever spread legs.  And don’t worry, the clap is totally curable.

If that’s what love is, I don’t want any.

Of course, there are some decent couples out there.  They actually make me sicker than the doormat folk.  But it’s only because life isn’t fair.  Some of us have to wait to find love.  Wait, and wait, and wait, and fucking wait.  But that’s okay, I spend my waiting time being fabulously single, enjoying my freedom to bitch at anybody who crosses my path.  Because while love can be great and all, with love and relationships come rules.  And bitches don’t like rules, unless we are the ones enforcing them.

As soon as you commit to someone things naturally progress into owning one another.  A Marriage Certificate is just a fancy term for Bill of Sale.  Congratulations on your wedding! You’ve just become property.

1. You spend all your time together.  There’s only one person I can spend every second of my life with, and that’s me!  And I can only handle that because I drink a lot.

2. They constantly want to know where you are, what you’re doing and who you are with.   Well since you asked, I’m apparently on a short leash, waving goodbye to my freedom with the warden himself.

3. They think they can go through your phone. Bitch, touch my phone and we are finished. I’ve got way too much to hide.

4. You have to pretend to like what they like.  Golf? I can’t even fake it.

5. They get comfortable with you.  Comfortable is so unattractive. Sweat pants? Burping? Pooping? Absolutely not.   That’s why I always look out for others and try to make them as uncomfortable as possible.

6. You have to buy them stuff.  If I have to buy you a gift to reciprocate you buying me a gift then that counteracts the thoughtfulness of you buying me a gift because we might as well just buy our own shit.  So keep the gifts coming but I won’t be buying you anything because that way what you bought me will mean more.  You don’t have to understand it. Trust me, I’m right.

So, somebody should call the Nobel Prize people because I just disproved the theory that Love is Blind. It’s not blind, it’s stupid.  It’s all heart and no brain.  But there is no denying that it’s out there. Just waiting to get you in its grasp so it can eat your mind and soul.  Happy Valentines Day Bitches!

Then again, maybe love is blind, because it obviously hasn’t seen how incredibly fantastic I am.  All I know is I plan to spend this Valentines Day following my heart and spending it with the person who brings the most satisfaction to my life.  My bartender.

Love can’t be controlled.  You can’t live with it, you can’t live without it. It’s unstoppable. Love is your boss.   And your boss is a BITCH. ya dig?

Get on the Bitch Train.

9 Feb

image

I’ve never been fond of introductions. It must be the awkward handshake soon followed by forced conversation. Honestly, I just met you and unless you hold future boyfriend potential, I won’t waste much of my time getting to know you. Some may call it shallow, but I prefer to think of it as good time management.

But everyone needs friends, right? Life without friends is like life without sarcasm. Why bother? But, as it says in the name I’m here to tell the truth even if it makes me a bitch. There are times when I just can’t seem to handle all of my friends pulling me in every different direction. Even after moving to a new place I already feel as though I am at friend capacity. So when some unintelligent life form tries to befriend me, you can bet I try to cut right to the chase. I won’t be flat out mean to the little freak, but it won’t take a genius to realize they bombed their first audition so badly that if my life were a movie I wouldn’t even hire them as a background actor.

Every once in awhile I come across a trouble making douche that somehow managed to fool me into thinking they earned a role in my life. However, it’s not long before that gravy train comes to a screeching halt. They are what I like to refer to as a deleted scene. And as soon as they commit whatever heinous act that reveals their true colors, I’ve got 10 more understudies just waiting for their chance at stardom. That’s where I like to utilize my Friend Wait List. The wait list consists of people I want to socialize with but simply don’t have the time for due to my friend capacity. You’re probably thinking that I am completely immoral and have total disregard for peoples feelings. Yeah, I get it. They are humans with real emotions! Let’s get one thing clear, I treat my friends with the utmost respect and devotion. That is why I had to develop such a unique system. And if you don’t like it, you don’t have to use it. I doubt you ever reach friend capacity, anyway.

And, of course, we can’t forget my costars. These are the friends that have been around the longest and are basically royalty in my book. They’re the ones almost as bitchy as me and always have my back. Sequels will flop without their characters.

So, for those of you looking to reach friend capacity, I’ve found that the best way to make new friends is to get a hobby. I chose drinking. I can assure you I have done plenty of research. Some of my costars can all be traced back to our first drunk encounter. Although, after boarding the crazy train with a nonstop ticket to Drunky Town, I found myself somewhat embarrassed in the morning. I didn’t want my new friend to know I was that much of a train wreck so soon. But no worries! Time and time again, they keep coming back for more. There is just something about peeing in a parking lot together that really creates a bonding experience.

So, drink up bitches! I have a feeling we are going to be great friends.