If Your Date Shows Up Wearing A Shirt Covered In One Of These...

If Your Date Shows Up Wearing A Shirt Covered In One Of These...

Saturday, January 29, 2011

High. My Name Is...

He was my dad, the one guy in my life that had never let me down…so there’s no way he'd do anything to lead me astray…which is the only reason I agreed to the blind date/set up that he was absolutely giddy about.  I was reluctant to say the least but decided to put my hesitation aside, do as my therapist instructed and simply “go with it."
I asked my dad to give me the credentials of Mr. Perfect and he was happy to oblige. He had already assembled his...

Top 5 Reasons To Date Brother E.C.

1) Spiritual. Current E.Q.P. in his family ward. (Yawn)
2) Educated. Applying to Medical School. (Impressive)
3) Funny. Laughed at all my dad’s jokes. (Kiss-ass)
4) Handsome. Stake’s most eligible bachelor. (Boring)
5) Good Family. His mom wasn’t bi-polar. (Vital)

Mr. Future-Favorite-Son-In-Law showed up --with flowers no less-- so far so good. I invited him in where we sat down and started the getting-to-know-you process. He was all the things my dad had ranted and raved about…yet so much more. There was no awkwardness or uncomfortable silence, though he kept saying over and over and over again how nervous he was. Despite his eyes being a little crimson colored and appearing a little fidgety, the entire evening felt seamless. He was quick to laugh at just about everything I said, which I didn’t find to be abnormal…I may or may not be the funniest person I know. As we headed out the door he mentioned that he was a little hungry. So in spite of the fact that we were going to dinner, I offered him something to eat and the next thing I knew he was sitting at my kitchen table looking nothing short of famished. I went to my cupboards and pulled out a box of granola bars. He downed them all in 9.5 seconds flat. I got him some chips and salsa. He diminished them. Gallon of ice-cream. Depleted. Homemade chocolate chip cookies. Devoured. At this point I was fairly astounded that I had finally met a guy who could go head-to-head with my brother’s in an eating contest.

At long last his appetite appeared to be satisfied which meant that hopefully, mine was about to be.  He opened my car door and as I climbed in there was an odor that filled my nostrils; one that I knew was familiar but couldn’t quite put my finger on it. A mixture between the stench of a skunk and a pungent, burning herb garden. And then I saw it, a spectacle that made my eyes almost bug out of my head. There on the floor mat next to my feet sat a Ziploc baggie filled with a brilliant hue of emerald green leaves. Something that I believe Snoop Dogg, Willie Nelson or Paris Hilton would refer to as: Pot. Weed. Marijuana. Dope. Grass. Mary Jane. Ganja. T.H.C. Cannabis. Skunk. Hash.

If your date shows up high…UNDATABLE!

Thursday, January 20, 2011

There's No Place Like Home...

I was on an errand for work when I walked into this particular pharmacy and instantaneously noticed an ultra cute guy out of my peripheral vision. I grabbed the items I needed and decided to pick up a Diet Coke while I was there…mostly because I consider D.C. to be the Nectar of the God’s and I felt like I needed a sense of rejuvenation. I walked over to the cooler section and noticed that Mr. Hottie Pants McGee was there too. He appeared to be a little dirty but I figured that was because he was a blue-collar worker...not that I was judging him for it, I leave the judgemental part to Jesus. And the Mormon's.

Before I had a chance to whip out my charming, charismatic,
Ge-isim's he walked over to me and started what ended up being a pretty amusing conversation that concluded with him asking for my phone number. I was reluctant to give it to him for a couple of reasons…1) I had just gotten out of a serious relationship and the thought of dating again made me wanna vomit. Literally. 2) Three words: My. Dating. History. (Please see previous posts.) But alas, I handed over my business card and with the look of sheer elation, said he’d be in touch.

Later that evening my phone rang (and when I say 'rang' I of course mean vibrated) the caller ID showed that it was a local number so I answered figuring it was something to do with work. False…it was Mr. Walgreen’s himself asking me on a date. I once again fought my inner instinct and reluctantly agreed. We settled on a day and time but after hanging up I suddenly remembered that I already had plans for the night in question. I quickly called him back but the dial tone merely rang. And rang. And rang some more. Just as I was about to hang up I heard a female’s voice say “Hello?” I was taken aback but proceeded to ask for Mr. D.B. when I was met with “I’m not sure who you’re looking for, but you are aware that this is a payphone, right?” Without any ado there were a few things that started running through my head. A) The 80’s called and they’d like their form of communication back. B) Payphones still exist?! C) Let me reiterate, payphones still exist?!

Due to the fact that I was unable to reach Sir Sketchy VonPayPhone I went ahead and changed my previous plans with the guy that happened to be from the twenty-first century and did have a cell phone, so that way I didn’t have to stand up Date #2. He arrived promptly at 6:45, as planned. When I answered the door he quickly asked if he could use the restroom. Twenty-five minutes later he exited and announced he was ready to go. I found this strangely uncomfortable and as we headed out the door I glanced into the bathroom and saw several of my crisp, white washcloths on the ground and they were covered with what I could only assume was dirt. I decided at that point that ignorance was bliss and opted not to confront the situation.

He had arranged a picnic at the park which I thought was adorable. When we finished eating the PB&J’s he had packed he asked if I’d like to take a sunset stroll. I consented and we started the whole ‘get-to-know-you’ questions that are pertinent for any first date. I asked him where he lived and he diffidently pointed to the parking lot where his truck sat. I was perplexed by this vague motion so I inquired further of him. He then enlightened me that he was "currently in-between homes"and that he did indeed reside in the bed of his truck, under his pristine camper shell.

Fast forward 23.7 minutes...he had finally dropped me off and I found myself breathing a sigh of relief as I shut the front door behind me. I then remembered the whole '25-minutes-in-the-bathroom scenerio'. I discovered, much to my chagrin, that Homeboy McLivesInATruck had felt the urgency to be somewhat presentable for our date...which led him to take a sponge bath, with my hand towels!

If your date is homeless…UNDATABLE!

Saturday, January 15, 2011

You're Late! You're Late! For A Very Important Date!

If your date is 2.5 hours late picking you up...


If that same date shows up to your office the next day with these in hand...

Thanks B! You're forgiven! :)

Friday, January 14, 2011

Of Sushi & Men...

I may not know how to pick men…but food, now that I know. So when he invited me out to dinner and insisted that I pick the location, you better believe that I singled out a local all-you-can-eat sushi restaurant that could best be described with the adjective “orgasmic’. I could hear the hesitation in his voice as I made the suggestion but didn’t think much else about it after he was quick to reassure me that he did indeed like sushi…although had only recently been introduced to this delectable, borderline-still-living, delicious, mouth-watering, array of tasty goodness!

He picked me up at a quarter past seven, so despite the fact that he was 15 minutes late and apparently running on P.S.T. (Polynesian Standard Time) I opted to remain optimistic about the date’s outcome. Mostly because he was H-O-T! I’m talking Brad Pitt circa 'Legends of the Fall', APEX Alarm Summer Salesman…hot.

Dinner went well. Ordinarily I would’ve allowed him to do all of the ordering, just so that he could feel like “The Man!” in the relationship, but in this case because Mr. Picky McEatsBlandFood didn’t have a lot of experience in ordering sushi I went ahead and took the lead by instructing our waiter which rolls I thought would be most apt to getting him hooked…no pun intended. Despite being virtually a ‘sushi virgin’ he was a fairly good sport about sampling everything our waiter brought out and the playful banter between us was fun and flirty, which was clearly an added bonus. The check came and he paid which made it palpable that this date far exceeded any other date I had been on in a long while. As we headed for the exit my date suddenly excused himself muttering something about having to use the restroom. I patiently awaited his return, schmoozing with the manager to bide my time.

He looked a little pale as we walked to his truck, but I just chalked it up to him not being from Polynesian descent.

We were almost to the movie theater when my date turned to me with an expression that I couldn’t quite articulate. Was it one of fear? Anxiety? Panic? Horror? “This isn’t going to be good!” he exclaimed. And then he let out what was best described by Phillip Seymour Hoffman’s character in the movie ‘Along Came Polly’ when he used the epic word…

Sharted; (shärt) Vulgar Slang
intr.v. shart·ed, shart·ing, sharts
To try and expel intestinal gas, although sh!+ comes out instead.

If your date craps his pants…UNDATABLE