At least I amuse myself

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep and over-exertion I’ve been putting myself through, but I am not ashamed to admit that I am giggling myself stupid over this exchange of messages.

It’s been quite a while since I’ve gotten an online dating message that has lent itself to any sort of amusement, but I instantly knew where I was going to go with this one.

The guy started off with a question based on my user name, perhaps showing off his ability to use google translate.

So what kind of pragmatic dreams?

Oh, I have a lot of those. But the first that came to mind…

I glanced at your screenname and at first thought it said trilobite, and had flashbacks to college geology class.

Okay so here’s an example. I’ve always wanted to have a midget for a best friend and drinking buddy, but I have come to accept that this is probably not going to happen. It’s probably because they don’t like being called Stubby McMidgetpants, but I just can’t help myself. I have a back up plan though. One day I hope to find a simple minded person that I can win over with Jersey Shore insider gossip and an endless supply of judgement-addling moonshine, and eventually convince to undergo a leg-shortening surgery. Then BOOM, I have my midget best bud.

If that’s not a pragmatic way to fulfill a dream, I don’t know what on Earth would be.

I’ve spent way too much time tonight googling how to make moonshine. Feds, I’m really not planning on operating my own still. Way too much work for far too crappy booze.

Well I am speachless…

Well now, I just may have found myself a candidate.

Hey, did you hear that the JWOWW actually came from a family of lobster fishers? She secretly carries on the family business, using “tanning” as an excuse for the time spent checking traps.

My knowledge of Jersey Shore is based entirely off of clips they showed on the new Beavis and Butthead episodes. You know it’s bad when cartoon delinquents look smart in comparison.

Excuse me… I am lost in translation here…sorry my English must be too limited…

Better and better. Anyone know a good back alley amputater?

You sound like a person who could use some Tennessee white whiskey in his life.

Apparently all it takes is sugar, yeast, water, and equipment that may or may not explode in your house. Why buy $20 bottles of vodka when all the excitement of homemade hooch can be yours for much less?

yes, that i could! ;-)

Simple? Check. Likes dodgy booze? Check. One more question to ask.

Have you ever felt like short man trapped in a tall man’s body?

So close! Dare I hope?


Because I’m immature and I have no shame

So I’ve had some gas build up for the past few days. I can tell my stomach is bloated, it’s uncomfortable, but there’s not much to be done about it. Right as I was leaving work, tiny, itty bitty, little wee farts started occurring. Nothing concerning, nothing too smelly.

But when I was on the metro, holding onto one of the center poles, I felt one escape. It hissed out silently for about 10 seconds straight. And it was hot. Serious temperature on that one. I kept a poker face on, taking comfort that I was surrounded by people, none of whom could be certain who was responsible.

But holy hell was it bad. It built up gradually too, not a sudden shock, this one. I caught a few people looking around, their expressions growing increasingly appalled. It was a fetid combination of rotten egg and burning rubber.

It took a lot of will power not to giggle. I mean, it was obscene. I kind of felt bad for the people around me, but I could tell this was only the beginning. They just had to deal with the one, I’m going to be simmering in them all night!

At least it’ll get rid of the bloat.

I do have *some* standards, after all!

My online dating profile seems to be popular with a certain demographic: married men who are over 40 and looking for an affair. I haven’t posted any of these conversations, because individually they aren’t all that entertaining. Mostly I get a long winded message from a man who gets his panties in a twist when I respond that I don’t condone cheating and am Not Interested.

Of course, there’s also the point that I’m slightly ageist in my dating and can’t wrap my head around going out with someone who is closer to my parents’ age than mine.

I think I know why I get a lot of those messages now as opposed to a couple of years ago.

I’m in an open relationship, a fact that I highlight in my profile. I’m not going to delve into the specifics of that here, but suffice it to say that I’m in a committed, long term relationship that allows for dating others, though we have set some boundaries as far as physical interactions go, primarily for health reasons. Life isn’t Pokemon, after all.

Please, please don't try to catch them all!

I think the thought process of the cheating scumbag who encounters my profile is that because of my relationship status, I’m sympathetic to the non-monogamous urge.  However, the reality is that I’m sympathetic to the urge, not the deceit.  Non-monogamy is perfectly reasonable, so long as both parties are aware and accepting of it.  No matter how pretty of a face some of these guys want to put on it, they are cheating scum.  Deceit has no place in a relationship.

There are a number of warning signs that the person you are communicating with is a Cheating Piece of Shit, to borrow a label from the wise Dan Savage.

– No photo, or a photo that obscures his face
– Status is married versus “available.”  The CPOS will always opt for that, because if his spouse discovers their online presence, they can always claim that they were just looking for “friends,” while pretending that honesty about their marital status means that they aren’t lying to anyone.
– Convoluted, flowery ways of explaining that they want to have an affair, without actually saying it.  Real world examples:

For a number of reasons I am seeking a good friend outside of my marriage.

I am looking for a discreet friend.

– They always make sure to mention their kids and how much they love them, upping their “decent guy” cred.
– In spite of the four points above, they make sure to point out how physically attractive they find you.

Taken as a whole, one can only assume their status as a CPOS.  Still, when I respond with something along the lines of:

Don’t be cute.  It’s not a “discreet friendship.”  It’s cheating.


I’m not the slightest bit interested in anyone’s justifications for cheating.  Your profile gives off a distinctive “eau de cheating scumbag,” which can’t be hidden by pretty words and tap dancing around the subject.

The CPOS becomes defensive and angry, whining about how I don’t know them and how dare I be so judgmental.

You don't know me!

Keep your justifications, excuses, and equivocations to yourself, and when I call you out, it’s unreasonable to get offended.  The people who are legitimately polyamorous or in open relationships tend to be up front about it, mention their partner if they have one, and will often link their profiles.  Being secretive and hiding your picture is not mysterious and sexy, it’s skeevy.

Shit or get off the pot, boys.  This isn’t Ashley Madison, after all.


I hate automated customer service lines, though to be fair, I can’t think of anyone who doesn’t.  For the longest time I thought that Cox cable’s was the absolute worst, as it relied on voice recognition that never fucking worked.  However, they’ve gone back to the button-pushing system and now the honor of Most Rage-Inducing Phone system goes to Toyota Financial.

I went to their website to log in and make my car payment, but must have misremembered which username/password combo I’d set up, so my account got locked.  Well, to unlock the account, you have to have your account number, which I don’t have.  It’s on the bills, but I shred those.  I probably have some paperwork at home, but I’d have to dig for it, and let’s face it, there’s no way I’m going to remember to do that 8 hours from now.  The payment needs to be made today before 6pm in order to be on time.  So I called the 800 number to find out if I could get technical help in resetting my password.

Calling the number and pressing 1 for account holder prompts a 2 minute fucking commercial for the new Camey.   Then when I finally got into the system, it recited payoff amounts, last payment, next payment, and every other fucking detail about the account before going through any options.  So I press the number for paying over the phone, and of course there’s a fee.  Thinking maybe a rep would be able to do something, I hit 0 and was connected to a very unhelpful person.  No, there’s no support staff that can reset a password.  No, I can’t give you your account number, but I can mail it.  No, I can’t waive the convenience fee.  It’s $5 through the automated system, and $10 if I take your payment info.  Okay, fine, put me back to the automated system.

Where I have to sit through the same bullshit commercial again.  Only this time when I enter the last 4 of my social, it doesn’t recognize me and says it’s transferring me to a rep.

I hang up, and dial again.

Fucking commercial.  Die Camry, die!  I hate the Camry.  If I saw a Camry right now, I’d kick it.

Get through to the system, listen to it recite the amounts, my medical history, and the weather for 5 major cities.  It takes two minutes for the damn system to explain how the automated payment works before giving me the options to enter my information.  I paused very slightly in pushing the buttons for my checking acct number, and it registered the first section as a first failed attempt, then the button I pushed next as my second failed attempt.  “Please hold, you are being transferred…”

Hang the fuck up.

Dial again.


 I vow to never, ever purchase a Camry.  Or maybe any other Toyota vehicle.  I consider refinancing my loan just so I don’t have to deal with this system ever again.

After I hear a repeat of my account information, the latest celebrity gossip, detailed instructions on how to push buttons to make money come out of my checking account, and a reading of my blood pressure,* I finally, finally, get my payment processed.

And this is why I had a brownie as a morning snack.  Now, excuse me while I figure out a way to Irish up my coffee.  Someone in this office must have a stash.

*Through the fucking roof.


It has been a very slow few weeks on the online dating front. Partly this is because of my own busy-ness, with the usual school/family/work cop outs, but I’ve received far fewer dumb messages than normal. Did I finally tweak my profile as to weed them out? I’d have to publish the magic formula, if so, but for my purposes I’d be sad. Those clueless douchewits amuse me, darn it.

But soft, what dim, sputtering light from yonder smoke-clouded window breaks? It is a man-boy, trying to compose a thrilling missive, and failing.

The man-boy sends:


I blocked the winking function on this site, but by golly he’s determined to wink at me.  The only appropriate response to that was the “flipping a table in rage” emoticon.

(╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻

Finally, some words!

Wow that looks pretty cool….but i have no idea what it is! lol. care to explain?

Actually, I think preferred the emoticons.  Let me express this with the official Look of Disapproval.


He’s not giving up yet, this one.

do you speaka any englisha? haha ;-)

Lol I dunno!


Apparently that emoticon is pretty hot in bro-speak, because the interest it spawned was immediate.

beer pong tournament at my boys house… you down? hit me up on chat

And a couple of minutes later

turn your IM on….miss 70% match :-)

I am now seriously doubting this matching algorithm.  And not just from his messages, I finally looked at his profile after this.  Bro-tastic.  *Shudder*


Again, I wonder if some of these guys have used their approaches on multiple targets, and if they have ever worked.  Sure, showing up at a random dude’s house for beer pong sounds like a great idea – when you’re in college and already drunk.  At this point, it would just be sad.

i want to hear about your warrior dash thing…write me a normal email sometime lol

I had decided, upon sending my first response, that I was just going to respond with emoticons and see how long he would keep going.  At this point I was trying to find a way to make a turd (preferably steaming) out of text, but didn’t come up with much.  Adolescents on the internet, you have failed me.

(\/) (;,,;)(\/)

Need new emoticon?  Why not Zoidberg?

that’s it i give up on you

And thus ends the only exchange in the past few weeks that has been worth posting.


Hot or Not

Is the Hot or Not website still a thing?

Two of my online profile pictures would probably be resoundingly classified as “Not,” were I to post them for rating. I chose them, though, because they showcase my interests and personality. In one of the photos I am covered in mud, having just completed my first Warrior Dash. In another, I am pictured as a zombie tearing gleefully into a chunk of flesh (otherwise known as smoked salmon). But someone seems befuddled by my choice:

Interesting pick for photos. You are obviously an attractive woman. Why did you pick the other photos?

No, these photos are not meant to be alluring, at least not physically. But apparently because I’m a chick, I’m supposed to put up glamour shots to lure in the men. At least according to this guy.

I suppose they tell a sort of story.

I will greet you, all unassuming like. Then I will fight you, on a muddy battleground, and emerge victorious. Finally, I feast.

On brains?

Well, a lady can’t give away *all* her secrets.

Actually, that sounds like a damn fine date to me!

That’s intriguing :) Sort of a romantic 28 days later!

You mean to tell me that 28 Days Later wasn’t supposed to be romantic? Well, huh.

Are you perchance a praying mantis?

I only ask because of the classification of head-chomping as romantic.

Seriously, male mantises must dig the cannibalism thing, otherwise why would they willingly sign up for such a fate?  If this guy is a mantis, I’d ask him and solve that mystery, except he never responded back.  Alas.

Hey Baby. My head's delicious. Whatta you say we go back to your place so you can have a taste?

I find your tone patronizing

Using my last post as a segue, when I respond on dating sites with absurdity that might be interpreted as being borderline belligerent, I’m simply weeding out the lame-os.  I tend to follow a few tactics.

Is the message intelligent, amusing, and/or intriguing?  I will respond in kind (I hope).

Is the message boring or bland, and doesn’t give me much to work with?  I up the silly ante and try to see if there is something fun lurking under the surface.

Is the message straight-up dumbfuckery?  Time to put on my smartass pants!  I’ll probably alienate them, which is nothing to cry over, but there is the odd chance that I might uncover a gem in the rough.

Of course there’s a whole range within those three categories, but you get the gist.

This message bordered on dumbfuckery, though he wins points for flattery.

You should add me to your ‘to-do list.’
And clear plenty of time for all the casual-to-high-risk activities we can explore.

tl;dr, you’re so cool.

Often I’ll just take a key word from a message and run with it.

I have added you to my roster of badger piercers. They just look so classy with little diamond earings. You will be getting a kit in the mail, but I should earn you that we only send alcohol wipes for the badgers. you will have to provide your own first aid kit should you encounter a badger who is not ammenible to body modification.

If you would like a higher risk activity, I could put you on the tiger pedicure crew.

So pretty!

Maybe I’m being over sensitive, but I find this guy’s response slightly condescending.

My what an active imagination.
I changed badger to beaver so it made for a more enticing read. ;)

Hope I could be so lucky to enjoy your thoughts a bit deeper?!

I mean, that’s the kind of wide-eyed shit you say to a four year old when they babble on about how they’re going to be a ballerina fairy astronaut when they grow up, and eat birthday cake for breakfast every day on the planet of the fluffy unicorn bunnies.  My what an active imagination.  

You will be my bestest friend!

But I got distracted, probably by a bottle of wine, or maybe a shiny object, and I never did reply back.  This breaks my general rule about having the last word!

Let’s say this exchange was two and a half months ago, and I only found it when cleaning my inbox.  Is it too late to answer now?