Thursday, March 31, 2011

9 Reasons You Didn't Get a Third Date (To the Last Guy Who Didn't Get a Third Date)

1) By Date Two, There Were Already Communication Problems

On the first date, you showed up casually dressed in a T-shirt, jeans, and a hat. You wore a little cameo of the Buddha around your neck, because you're a Buddhist. Fair play.

On the second date, you showed up dressed to the nines in a tweed jacket with elbow patches (wait a minute, who wears those?), slacks, and a button-down shirt. At least you didn't wear a tie.

I, on the other hand, felt out of place, having stayed with the casual tone of the first date. You could have advised me of the change in the dress code.

2) You're a Fidgety Little Rascal, Aren't You?

When you took my hand on the walk to the restaurant, you didn't just sedately hold it like an ordinary person. You rubbed my palm incessantly with the tip of your thumb. When I removed my hand from yours, you put your arm around my shoulders and proceeded to rub my upper left arm rhythmically. Stop it. Just, stop.

3) You Treated Me Like I Was Stupid

I may not be the best cook, but I know that cheese fondue is supposed to have a little fire under it, and that that fire is supposed to keep the cheese all warm and drippy. And I can surmise that, when the fire goes out, the cheese goes all cold and lumpy. I have two eyes, and they work. Don't wave me off and try to tell me everything's fine when I can see for myself the fondue fire is out.

4) For that Matter, You Took Me Out for Cheese Fondue

Cheese fondue is not a date food, unless that date is an obligatory one with a partner you've grown to despise, and you're looking for any excuse to avoid sex later.

Because it makes you feel as if your stomach's dropped into your pelvis, that's why. -- jay.tong

5) You Don't Drink, But I Do

Not that there's anything wrong with not drinking. To be fair, you'll probably live a longer, healthier life. But I don't believe your repeated assurances that you don't care if I drink. That might be easy to say now, but it won't be so easy when I call you up after midnight to come and pull me out of the shrubbery I've fallen into, and now can't escape from.

6) You Said, “I Feel as if Destiny Brought Us Together.”

Dude. You haven't even told me your last name, and already you're talking about destiny? Don't be a creep.

7) Your Joke About This Being the Last Time You Pay for Dinner Wasn't Really that Funny

Alright, it was funny the first time. Kinda. I laughed out of politeness, really. When you dragged it out for ten minutes and then tried to get the waiter involved, it lost its charm. Somehow.

8) You Asked to Come Home With Me

“I don't want to have sex with you,” you said. “I just want to hold you in my arms all night.”

Really? Really? What are we, sixteen? It might be time to hammer out a new line, buddy. Just sayin'.

9) I Can't Find Even One Reason to Go Out With You Again, Really

But, as you can see, I can find lots of reasons not to.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

5 Excuses for Sleeping Late

1) The goldang cat crawls up onto my pillow in the night and curls up either next to, or directly on top of, my face. I'd like to think he really, really loves me, but I know the truth. My face is just another warm spot, especially when he gets right in front of my mouth so I can breathe on him. But, I swear, he only does it when he can tell I'm just about to fall asleep. Maybe it's revenge for all the times I've plopped down clumsily on the sofa and woken him up. Or maybe it's revenge for all the times I've smacked him with my elbow because he's always sitting right there when I turn around. Maybe it's revenge for the time he ran between my feet while I was walking and I accidentally kicked him. He glared at me so hard when I did that.

"You b*tch."

2) I stayed up late reading something. Usually it's somebody's blog. When I was a kid we had this thing called “paper,” and we used it to print these things called “books.” You hardly see them anymore, but I hear they're still around.

3) I had a drink. I don't even have to get drunk. One or two drinks, too close to bedtime, keeps me awake. In any case, I rarely go to the bar intending to get drunk. I'm always just going for one drink, and then I have that drink, and then it decides to throw a party and calls all its friends. I guess I should expect that sort of thing. It's a bar, after all. What do I think is going to happen?

4) I'm having a really good dream, and I don't want to wake up. A couple of nights ago I dreamed that I'd married the love of my life and we'd moved into a massive chalet – I mean, this place was so big you could get lost in it. In fact, in the dream, I did get lost in it. Much of this amazing, fantastic, wonderful dream that I didn't want to wake up from consisted of myself wandering around this massive chalet, gaping and saying things like, “Oooh, another kitchen!” or, “Wow, a fourth sauna!” My whole family moved in with us, and some of my neighbors, too. Paula Deen was there, making So Good You're a Diabetic Now Cheesecake in kitchen number three. We opened a honey farm, and we farmed the best dang honey in the world.

5) I stayed up late writing something. It was probably something much longer than this post.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

I really love seaquariums, even though I'm really scared of fish.

I couldn't tell you why I'm scared of fish. It's not the craziest thing I've ever been afraid of, but it's close. I do have a distant childhood memory of being chucked into a river with floaties on, and there being a school of fish. They were goldfish. I hear some people get tired of having them, and throw them into the river. Some species are apparently hardy enough to keep on keeping on in the cold mountain water.

I was impossibly small and the water was impossibly deep. The tiny fish were many. They clustered around my legs and feet, biting me. Of course it didn't hurt, because they didn't have teeth, just those weird little fish lips, but I didn't like it one bit. To this day I shudder at the memory of those fish nibbling on my legs with their weird little fish lips.

The face of terror. -- TheGiantVermin

I really love seaquariums precisely because I'm afraid of fish. It's like riding a roller coaster. I get to be scared when I know I'm safe. I get to stand there watching them swim, sharks and sting rays and eels and everything, and know that they can't get me.

Sometimes I taunt them. I stick my fingers in my ears and poke my tongue out. Sometimes I even dance around. “What are ya gonna do, fish? What are ya gonna do? I'm out here, and you're in there! Come out here and get me! No, you can't! You don't have lungs!” 

I really wanna get a goldfish, in a bowl, so I can watch it swim around and around, powerless to do more than glare.

Of course, I can never, ever, ever go into the water. The fish on the outside have my number.

One day, he'll evolve, and then I'll be done for. -- Lerdsuwa