Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Me On Relationships

This is the type of advice you can expect from me when talking about your relationships:

Frienderson: This is our first time going out out. Not just to one of our apartments.

Your Hero: That's exciting! Wear something lowcut. So where are you going with your lover?

Well we are going to Bethesda cause that's where he lives.. but we cant go out till 9:30 and most places there close at 10 so I don't know maybe Cosi?

Your Hero: Tacobell?

Frienderson: Too fancy.. I don't want to scare him.

Your Hero: True that place screams committment.

Yeah I mean... "3 choices of hot sauce??? are you trying to get me to marry you??"

Then she sent me his picture.

While this guy was (thankfully!) very cute, I would just like to say to all my friends who happen to stumble upon this blog here this is just a brief translation from what I say to what I actually mean when you show me their photos:

"Cute, how old is he?" = You grave robber/wasn't that guy the before picture in a Rogaine commercial?

Cute = Meh (s)he's alright.

Cute! = Gah what mutant genome experiment went horribly wrong?! Why aren't they in a lab being studied/covered up by the government?

Awww = Awwwhyuckcoughhack if it were possible to vomit out of every orifice of my body I'd be doing it right now because of that dogfaced loser. This person stands as both a testament against people who believe in a benevolent and merciful God as well as a poster child for birth control.

Nice (smile, hair, eyes, etc.) = This is the only feature on his/her entire body that I can remotely say anything genuinely nice about.

Cool tattoos! = Seriously, is this Satan's love child. They have more ink on them than a coloring book.

"Oooh! Does he have an identical twin?" = Please God tell me there aren't two of these running around muckin' up the gene pool in the world.

Nice pic = Kudos to the photographer for capturing your lover in all of his/her revolting hairlipped cauliflower-eared caveman-foreheaded unibrowed glory.


Saturday, December 16, 2006

Yay! Done! Can't Think of a Clever Title!

Officially done my first semester of grad school and am well into Winter break which means I'm free to do all the things I love again like read books that I want to read, write in my blog, read other peoples blogs, play video games, and touch myself more regularly. I also plan to drink ten years off my life. It's going to be glorious.

I just finished my last project on Thursday and had two parties lined up last night. The first was a cookie decorating party which got real old real fast. I glutted myself on pizza and frosting, then had a sugar crash in an easy chair while the rest continued on with their confectionary art. We were recreating the cast of The Office. I made a dead-on Angela complete with scowl. My friend did Phyllis with a blue frowny face. We want to send the pictures to NBC and have them feature us. We'll see though. Soon after recovering from my diabetic coma, I realized what time it was and was quickly on my way out the door.

After spending a wholesome evening with friends, I went to a Slutty Santa theme party and you can bet your sweet ass I dressed up. To say I made a spectacle of myself would be an understatement. Of the 50 or so people that were there, only about 10 were actually dressed up, only 3 were remotely slutty, and none of them were guys. Then I busted in wearing this:

I think the strategically placed ribbon makes the outfit... and screams class and sophistication.

The girls thought it was great and all wanted to take pictures with me, the guys... well... who can blame them for being intimidated.


Friday, December 08, 2006

An Open Letter

Dear Friend In A New Relationship,

It's great that you've found that special someone you can share your love, feelings, and bodily fluids with. I'm happy for you. Truly. I am. You're a good person and you deserve good things to happen to you. I wish nothing but the best for you two for the many weeks you are together.

With that said, I'm not sure how to interpret your email this morning "Major sex hair" as I believe I made it quite clear that I did not want to be CCed about developments in your romance department. In fact, I believe I stated it explicitly:

"Be sure to tell me how the sex is... minus the telling me part".

When I said this you seemed quite flabbergasted that I wouldn't want to know but you seem to forget that I only delight in other people's misery not happiness. Don't worry many people who don't know me very well or who are blind, deaf, and dumb have made this mistake before so don't feel too bad. Just remember you can come to me when that bastard splits up with you and you need someone to vent too about his hairy back, small family jewels, or hillbilly smile. Then I'm your man. I'll happily wake up to find that email in my inbox. Until that day comes though keep it moving, there's no goodwill here and I am not a charity so shove off.

You're such a nice guy that I can almost look past the fact that you being in a relationship with another gay man limits the tiny tiny gay dating pool by two more men. Your generous nature and kind spirit almost makes me want to apologize for my overtly cold and sarcastic "Congratulations" to which I replied to aforementioned sex hair email. But then you responded with this:

"Your man is coming, don't worry. Just keep being open and stretching your comfort zone.

I've been putting myself out there ALOT for the last SEVERAL months, so it's about payday. :)
It's just takes time....and it's good too, because I realize that there are some really nice guys out there, you just have to sort through them."

You tried to give me dating advice...apparently meeting a guy online just last week and fooling around with him on his couch as you watch Pirates of the Carribean qualifies you as some sort of relationship expert now.

My heart is stone to you! Stone. Yeah I felt bad that I was being such a jerk and let you tell me all the knitty gritty details that you were just going to tell me anyway, but that is the last shred of compassion you will see from me buddy pal.

I like to make people laugh, entertain them, and generally make sure everyone is having a good time. But this, this just annoys me. I like to think I'm Apollo who, when he took back his gift of healing, would leave plagues and devastation. Well I am taking back my gift of hilarity from you you fool, go get your cheap laughs elsewhere- perhaps from your lover since he's apparently so great. You'll be awash in a sea of boredom at work now jerkface and you've got nobody to thank but your own ill-advising self!

See ya on Monday. Hmmph.


Monday, December 04, 2006

Because I'm just not gay enough, I finally made a profile entered the chat. I used it a little last night and a little this morning and I've already been solicited for sex approximately 29382957 times and I've seen more pictures of men in their underewear than I ever wanted to. Young big-headed librarians are apparently a hot commodity these days.

I managed to offended tons of people because instead of talking about my bedroom habits, I would try engage them in conversation about books and their interests. I don't think I've got netiquette down yet. (Note To Self: Learn to say "Hung?" instead of "Hi!")

There's only been two slightly sketchy moments (and probably more to come).

The first, a young latino man who said hello by asking me if I was a top or bottom. When I said I wasn't online to hook up he said he wasn't either and then asked me a laundry list of questions about how tall I was, how hairy I was... you know those questions you ask people you want to be friends with.

The best question he asked me by far was...





The conversation ended thereafter.

Then there was this morning. A 54 year old man (who may or may not be gay/married) offered to buy me lunch. When I said I couldn't because I have a project to do *coughnothingtodocough*, he started asking me questions about myself. One was whether I've done anything with a guy. When I said that I had, he seemed rather turned off.

"I don't think I want to take you to lunch anymore... you seemed so innocent."

When I asked him what he meant by that he wouldn't go into it anymore but kept talking about my apparent lack of innocence.

He then made the mistake of asking me what I thought of him.

What I learned from our exchange is that people don't like it when you tell them they sound like a pedophile. If that man ever had any questions about his sexuality, the hissyfit he threw after that comment confirmed it for me.

Good times.


P.S. New way to instantly turn a guy offer (inspired by a profile). Say you're into wearing diapers and soiling yourself!


Sunday, December 03, 2006

Just Call Me Rambley McGillicutty

First, I would like to extend my apologies to all of my lovely blogger buddies who consistently leave me comments that I don't return. I'm very busy right now and don't have time for netiquette. I just want you to know that I greatly appreciate your kind words, funny comments, and most importantly your insults and I promise to return the favor some day when I'm not librarianing my ass off (See: Mid-December thru January).

Second, under Things That Make You Go Ew my new least favorite word for a part of the female anatomy is Beef Drapes.

Third, I would like to apologize to those who were eating when you read Second because I didn't give you proper warning.

Fourth, I am giving up this numbering system because it's annoying me as much as it is annoying you and it'll be even less cute by time I reach One Hundred And Fourty First.

So I saw the movie Happy Feet with my friend PizzaFace and I must say that I was loving every minute of it until the very end. I won't spoil the movie for you but I will advise that as soon as you see real people appear in the film - walk out of the theater. It's all downhill from there but the movie is so good up until that point that it is still definitely worth a peek. I almost stormed the box office for a refund for the last half hour of the film, but sometimes they stick people who are literally mentally retarded behind the counter and I don't want to be out matched in that battle of wits.

And since I'm going out with girls when I should be going out with a big hunk of man meat on a Friday night, I will discuss the boyfront. It has come to my attention that the quote unquote loves of my life are all turning out to be basketcases. It seems like everyone I like has more baggage than a hotel bellhop. They're either too hung up on past relationships or recovering alcoholics or practicing Catholics... Republicans all people that would be disasterous for me to get involved with. I would never be able to settle down and adopt puppies with a man like that!

All of these gay freaks of nature I surround myself with, also make me wonder how I come off to other menfolk. Perhaps there's something about me that sends the stable ones screaming. I think I'm pretty amazing but I'm also pretty single which speaks to the contrary. Hmmm...

In order to rectify this problem my friend (one of the people who has too much baggage) has suggested I try speed dating with him. I'm definitely entertaining the option because I feel like, if nothing else, I'll get some cheap laughs out of it. I looked at the website and there is literally one guy with a weird bulging forehead that looks like something is trying to hatch out of his skull. SO HOTT!

It'll also be fun to think up instant turn offs in case there's a really skeezy guy that is putting the moves on me. The best I can come up with is:

"Want to see my colostomy bag?"

Are there any others I should consider?